Author Archives: Lenora Good

A Double Dose of Goodness!!

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Intro:

Wednesday last, 11 November, wasn’t just hump day, it was Mountain Day. I was lifted to the highest peak and am still cruisin’ on down!

First off, I put together a collection of poetry and thought it was pretty good. I sent it to a professional editor, Sharmagne Leland-St. John (editor Quill and Parchment, an online poetry magazine), who went through it, marked it up, and sent it back. She agreed it was good, and she made it better. Way better. (If you’re going to pay for advice, you maybe oughta use it;-) At her suggestion, I then sent it to her publisher in India. They took it, and on Wednesday, I signed the contract, and approved the final proofs. I mean, how cool is that? Purely happenstance, but the cover is a shot of dandelions in puff mode. Because I’ve always been somewhat of a contrarian, dandelions are my favorite flower, and the puffs most of all (can you tell I’m not a gardener?). Besides, I can actually grow dandelions!

From the Information/Sell Sheet: “Marking the Hours, A Collection of Poems contains historical poetry of the Oregon Country, poetry of space flight, fantasy, and the title poem, Marking the Hours, is an essay in poetic form of the last hours of her uncle’s life. This is a book of loss, of hope, of grief, of love, of the beauty of being human.” 

Not sure when Marking the Hours will be available, but when it is, I’ll be sure to let all of you know. And post it in My Books.

And then, yes! there’s more! I told you it was a double double dose of goodness, didn’t I?

Jim Bumgarner, one of three Tarweed poets (Jim Thielman and I are Tarweed Poets—there are two others, but they did not contribute poetry to the book) called to tell me that our book is now live on Amazon. By the way, Jim B. took the photo and designed the cover. Isn’t it stunning? Wait till you read the poems inside!

From the Information Sheet: “Reflections: Life, the River, and Beyond. Jim Bumgarner gave us Reflections and Observations made through his life. Lenora Rain-Lee Good wrote River Songs about living on the Columbia River. Jim Thielman gave us poems from Beyond the Bridge. All the Tarweed Poets live close to water, if not the Columbia River, the Yakima, the Snake, or the Walla Walla. Water is life, and it plays a large part in our poetry.” Be sure to check out the My Books page above.

Entertainment:

I finished Frida. Netflix is marvelous, it knew where I stopped, and had it all waiting to resume. It is said to be the true story of Frida Kahlo (Salma Hayek) and her husband Diego Rivera (Alfred Molina). From what I’ve read of them, it probably is. They had quite the volatile marriage, but also passionate and caring love. I do wish they had spent more time on her and her paintings than on them and their drinking and sexploits. (This is not family entertainment.) The acting, photography, well, everything in the movie was high-shelf good.  

Books: 

I’ve actually read books, yes plural, this past week. I’m still working on Peter Stzrok’s book. But I really needed a break from politics, and moved on to something more uplifting—murder, mayhem, and one of the most beautiful novels I’ve read since Wizard of the Pigeons by Megan Linkholm—Memories in the Drift by Melissa Payne.  Reviews are posted at: Rainy Day Reads.

Outro:

PLEASE, WEAR YOUR FREAKING MASK! Keep those around you safe and keep YOU safe. I don’t have so many friends I can afford to lose any, especially when it could be prevented by wearing a mask. You are, each and every one, important to me. Yes, because the vaccine is coming, the vaccine is coming, the end is in sight — but it’s still a long, long way down the road. If you’re on a hill, you might be able to see the light, but don’t bank on it. Yet.

Want to know the best mask to wear? Easy Peasey — the K95, the blue surgical masks doctors wear (you know those guys aren’t going to cut their oxygen intake one wee whit!), a mask with at least 2 layers of different and closely woven cloth, preferably three. It needs to fit snuggly over your mouth AND YOUR NOSE.  If your nose isn’t covered, you’re not dressed. A mask will help keep you healthy, your neighbor healthy, and as an added bonus this winter, it will also keep your nose warm.

If masks give you ‘panic attacks’ I suggest two things—talk to your dr. about getting some anti-anxiety medications, and learn some meditation. Believe me, the claustrophobic anxiety of wearing a mask is nothing compared to the claustrophobic anxiety of wearing a coffin!

Here is the CNN story, Choosing the best mask to protect you and others.

If you enjoy this blog, please share with friends.

If you have a comment, please leave one. I read and reply to all of them.

Some Good News, Some Sad News

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PSA: THANK YOU for voting. I don’t care for whom you voted, only that you did. Remember, if you didn’t vote, you are not entitled to voice an opinion on anything that happens until the next election at which time you will vote. Won’t you?

Intro:

First the Sad news—Alex Trebek died yesterday (8 Nov 20). My very first Sister of Choice (SOC) Val, and I used to watch Jeopardy! together and win and lose fortunes every time. Of course, we were in the safety of her living room or mine. And the money was never collected – or paid. Not only did we learn a lot of interesting facts; we had fun, and it was all due to Alex Trebek. Several years ago, I took a 5-day seminar taught by a woman who had worked as a writer on Jeopardy! and she had only wonderful things to say about him. He was friendly, professional, smart, nice, caring — pick your positive descriptor, and I’m sure it would fit. The world was a brighter place, a kinder place, a more fun place because Alex Trebek was here for eighty years. He will be missed. As Uncle George (Takei) said on his Twitter account, “The heavens have all the answers now.”

Now for the Good news. Really — I put together a collection of poetry and had it edited by a professional editor, who made some very good suggestions both in content and order of presentation. She then suggested a publisher, who had done her last book, so I sent the updated ms off to the publisher. They acknowledged receipt immediately, and I settled in to wait for their decision, guessing sometime after the new year.

While at the computer Saturday morning, at 8.20, I received an email from the publisher, with my proof copies attached!!! While sitting and trying to catch my breath, just seconds later, I was staring, pretty much unseeing, at the tv in my office, just as NBC called Pennsylvania, and the election, for Biden.

Now, as most of you know, that is very good news to me. I realize some of you probably feel like I felt four years ago, but I think we’ll find Biden will be a peacemaker, if we all pitch in and help. I survived the previous four years, and I’m more than willing to try to help you survive the coming four if you’d like. That’s what friends do.

Wait. Wait. There’s more! I’m in a poetry group in the Tri-Cities, The Tarweed Poets, and three of us are putting out a book of our poetry. We hope to have it available before Thanksgiving. You’ll be among the very first to know when you can order it, and how.

