Two Reports

Yesterday's report from Ann.

1.  This morning Edmund (three years old) said the family prayer. He expressed thanks for "the opportunity the boys have of going to school." The boys are Charlie and Johnny, his two old brothers. Ann was tickled her three-year-old used "opportunity" correctly. So am I. 

But there's more in that expression than a correct use of language. There's the sense that he is not yet one of the boys, and that reaches my heart. It makes me remember Richard's feelings when his big brother Andrew went off to kindergarten, leaving Richard at home, just as Edmund is left at home. I hope and trust that when Edmund has the "opportunity" to go to school he will know he is one of the boys.

2.  Later, when Ann took Edmund and Mina outside, she said, "It's a such a nice day." Edmund said, "Yes, there's a breeze."

I love that little kid.

Last night's report from Lola about what Clayton did yesterday. Clayton is ten years old.

He said, "Mom, what would you have done?" Then he told her what he did.

First, you need to know that Clayton has been wanting a yo-yo. His big brother Bryan bought him one, which made Clayton very happy. Sure, a yo-yo is no big thing, but it's a fun thing, and when you want one and then you get it, you're happy. 

Now his story. He has a friend at school who has been absent for some long time because of a fractured skull. Yesterday the friend finally came back to school. When Clayton saw him he felt bad for him and wondered what he could do to help, to make him feel better.

He told his mother this, "I thought he was more important than I was, so I gave him my yo-yo." Yes, his friend liked the yo-yo and felt better. It made him happy. But for me the best part is that Clayton gave away something dear to him to help someone else. That's the part his mother likes, too.

She told him it was a very nice thing to do. And when she told me the story, we both cried a little. 

I suspect Clayton will get another yo-yo, but that was not in his mind when he wanted to help his friend.

What's not to love about a kid like that?

 

Looking Forward

Tomorrow Andrew and I leave for my 55-year high school reunion. Holy cow! Fifty-five years!

I have been sick. Quite sick. Hoping so much that tomorrow and the weekend will find me well.

I'm sure that between me and my friends from high school that I'll see there, I will look the oldest, my face the most wrinkled, my hair the whitest. I have always looked old, all my life. Once upon a time I liked that fact. Now guess how I feel about it. 

But here's a good thing: I'm not fat.

I hope Andrew will enjoy this time in Southern California. (I capitalize the "S" in Southern because I have long considered 

Southern California the true California. Live with it.) I will be glad he's with me. I want to show him where his dad and I grew up, and I want us to see the ocean a lot. I miss the ocean, almost every day. And many days I wish to be there, driving along PCH and watching the water, as I did long ago in my mother's 1955 Ford hard top convertible. Sweet car. Beautiful drive.

Okay, I'll say it. Those were the days.

I loved growing up in Santa Monica. I know much has changed there. I will have to live with that for three days.

Tree trash

I've had two tree guys come and give me estimates. I think I'll not have any others come. I liked both of those guys, but there's $560 difference in their bids, for the same work.

I have several trees I want trimmed up, and I want the limbs of my front dawn redwood cut so they don't hang in the Shuells' yard.

The other neighbors' pine trees bother me, of course. I want them cut back so their limbs are not over my space, over my property line, which they are big time at this time. I have spoken to my neighbor and told her what I plan to do. She was agreeable, but I don't think that means they'll pay, although they should because the law says their trees are trespassing.

Did you know that?

I asked her if she knew when they bought the house they bought the trees also. She said, "No."

But it's a fact. And there are three pines in their front yard and two in the back. Four of the five trespass onto my property. And, by the way, contribute greatly to the crummy way my lawn looks.

I didn't say all that to her, but she said to me, "I actually thought these were your trees."

Fat chance.

One of the tree guys, Matt, the guy I won't be hiring, said, "These pine trees. People plant them and then look what happens to them. They get huge."

"I know."

 "And why did they plant them so close to your property line? They're almost on your property line."

"I don't know and I know."
 
(My across the street neighbor was over and I told her I was tired of sweeping and raking and hauling pine needles. She said, "Well, but you don't want them cut down, do you?" I said, "Oh yes I do."  But I guess I'll have to settle for cutting them back.)

Matt pointed out something I should have thought of, as in DUH. "Even if you cut these lower limbs, the tree will still drop needles on your property."

"Oh brother. That is true."

He said, "These trees belong in the forest."

Exactly.

My dilemma

Paul has spent half an hour on the phone with me, helping me troubleshoot (try this, try that) my printer. He is very good and patient to do that. We went down all of HP's steps. At least twice.

Nothing worked.

My printer is broken. Right? I never had a printer that broke.

Do I have to buy a new printer? Or should I buy a new car?

Just kidding.

Addendum:
Just kidding about the car. I bought a new printer today, Friday, the 13th. 

A Small Story

Yesterday I found a little note from Wayne, my husband, to his mother. He was four years old when he wrote it and missing his mother very much. She was gone for ten weeks because she was struck down with polio in July 1943.Wayne's baby sister, Kate, was six months old. A very hard time for them all. The children moved in with their grandparents for those ten weeks and maybe a little longer. I suppose Goldie spent his time, when not working, at the Kaiser Hospital with Doris.

When Doris returned home there were many people--nurses and others--to care for her and help her because she could do nothing for a long time. And the children were kept from her. Eventually, she could walk again--I do not know how long that took--with a cane and a brace on her left leg. That is how I knew her.

During her convalescence at home, Wayne was responsible for carrying and emptying the bedpan. Kate says he told her years later that he liked doing that job because of the warmth of the bedpan. It was warm like his mother.

The note breaks my heart. The printing is large and irregular, but clearly it was important for him to write it. He drew lines across the paper to help himself keep the words straight.

DEAR MAMA

I AM A GOOD BOY. HURRY UP AND GET WELL. WE MISS YOU TOO. LOVE FROM KATE E AND WAYNE

Kate E is Kate Ellen.

It's the "I am a good boy" that breaks my heart. I think he always wanted to be a good boy, especially for his mother.

A Little Grammar

PB2. I already don't like it, but that just means I have a) a closed mind; or b) a resistance to change; or c) an aversion to products using words incorrectly in their ads or on their labels; or d) all of the above. It's powdered peanut butter. One reason I don't like it is that the label says 85% less fat calories. Less is the wrong word.

Less is used sometimes as an adverb and sometimes as an adjective. In this use it's an adjective, but it's still the wrong one.

Here's why: Because the noun, calories, is plural, the descriptor must reflect the plurality and so has to be fewer. Fat doesn't really influence the adjective because it is also a modifier of calories. If the message on the label said 85% less fat, that would be correct. But it's fat calories.

You get it, I'm sure.

Nobody cares about that kind of stuff but me. But to me it speaks of carelessness, in every sense of that word, or ignorance, and reflects on the product itself. That's, to me.

Yeah, I like peanut butter. And I buy the old fashioned kind you have to stir. But you don't add water and stir. That's something else I don't like about PB2 right off the bat.

You try this powdered stuff and let me know. 

P.S. Amazon sells PB2, sent me the picture of the jar, its price--$4.79--and encouragement to buy.