Was looking for some weather specific photos, and came across these from a few months ago, when it was somewhat warmer. I do enjoy watching the Great Blues and Great Egrets over on the island. This handsome guy is a Great Blue Heron.

Wanna buy a watch?
No? Well, please excuse me while I scratch an itch.

Entertainment:

Sigh, no movies/tv shows beyond news this week. But, I did read a book 😉

Books: 

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark?

I’m still reading Peter Strok’s book, Compromised. I had to put it down for a bit, as it was getting to be too much politics. I did, however buy a copy of The Man She Married: A gripping psychological thriller with a heart-pounding twist, by Alison James. I bought it on Friday and finished it on Friday. By the time you read this, my review will be posted.

A friend put me wise to a new (to me) site, Freebooksy. You can sign up for a newsletter every morning containing a list of free books for several forms of eReaders. You choose your e-reading format when you join. You choose the genres which interest you the most. If you’re a bookworm, check them out. You can also sign up for heavily discounted books.

And remember, if you like a book, please write and post a review. It doesn’t have to be a college-level critical review, just something as to why you liked it. Reviews are virtual hugs for the authors. They mean a lot!  

Outro:

We are now having over 100,000+  Covid19-positive cases per day. It should be a no-brainer; masks help stop the spread. Combined with social distancing, hand-washing, and common sense, we can slow the spread down quickly, and keep it down. This virus is a painful killer, of small children to old farts and fartesses and everyone in between. Young, old, healthy, not so healthy. Please, be a patriot and wear your mask.

Go forth and have a great week. Do good, get into good trouble if you need to, read a new book, better yet, write the book you really want to read. Remember, Santa will be here too soon (as well as the bills), and I hope to have two options for your want list soon. You do want one or both of the books, don’t you?

If you enjoy this blog, please share with friends. 

Auntie Lenora

The Haunted Lady

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a flash fiction of about 940 words

by Lenora Rain-Lee Good

It was a beautiful, crisp October morning, the houses in the village were decorated with ghosts and witches and hand carved Jack O-Lanterns. All but The Manse, reputed by many to be truly haunted, which stood currently vacant of tenants and looked dark and lonely on top of the hill. I had just opened my door to walk to work when the phone rang, “Jan, Marcus here, can you come down to my office tomorrow at three o’clock? Mrs. Gooch died, and she wanted you present when I read the will.”

“Me? Sure, I’ll be there.” Mrs. Gooch died? She’d been around forever, and it never dawned on me she’d die. She was too much an institution in the village. She was, well, she was just too damn ornery to die. But die she did. For the life of me, I couldn’t understand why she wanted me at the reading of her will. We weren’t really friends. I just worked for her off and on as she needed help.

The phone call raised memories of how we met. I smiled at the comparison of those memories to specters and Halloween. I was a kid, with my first paper route. Mrs. Gooch was known to dislike people, especially children. “Too noisy,” she said. “No manners.” The boy who had the route before me said she was a real witch and he rode his bike by her place as fast as he could and just threw the paper – if she wanted it, she could find it. My mom told me to deliver the papers to the front doors of my customers. Mom was right. I got big tips at the end of the year, especially from Mrs. Gooch.

One summer day, she saw me pushing my lawn mower over to one of the neighbors. “Jan,” she called out, “would you be interested in mowing my lawn? I’m very particular about how I want it done.” She was, too. She wanted it mowed first in this direction, then in that direction. And she tipped well at the end of the season.

We always smiled and waved at each other, and she wanted to know all about my classes when I came home on breaks. She seemed genuinely interested, but not overly friendly. While I was away at Veterinary school, she decided she’d had enough of the stairs of The Manse, and bought a new, modern, one-storey ranch. She used The Manse, as she called the old Victorian Painted Lady, as a rental. She had a handyman-chauffeur who did nothing but drive her around. I spent quite a bit of my spare time fixing and painting the old place. Vet school was expensive, and her generous pay and tips certainly helped. It didn’t matter, as no one wanted to stay in it. “Haunted,” they said. “Strange noises. Things go thump in the night.” Hogwash! I thought, but kept my comments to myself, after all, there are only so many animals for a Veterinarian to see in our village.

That old house was well over a hundred years old. I’m sure it had its share of creaks and groans, but ghosts? I think the tenants were city folk who had never lived in an old house and had no idea of the sounds made when it heated and cooled. I looked up at the old house, imposing at the top of the hill, and couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live there. I hoped whoever got the house would keep it, and not tear it down for apartments or condos. Then, again, Mrs. Gooch was enough of a grouch she might come back and haunt it. I smiled at the thought as I walked toward Marcus’ office the next day.

By the time I arrived at the law office of Marcus Whitworth, two others waited—Sally, Mrs. Gooch’s housekeeper and Bill, her chauffeur. They wore expectant smiles and faux tears and were positively giddy with anticipation at their expected new riches. After all, Mrs. Gooch had no known family, only her two servants of several years. They openly questioned my presence, sure that I wanted to rob them of their anticipated inheritance. Marcus cleared his throat, glanced at each of us, and then proceeded with the business at hand. “Mrs. Anabella Theodora Metz Gooch specifically asked the three of you to be present when her will was read. Since you are all here, we’ll get started. Sally, Mrs. Gooch said you are to receive $1,000.00. There would have been more, she said, but she knew you regularly dipped into the change bowl. And Bill, you get $1,000.00. She said that if you hadn’t used the house gas card for your vehicle, there would have been more. My secretary has your checks ready; you may sign for them on the way out. Jan, you inherit the rest of her estate. The home in which she lived at the time of her death, all her belongings, her investments, The Manse – well, we’ll go over it later, in detail. She said you were the only person in the village who treated her as if you liked her, even though she wasn’t likable. You, my friend, are very, very rich.”

Sally and Bill stood, glowered at me, and huffed out of the office; I sat, too stunned to move.

“Oh, one more thing.” A twinkle appeared in Marcus’s eye. “In the attic of The Manse, is an old record player set to a timer. Mrs. Gooch suggests you remove them before you move in—or rent it out. Here’s the key to the padlock on the attic door.”

Happy Belated Halloween, y’all!

Entertainment:

Did you notice this is my Halloween issue? Ya know, it written before Halloween, but not posted before. Still, in this time of Covid19, we can stretch a holiday a bit. Can’t we? So, being surfeited on news (i.e., politics and covid, covid, covid, covid), I turned over to Hallmark Movies and Mysteries the other night, needing a nice cozy murder. Uh, no. What I got were Christmas love stories. They couldn’t wait until Black Friday, let alone Halloween, even. Oh, well. Predictable, and no politics, no covid, no serious angst beyond will the star-crossed lovers realize their mistrake and turn to each other in the last two minutes???  (Spoiler: Yes! Yes, they will.)

Books:

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark?

Have started Compromised by Peter Stzrok. The Introduction was fascinating, as is the first part of the book. He’s a very good writer, at least at the beginning. And so far, I’m learning things I didn’t already know, or having things I suspicioned verified.

Quill and Parchment isn’t a book, but a beautiful online magazine. They have published three of my poems this November. Please feel free to check out mine and read all the others at http://quillandparchment.com/members/memberink.html No politics, no covid, just nice poetry.

Outro:

Masks save lives. That’s proven fact. Remember, the lives you save may be your very own ghosts, goblins, zombies, or vampyres — wear your fracking mask!!! Get a cloth one, it won’t cut down on your oxygen level one whit! Neither will the KN95s. It may actually make breathing in the super cold and or polluted air easier. Wear the same ones that surgeons wear—they certainly aren’t going to wear something to cut down their oxygen. Besides, they’re cute and sexy. The masks. And, well, some surgeons 😉

If you missed the Disney video last week, here it is for an encore performance:

Show your love, wear a mask! (Thanks, Bill for the video! 😉

THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)

If you enjoy this blog, please feel free to share.

Auntie Lenora

Writer’s Block: One Solution–

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Please note: I am not telling you for whom to cast your vote, only begging you to vote. Vote, please. Vote as early as possible, and if you already have voted, celebrate — with ice cream, a movie, tequila, whatever floats your boat. And Thank You.

Intro:

Flashback:

Remember last week’s quilt photo? And I said I might not get it to Bronte before he was lecturing at MIT? Well, heeeere’s cute Bronte and handsome dad Michelangelo, with the quilt. Mom was busy taking the picture 😉

Writer’s Block: One Solution—

I know all you, my gentle readers, don’t write, but several of you do. Not sure many of my readers are still working for a living, but if you are, you may be asked to write for your boss at one time or another. Maybe something in here will help. Or at the very least, give you a chuckle or two.

Do you ever suffer from Writer’s Block? I can think of few things more frustrating, unless it’s looking for the exact word you need and can’t quickly find it! You know it’s there, right on the tip of your tongue, but…. (I lost the word ‘cholesterol’ one time, talking to my doctor. She had ordered some blood work, and I wanted to know if I had to fast for the (long blank stare and I tried to think past a brain fart) test. I looked at her. She looked at me. I went all around it, and finally asked if I had to fast so she could find out if I was eating too much cheese. She smiled and said not to worry, that yes, I’d temporarily lost the word, but I got there, and I was really okay. And to fast.)

I’m fortunate in that I’ve never faced a blank page and wondered what to put on it, but I have faced a major Writer’s Block and thought I’d share my solution. I imagine every writer faces Writer’s Block at one time or another, of one type or another, and every writer has her own way to go over, around, under, or through the block. Here’s mine.

A few years ago, I was just finishing a first draft of a novel and knew I was within a couple of chapters of the end, but I just couldn’t get that ending to come. I fussed. I fretted. I paced. I took a long shower. I tried everything I could think of. I went out to lunch with a gentleman I knew. He is a nice person, but not my type for a long term relationship, so we never really dated, but are still casual friends. But, and that’s a big one here, he did give me one piece of great advice. When he asked with his usual snarkiness how my novel was coming, I told him my problem, that I just wasn’t getting the ending. That I was sure I was within a chapter or two of the ending, but just couldn’t get there. In a very smart asterisk manner, he told me to send my character an email and let her email me back with the solution.

Yeah. Right. Or (short pause) might there possibly be something there?

So, that night, before I turned off the computer and went to bed, I wrote the protagonist a note and sent it to her in care of my email address, turned off the lights and went to bed for a sound sleep. A truly remarkably sound sleep. The next morning, I got up and in going through my emails came to the one I’d sent my character. Now, she obviously didn’t respond. (Not sure I would have wanted that, actually) but suddenly, I saw the ending of the novel, and finished it that day. Or at least the draft.

The next time I saw my friend, I thanked him for his suggestion, and told him it worked. He was somewhat taken aback, and admitted he was being a smart asterisk with his response to me. “I know,” I said, and smiled sweetly, “but it worked, and I thank you.” We no longer see each other unless it’s a chance meeting at the grocery store, so who knows what words of wisdom I’m missing? But that solution to my Writer’s Block worked and I’ve not forgotten. It worked for me. It might work for you.

If you’ve ever experienced Writer’s Block, and found a way to unblock it, I’d love to read about how you did it. Maybe it will help some of the other writerly readers of this blog.

As it turns out, my friend and fellow blogger (Dixie Helps Writers) also wrote about Writer’s Block for her blog that came out a couple days ago. Some more good ideas. As always, you have to take the info that works for you and ignore the rest. What works for her, what works for me, what works for you, are not all the same.

Happy writing!

The book I was trying to finish:

Jibutu: Daughter of the Desert, is available from Amazon, your favorite bookseller, or for a signed copy, contact the author. To read about the book, go to the My Books page above.

Entertainment:

Alas, I’ve spent my spare time either watching the news, or writing. And planning another wee quilt. Well, not totally true, I also attended a virtual poetry reading in NYC on Friday. Not as much fun as being there in person, but nonetheless, Zoom and similar software, does bring the world to our computer room. And I get to do things like a NYC poetry reading I wouldn’t otherwise get to do. There were two poets, Yona Harvey and Taylor Johnson, both young, both good, but the highlight of the show was each had someone signing her poems as she read them! I thought that was a marvelous idea, and something to think about if/when the time comes for live readings at my end of the road.

There’s a wide world of goodness out there, we just have to find and tap into it.

Books:

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

There are new reviews posted — novel, medical, poetry…

Outro: 

When you’re out in public, even outside walking your dog or cat or pet skunk or spousal unit, wear a mask, and wear it over your nose. Please. It’s not to protect YOU, we all know you aren’t scared of a teensy weensy virus, but you may host one on the in-breath and share it unknowingly on the out-breath. Think of your neighbor, your family, that hunka-hunka coming toward you on the sidewalk. Decorate it (the mask, not the hunka-hunka, though that does have possibilities) for Halloween. Put some fun in someone’s life, not a virus. (Can you tell, Auntie Lenora has been too long in lock-down.)

Show your love, wear a mask! (Thanks, Bill for the video! 😉

THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)

If you enjoy this blog, please feel free to share.

Auntie Lenora

Fall has Fell

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PSA: IF YOU HAVEN’T ALREADY DONE SO, VOTE! And no ‘protest votes’—this election is too important. Remember, if you don’t vote, you can’t complain at the outcome!

Intro:

Several years ago, I joined an online dating service. You know the one—where we had to fill out an 8,429 page (give or take a paragraph) personality questionnaire. Well, I found a guy and we had either a 98% or a 99% personality match. We agreed on politics, religion, food, books, what to do in our spare time. The only problem was we were separated by a fair distance and at the beginning of our romance, neither of us were interested in moving. Maybe later. Which of course, never came. 

Anyhow, that’s neither here nor there. On our second date, he asked me what my favorite season was. I had to think on that for a wee bit before I answered. “The one I’m in now.” I realized I didn’t have a favorite season. Oh, I prefer the warmth of summer, but I also like the cold of winter, the new green of spring and the marvelous yellows and reds of fall. After living so many years in the Seattle area, where we had two seasons—wet and wetter—it was nice to live in an area where we actually have four seasons—winter, spring, summer, and fall. I admit, I do tend to grumble when it rains. I live in the desert part of Washington. We get an average of 8 inches of rain a year, spread out over several months. But I’ve gotten spoiled with the constant sunshine, if not warmth.

Sometimes there is a slow change from one to the other. Why, it may even take three or four days. This year, it was literally overnight. One day was a high in the 80s, then the next day the high was twenty degrees cooler. The winds have picked up. They are chill. And the highs aren’t scheduled to go above the 60s for a while, often in the 50s until they work themselves down to the 40s, 30s, and quite probably a spate of 20s (I refuse to acknowledge anything lower!).

The geese, the ones who are strong enough, and not too fat to fly, are heading south. A fair amount of geese and ducks will hang around, especially at the pond down the road where they are fed. They especially love bread, and people bring their kids and old bread and feed the hungry critters, not realizing they are in fact starving them. Yep, they can’t digest the bread, they get no food value out of it, and will starve to death with a full stomach (or whatever they have) if they get enough bread.

Fortunately, even when it gets downright cold (think: three-dog night) the water moves in the river, and the pond (the water is pumped from the river to the pond and back again), and there is enough salad, etc. for them to get some nutrients. I wonder if, in living memory, the Columbia River has ever frozen? Or even in recorded history? I see ice in the slackwater areas, where the current is either nonexistent, or too slow to matter, but I’ve not seen it out in the river proper. When I was a kid I remember reading that Niagra Falls froze on winter! Whoa Doat! That had to be some kind of cold. The sudden silence woke people for miles. 

So, what’s your favorite season? Or do you have one?

I promised a photo of the finished quilt—here it is. It’s a baby quilt, and at the pace I’m getting things done, he’ll be teaching advanced physics at MIT before he gets it. No, not really, I hope to have it mailed before you see this. The picture part is a panel, I didn’t piece it. It’s what is called a ‘whole cloth’ quilt. I added the borders (batik, for those interested) and did the quilting. Hard to see in the picture, but they are sun’s rays from the upper left of the picture, then I quilted in the ditch around the borders. In the ditch means the seam where two fabrics are joined. The quilt is mailed. Or at least scheduled for pickup before this post will be posted. 

His middle name is Bronte. (His parents are quite literary 😉 So this is a Brontesaurus quilt. (should I apologize for that?) Oh, yeah, that’s me, with my naturally windblown hair, holding it.

Entertainment:

Have caught a few more episodes of Banacek. It has held up well and was great fun to watch while working on the quilt.

Books:

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

I finished Rage by Bob Woodward. The review is posted. Am now reading Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. LeGuin.

Outro: 

Auntie Lenora is very worried about the lack of belief in science in her country as a whole, and in the Other Washington in particular. Herd Mentality (I think that’s supposed to be Herd Immunity, but what do I know?) is not a good way, according to the science types I know, and the ones I still have respect for, such as Dr. Fauci, to get through this pandemic. We know, They know, some things really work—simple things, like washing your hands (if you have Alexa, ask her to sing a 20 second song while you do so. Helps the time pass more quickly), wearing a mask, and social distancing. The importance of mask wearing is to not spread it if you have it and are asymptomatic. Contrary to what himself says, it’s not a fun thing to go through, unless you have fourteen doctors and a helicopter at your disposal. It very well may kill you, especially if you have any one of several pre-existing conditions—old age, diabetes, hypertension, auto immune disorder, yadda, yadda, yadda. 

Show your love, wear a freaking mask!

THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)

If you enjoy this blog, please feel free to share.

Auntie Lenora

I Want to Thank…

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You ever utter those words? Write those words? They make me want to jump all over the person who says or writes them, with hob-nail boots! If you really want to thank them, do so. Don’t tell me you want to thank them, just thank them.

“I thank my mother for raising me, my boss for hiring me, my teachers for trying…” 

Can you tell that phrase really knocks Auntie Lenora off her nice soft office chair and into a flash mini rage? Of course, if you want to commit murder and mayhem, well, maybe you shouldn’t do that. Leave it to her, she’s probably a better shot than you. (Expert with the M-16. I was asked to be on the Air National Guard Rifle Team, but they wouldn’t buy my practice ammo. Even way back then, it was pricey!)

We all have words and phrases that affect us adversely for any number of reasons or rationales. Another phrase that sets my teeth on edge is, “Me and…” It was ok for the country song, when she sang about “me and Bobby McGee” because in the song she wasn’t too well educated. But it’s not all right for everyday usage. You wouldn’t say, “Me stood on the bridge today.” Would you? I guess if you would, well, what can I possibly say?

I find that phrase mildly acceptable in dialog in a story, provided someone informs the speaker of the correct usage. If you’re of an age, you remember the old tv show, Leave it to Beaver from 1957-1963. When Wally, the Beav, or any of their young friends used a word incorrectly, Mom was quick to remind them of the correct usage. When my kids were young, they were watching reruns, and Wally used a word incorrectly, without thinking, I corrected him. I was echoed by Mom on the tv. Boy Howdy! Were my kids impressed! I was as smart as a tv mom 😉 !

Then, there’s ‘gifting’—I’m going to gift my friend with yaddah, yaddah, yaddah. And my friend says, “I was gifted with…but I can’t use it, so I got permission and I’m gifting it to…” It may be right proper correct grammar, but it sounds funny. Any Grammar Nazi’s want to weigh in on that one? Or, for that matter, any of the ones I’ve mentioned.

Speaking of Grammar Nazi’s, it’s not that I am one. I’m not. And I’ve gotten more or less to the point where there, their, and they’re used improperly don’t do much more than make me wince. I just figure the person is either uneducated, lazy, or dyslexic. (I’m dyslexic, so I try to pay extra special attention to those kinds of words.) 

I do, however, have friends who are Grammar Nazis. And you know what? I’m thrilled we’re friends because they will often read my stories and correct my mistrakes. I love those folks. I truly do, they do their best to make my writing if not great, at least acceptable. Hugs to you.

Is alright one word or two? I have a friend who insists it one or the other, and I can never remember. I just tense up when I write it and wonder which it is. How I love Wordhippo.com and Dictionary.com. Years ago, I had a terrible time with lay and lie. My dearly beloved affianced used to pounce every time I used the wrong word. I got to where I would say, “I’m going to go get horizontal on the bed.” Problem solved. Then we broke up, and the problem was not only solved, it disappeared completely. 😉

What are your pet peeves? I know you’ve got them. What words or phrases set your teeth on edge? Use the Comment section and let us know. Please.

Hot Spring at Yellowstone National Park

Entertainment:

Holy Moley, guacamole! I haven’t watched a single thing on tv that wasn’t news, or news related this week. BUT, I have just about finished a quilt. Be sure to tune in next week for a picture of the finished product. 

I did finish a two-part workshop on writing ekphrastic poems. An ekphrastic poem is one that uses a piece of art as inspiration. I’ve been writing them for years, and it’s one of my favorite forms. In the meantime, I’ve managed to have two published in the last few days.

Tower of Horses is the 3d one down at: https://www.ekphrastic.net/ekphrastic/ekphrastic-writing-responses-franz-marcand Autumn’s Kiss is at http://quillandparchment.com/archives/Oct2020/autu2.html The art for both poems is with the poem so you can see the inspiration. If you enjoy poetry, check out both sites, and read the various poems. Because I like poetry, I find it interesting to see all the different stories people tell about the same piece of art. 

Books: 

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

I have almost finished Rage by Bob Woodward. I should have the review posted in the next couple of days.

Outro:

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! (Some people don’t realize if the elastic isn’t tight enough to keep it over their nose, they can tie a knot at the end of the loop. Feel free to educate them.) And Socially Distance! Your Uncle and your Grampy appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I promise when you stop by for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)

If you enjoy this blog, please feel free to share.

Auntie Lenora

Fan Mail! I got Fan Mail!

2 Replies

Well, sort of. Auntie Lenora chooses to take it as such.

Yes, I received an email from Earl of Coffee a couple days ago, wondering if I’d like to exchange articles for our posts. Now, Earl of Coffee reviews coffee and coffee makers. I, of course, am all over the map in topics of discussion. I review movies, tv shows, and books. And, of course, whatever is going on in my life at the moment.

Now, I loves my coffee, but I’m not what could be called a ‘coffee connoisseur’ by a long shot. If it’s dark, and loaded with caffeine, mildly bitter, it’s good. True, there are some coffees I like better than others, but taste is so subjective—as one wag so aptly wrote—one Auntie’s cuppa joe is another Uncle’s cuppa poison.

One of the best coffees I’ve ever had was in a Middle Eastern restaurant. It was made with green coffee beans (unroasted) and I think, cardamom. I’ve never been able to find it anywhere else, and the restaurant, if it’s still open, is a four-hour drive away. A bit far for a cuppa. See, I told you, I’m not a coffee snob.

I can’t help but wonder, did the Earl of Coffee really read my blog? Does he realize that I lean slightly left of center? Sometimes far left of center, though I do try to curb it, unless I just can’t help myself. (see last week’s post)

In perusing the Earl’s site, I came upon an article touting the 5 Best Pots for Cowboy Coffee, and immediately on reading the title, memories flooded in. Yes, Daddy was a cowboy at one time in his life, many years before I was even a gleam in his imagination, and Boy Howdy, did he have an imagination. By the time we finally met, he had moved from jeans and boots into shoes and white-collar shirts. 

While I was in school his secretary and I became friends, she was a delightful little lady (under five feet tall—way under as I recall) and we decided to spend a weekend together for shopping and girl time. I smelled coffee, woke, got up, and wandered into the kitchen. There she stood, facing the stove, holding a pot in her hands and muttering, “one, two, three.” With each count she raised the pot as high as she could reach, and gently lowered it to the stove. On ‘three’ she put it down, picked up a ladle and ‘poured’ herself a cup of coffee.

Never known for my political correctness, I somehow managed it as I asked what she was doing? She replied she was making cowboy coffee as taught by my dad. That she had put in the shells of two eggs, brought it to a boil, and raised and lowered the pot three times to settle the grounds. How I kept a straight face, I’ll never know, but I did. She went on to say that she’d been making coffee like this since Daddy told her how and it was the best coffee she’d ever made, and everyone loved it. True, it was a mighty fine cuppa.

When I told Daddy, he laughed, and he told me I was never, ever, to tell her he was pulling her leg, that when he was a cowboy, they used a coffee pot, grounds, and water. No eggshells, no raising the pot to settle the grounds. I never told. Why is it I don’t think the Earl will be too interested in my snark or my left leaning rants? However, I shall give him the opportunity to make his own decision.

A real-life Pushme-Pullme? “Coffee!” “Swim!”  “Tea!” “Lunch!” Arrrgggghh, I retired to get out of making those decisions. I hope they figured it out.

Don’t you be a Pushme-Pullme. If you are in the market for new coffee equipment—makers, grinders, etc., please be sure to check the Earl of Coffee’s website, especially the Q&A section. You might find questions (and answers) you didn’t know you should be asking. Go the Earl’s website and get the facts you need. Then decide.

Entertainment:

Alas, I haven’t been watching the fun stuff this past week, well, I have been watching the news. At times that qualifies as fun stuff. After being off cable news for a year, I thought I could watch it now, with some restraint. I was wrong. Kind of like drinking from a fire hose because I am sooooo thirsty. However, if you’re still into reading news online, I just received this link to Alexandra Petri’s column in WaPo. I imagine it’s paywalled, but if you have a subscription, it’s worth the read, for the snark alone! “I’ve had enough news now, thank you”

Books: 

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

The God of Irony lives!

Our President has Covid-19. As most of you know, I don’t particularly care for him and his sycophants, still I do wish him, and them, a complete recovery. I can’t help but wonder, since himself is now in a MILITARY HOSPITAL if it’s dawned on him yet that those marvelous people who are taking such good care of him (Do No Harm!) are the “suckers” and “losers” he so disdains. Wonder if any have changed their name tags to read “Sucker” or “Loser”?

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! And Socially Distance! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I promise when you stop by for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

THOU SHALT NOT COVID THY NEIGHBOR’S LIFE–WEAR THY MASK! (Swiped from the www.)

If you enjoy this blog, please feel free to share.

Auntie Lenora

The Great, The Marvelous, the Most Fantastic…

Leave a reply

As of 26 Sep 20, 204,499 Americans have died from Covid19. At 5 seconds to intone each name, and maybe ring a bell, it would take 11 days, 20 hours, 1 minute, 35 seconds to read and tally our loss. At least half would still be alive if people cared about their neighbors and wore masks and the CDC had not been politicized.

…Ruth Bader Ginsburg (aka the Notorious RBG) has died. Age, 87. You all know that. I was too upset to write anything last week, so I’ll write it now, a week after her death. She was, truly, all those things, and she will be sorely missed. Her death may, at this time, bring about the beginning of the end of our country as we know it.

This is an opinion piece. But, what the heck, it’s my blog, so I can write my opinion. (You may counter in the comment section.)

It didn’t take long for the Unholy Swamp Triune to come out and say that they don’t give a rat’s hind end what the American people want, they’re hell-bent-for-leather to name and confirm, a new Supreme before the election. And she’s going to be a “Right to Lifer.” Rules and precedent be damned! Almost three out of four Americans support a woman’s right to control her body. They Unholy Ones don’t. They want to go back in time to the wonderful fiction of Father Knows Best that only existed on television, not in actuality.

And therein lies my angst. Oh, not that they will cheat, that’s a given, but how they have perverted the term “Pro Life/Right to Life.” For the sake of this discussion, I am going to make Right to Life and Pro-Life mean the same thing. These people, all good members of their faith, are NOT Pro Life. They are Pro Birth and Anti-Woman. They want to take all rights away from women, especially where her reproductive life is concerned, because they don’t think women are intelligent enough to think things through. You know, hormones rage and emotions swing, and they have power given by their patriarchal god to rule women and by their god, they’re gonna! After all, if they can keep women pregnant and at home, they won’t take a job from another testosterone poisoned male. And it’s easier to blame a woman than keep their trousers zipped.

I won’t go so far as to say NONE of these Right to Lifers are, but I’ve only met one, and that was years ago, and she put her money where her mouth was! She went to her lawyer, paid to have the papers drawn up, then went to the abortion clinic, talked to the manager in charge, explained what she wanted, and received permission to wait inside and talk to the women seeking treatment. She explained who she was and said if they would carry the baby to term, she would pay all pre-natal costs, delivery costs, etc., and adopt the baby. She showed them the papers, and letters of recommendation that she would make a good mother. She didn’t have any takers, but no one complained to management about her being there. She never adopted (she was single and at that time single women adopting was frowned upon, after all, a baby needs a daddy) but she did take in teens as a foster mother.

Now, I’m Pro Choice or, if you prefer, Pro Life. To me, they are the same thing. Yes, really. The same. I know women who have had abortions, and none chose that option lightly. There were medical reasons, financial reasons, real and solid reasons. Because they had a medical procedure in a safe and sterile environment, many went on to later raise, love, and care for healthy families.

They took care of themselves. They were Pro Life. They made a difficult decision and have lived with it. But they still live. I don’t know any who had an abortion because they got ‘knocked up’ at an inconvenient time.

My mini quilt, Walking the Red Road. (It really is square, the caera wonked it.)

Ladies and Gentlemen, if you don’t want an abortion, then by all means, don’t have one! If your god says it’s wrong to have an abortion, then don’t have one. But the face of your god is not the face of every other woman’s god. And this is NOT a religious country, it is a secular country founded to remain secular with a separation between Church and State. Remember, the world cannot support our current population, and add into that Climate Change, rising seas, and wildfires….

If you are going to vote as a Right to Lifer, then, please, vote for all that entails—good pre- and post-natal care for the mother, good medical and dental coverage for the child until an adult, enough money to have the necessities of life—shelter, food, clothing, education, etc, for that child until s/he is an adult. Don’t say you’re Pro Life when you really only want the woman to have the baby and you don’t care to help out after. That’s not Pro Life. That’s Pro Birth.

Again, I say, if you don’t want an abortion, please, I beg you, don’t have one! But don’t try to force your morality on others, for one day you may be judged by your morality as lived and thought and held in your heart, and you may not like it. One day, these words may appear on your wall, Mene, mene tekel upharsin.

Entertainment:

TCM: I have long said I’d go with any cable company that would let me choose 10 channels and charge me appropriately — Spectrum did. I now have, among other channels, Turner Classic Movies, and on Saturday night I turned it on just as the credits finished for The Red Shoes. The movie came out in 1948, I probably saw it sometime between 1950-1955. It ranked right up there with An Affair to Remember and The Quiet Man in my all-time most loved movies. I’ve seen the latter two several times, sometimes whole movies, usually bits, parts, and pieces. Saturday is the first time I remember seeing The Red Shoes in a reaaaalllllly long time—like since the first time I saw it. Yes, it’s a romantic drama, and I loved it even more now, as an adult, than I did as a kid of 10 or so. I remembered my favorite part, if not exactly the words, the intent. He: Why do you dance? She: Why do you live? I also remember sitting in the theater when it ended thinking that I was a big girl and big girls don’t cry. Well, I didn’t sob out loud. Do I get points for that? Saturday, I sat on my couch and decided it’s perfectly fine for an old Auntie to cry/sniff/sob/tear. I did laugh at the two white males discussing the ending after the end. It’s probably a good thing I wasn’t in the studio, or one might be walking funny now. He thought she was somehow weak. Both of them missed what, to me, was so blatantly obvious—she felt pressured to choose between the love of her life, her husband and the love of her living, dancing. It was obvious to the men, of course, that she should choose between marriage and family or singledom and career. How dare she want both? Why, that was/is a privilege reserved for men. /meow/ Not a HEA movie, but, if you get the chance to see it, well worth the 2 hours 13 minutes of your time to watch it. Some absolutely gorgeous ballet! It’s available to rent on Amazon Prime.

Amazon Prime:  

IMDB has free (with commercials) tv series. I started watching the old Banacek series, again. Loved that show. We’ll see if it holds up.

Books: 

For any books I may have finished and reviewed and mayhaps a bit of snark, see Rainy Day Reads Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha! 

CORRECTION: Last week I said I had Wyrds by Weld Champneys on my bed to read, I hang my head in unabashed shame, the title is Wirds, and it has now moved to my bedside table to be read randomly just before I turn out the light. A delightful book of poetic humor, review is on my site above. 

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

Notorious RBG, We Miss You!

Auntie Lenora

The “Red Road” is a metaphor for living a spiritual way of life. Oglala Sioux medicine man and holy man, Black Elk, spoke of the all the people on the red road as being one interconnected circle of people that made a sacred hoop. Only you can walk your journey, but many are on the road. https://www.spirithorsenation.org/the-red-road

If you enjoyed this post, please consider sharing with others.

Thank you. Auntie Lenora

Is Walking Your Dog Hazardous to Your Health?

6 Replies

Maybe.

I recently read an article in the Washington Post by Karin Brulliard, that dog-walking may be hazardous for seniors. The study didn’t suggest any reasons but did note the numbers of seniors who are injured, often with broken bones, has risen remarkably. According to the article, and a new study by University of Pennsylvania researchers (co-authored by Dr. Jaimo Ahn) the numbers of broken bones increased “…from 1,671 in 2004 to 4,396 in 2017…”  The article went on to state that the reason is unclear, though they do mention that the number of us old farts and fartesses has increased, and we tend to be more active than our predecessors. 

People over 65 who fracture hips have a “20 to 30 percent chance of dying within a year” which is higher than having a mild heart attack or mild cancer. 

The photo accompanying the article shows a gentleman out walking his dog after an overnight snowfall, with icy sidewalks. I don’t think the higher number can solely be blamed on winter. Though the slickery ice and slush certainly don’t help, and probably contribute highly to the study; however, I think it might be related to something else.

I’ve noticed women often wrap the leash about their hand or wrist versus holding it in their hand. If they do not have superb control, especially voice control, over the dog, and the dog sees a squirrel, or another dog, and bolts, the walker goes down. I had a neighbor who might have been five feet tall, and perchance weighed ninety pounds soaking wet and wearing a wet wool coat, and probably in her seventies at the time, who walked her daughter’s big dog. I don’t remember the breed, but a good eighty pounds, and a sweet dog. Also, he was a dog who didn’t always listen to or process commands. I walked my small dog one day, and Big Dog charged, pulling Granny. I told her to drop the leash, and she couldn’t. It was wrapped around her wrist so she wouldn’t let go of it. Her panic at the situation didn’t help. The dog picked up on that and was sure my wee dog was going to attack.

It all worked out in this case, but I’ve since noticed other people, usually women though not all, who do the same thing. They stick their hand through the loop, and then wrap the leash to get a tight hold on it. Now, if they fall, they would report to the doctor they were “just walking the dog” and he pulled me. I’m willing to bet a fresh batch of biscotti that the doc never asks, “How were you holding the leash? Exactly what happened?”

So, why would someone wrap a leash around their hand or wrist? I can think of a few reasons. Two that jump out at me are if they have neuropathy in their hands, their hands may be numb or too painful to hold something, and wrapping lets them know they know they have a good hold on the leash. Or they may have arthritis in their hands and need to wrap the leash, so they don’t drop it because it’s too painful, or impossible, to wrap fingers around it.  

Do I ever wrap the leash around my hand? I try not to. Sometimes I need to short leash my dog, and I hold it, folded, in my hand. I’m considerably bigger and heavier than Sammy Brave Dog, by about 10 times. Should I ever take my sister’s eighty-pound Rottweiler for a walk, I would be certain not to wrap that leash. Quick release is important. I might not let go of the leash, adding my weight to act as a break if he was going after a child, but that would be an option and a pretty fast thought on my part. Then, again, if that child was doing something to make the dog want to go after it, I might drop it (Not!). My little Sammy has caught me when I wasn’t paying attention and was mid-step into a zag, when he jerked to zig. Usually, he’s the one to stop and smell the grass, but every so often, I want to stop and take a photo—he is not as patient with me as I am with him. I’ve been pulled off balance more than once by him, and at my age, well, this old fartess ain’t lookin’ for any more broken bones! I now pay better attention, and don’t wrap the leash.

This is not a dog. This is a coyote. A wild coyote. I named her Mercy for Mercedes Thompson Hauptmann, a human-coyote shapeshifter by our very own local author, Patricia Briggs. I am not stupid enough to put a collar and leash on a coyote, whether real or fiction. I will, however, photograph one if given the opportunity. This photo was taken from a car, out the window, while we were leaving Yellowstone National Park. She patiently sat on the side of the road until we finished with the cameras and drove on, then we saw her in the mirrors as she went up the hill to what we assume were her pups. Note, she had been to the river to drink and eat. You can see the blood on her muzzle if you look close enough.

Entertainment:

Netflix:

Can you believe I haven’t watched a single show on either Netflix? However, I did get my Roku streaming stick and because Spectrum finally made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, I now get 10 channels of my choice, so I have been watching news, etc. that I couldn’t get before. I admit, Friday’s was pretty sad to watch, what with the passing of our beloved RBG. It was too soon. I wasn’t ready.

Amazon Prime:  

The Scalphunters, 1968 movie starring Burt Lancaster, Shelley Winters, Telly Savalas, and Ossie Davis. I wasn’t sure I wanted to watch this since I know what scalp hunters were, but that is a pretty good cast, so I decided to give it a go. The music was fun, the credits were fun, and it started out fun and I laughed out loud several times through it. Lancaster plays a fur trapper, friendly with (perhaps related to?) the Kiowa. Davis is a slave of the Kiowa. The Kiowa steal Lancaster’s furs and supplies (including booze) and give him Davis. Lancaster doesn’t want him. Lancaster and Davis follow the Kowa to wait until they are drunk and retrieve the packhorse and furs. In the meantime, Savalas and his group of scalp hunters show up, kill the Indians and steal the packhorse and away we go for round two. Shelly Winters, long one of my faves, is marvelous. The ending was good. and, yes, it’s a Western, so of course there are fistfights. And just because it’s a fun fact to know, I’ll pass it along—not all who were scalped died. It depended a lot on how the scalp was taken. If an axe was used, death from a crushed skull was probable, if the scalp was lifted and a “clean” knife used, the person actually stood a good chance of surviving, if he got help and no infection. I had a cousin who was scalped in one of the Indian wars in the Ohio Valley. He survived and lived several more years to die an old man in bed.I\ I assume it was his bed, but I don’t know.

Books: 

I just looked at my bed and have 6 books on it I am reading, and a puppy dog who is keeping it warm for me. Not the books, the bed. He doesn’t like books. The books are: Wyrds by Weld Champneys, Willow Springs anthology, Chrysanthemum 2020 Literary Anthology, Before Our Eyes by Eleanor Wilnor, The Vagina Bible by Jen Gunter, MD, and RAGE by Bob Woodword. See, I told you I am an eclectic reader. For any books I may have finished and reviewed and mayhaps a bit of snark, see Rainy Day Reads Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

Auntie Lenora

Not the Post I Planned for Today

10 Replies

I have a post written, and was going to put it up today, but then, life happened. Next week we’ll discuss the hazards of dog walking.

The West Coast is burning. Literally. And, no, it isn’t because we didn’t go out and sweep or rake the forest floor, it’s because of climate change and our collective inability to face it and act to correct it. Or at least slow it down. As Governor Inslee said, these fires are not an act of god, they are an act of climate change. If anyone knows about forest and fire management, it’s West Coasters.

I’m amazed at the people I talk to who either never took basic science classes in school (my first science class was in fifth grade) or forgot all they learned. I am not a particularly well-educated person. I’ve had some college, but I am fairly well-read. And I suffer from terminal curiosity. I’ve known about climate change for at least two decades. These people with little to no science knowledge, also seem to have little to no curiosity. It’s almost as if they’re afraid to be curious, to ask a question. What if the answer isn’t in alignment with what they already believe? Gosh, can’t they change their mind? I can’t imagine people with no curiosity as to how the world about them works. All children are curious. They are born that way. Getting answers to their questions is how they grow, survive. How did these people lose their curiosity? Parent? Teacher? Preacher? Are you one of those who has lost your curiosity? Do you know why? If comfortable doing so, leave your answer in the Comment section. I’m truly curious. and it may help me understand where you’re coming from.

The data are in. The data are known. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better, and if we don’t start acting soon, like today, it won’t get better until humans are extinct. Which might not be all that bad. It seems obvious to me that many people think that way, vote that way, act that way, and we’re headed that way. So, they must want it that way, yes?

I have low-grade asthma, I have a good mask and filter, I have a dog, and the air around my domicile has been in the dangerous to hazardous zone for over a week now. I try not to go forth more than four times a day, and even the dog seems to recognize that he needs to do his business quickly and come back inside. My eyes burn. I don’t know if my low-grade asthma will blossom to full-bore asthma or not, and I don’t want to find out the hard way.

A friend lost her home. All that’s left is part of the chimney — and her memories. She lost her belongings, she lost her local community, but she’s alive. She gives meaning to one of my favorite affirmations: Things are to use; people are to love. Roshi Suzuki said that all is an illusion, some illusions are sadder than others. The loss of one’s home, the treasured belongings, the physical reminders of cherished memories, is one of those sadder illusions.

Check out Bill Nye the Science Guy on climate change. He has a marvelous way of putting technical stuff into words even I can understand. Besides, he’s fun to watch and has several YouTube presentations. There is a wealth of information online, good information, about the climate crisis we are now in. If you search, you will find. And if you find someone who agrees with you that it’s a hoax, fake news, doesn’t exist, they are flat out in denial and or lying. Follow their money.

Photo of Bateman Island taken last winter from patio, the trees on far shore are in Pasco, Wa

Photo taken 11 Sep 20, same view. Pasco is gone. The dark water you see just past the island is a raft o riverweed, not the far shore. This has been our air for the past week and then some. THIS is smoke brought about by Climate Change.

Entertainment:

Netflix: I became so engrossed in A Thousand Goodnights, I gave up parsing it to one episode/night, and binged the last few episodes. For some reason, I had the idea it was only 10 episodes long—it wasn’t. It was 20, and I’m chuffed it was. There was plenty of time to develop all the subplots and get to an appropriate ending. It was, in a word, delightful. If you are looking for something without car chases, gunfights, swordfights, nasty people, &c, I strongly recommend this. It’s slow, beautiful, and lovely.

I started Life, a Korean drama about an arrogant businessman who has taken over a hospital. I probably won’t finish it. It’s 16 episodes long, and not even humor to defuse the tension. The bad guys wear black (suits) the good guys wear white (lab coats). Gosh, I wonder who will win? And there’s not a single character in the first five episodes I give a rat’s hind end about.

Amazon Prime:  I’m not watching anything at the time on Prime, but one series I absolutely loved is Hamish Macbeth. It’s out of Scotland and Hamish lives in a small town, is the local cop, and deals with some of the most fun crimes around. Be sure to turn on captions as the brogue is thick and fast and I guarantee you won’t catch it all, no matter how attune you are to the dialect.

Books: 

See Rainy Day Reads for reviews. and mayhaps a bit of snark. Who? Me? Snark? Bwahahahaha!

Wearing a mask is a proven method to help slow down the spread of Covid19. Please, wear your mask. And wear it properly—keep it over your nose! Your Auntie and your Granny appreciate your thoughtfulness. However, I promise when you come next week for a fresh cuppa and homemade biscotti, we’ll be properly socially distanced so you may remove your mask at that time. Honest. Trust me.

Speaking of masks, check out this site, Puramasks. Their masks are good to keep smoke out (filters are at 2.5 whatevers), as well as give you a chance to protect your neighbor. https://store.purakamasks.com I can tell immediately if I have the mask on correctly, so the filter is over my nose. If on correctly, I don’t smell the smoke. If not, I adjust toot sweet! 😉

Auntie Lenora