Here Already

It's hard to believe that Labor Day is already upon us.  It seems no more than three weeks since the patios in our area were prepared for a summer of entertaining and barbecuing.

While we still have three weeks of official summer in front of us, dusk is suddenly coming all too early and dawn breaks far later than I'd like.

As we all set off on our long weekend plans, I'd like to wish everyone a Happy Labor Day weekend.  May you enjoy the rest from your work.

And should you find yourself in an establishment where people do not enjoy the opportunity for an extended break in order to provide the services to ensure your fun... be sure to thank them for being there. Gift them with a grateful word and pleasant smile.

Squirrel Death Watch

The gray squirrel sat between the double yellow lines in the middle of the roadway staring down at its unmoving mate. Even as cars passed by on both sides the surviving half of the pair did not so much as flinch and I wondered if it new - or cared - it was courting the same fate as its mate.

Did the surviving squirrel understand what had happened or was it expecting its partner to wake from a snooze and dash off in continuation of a game of hide and seek? Thinking perhaps squirrels mate for life and that the one still alive would eventually choose to walk out in front of another vehicle I checked in with Dr. Google when I got home.

Apparently squirrels do not establish lifetime partnerships. This discovery only left me more perplexed as to why the one squirrel should have remained in harm's way hovering over the deceased partner.

The Story Writes

The ideas come faster than I can sort them. Somehow my fingers, dancing across the keyboard, manage to convert thoughts to words. Spelling is atrocious, grammar worse, and punctuation non-existent but there is no stopping the flood. The few times I dare to glance at the clock large chunks of hours have passed.

The story has taken a twist I had not anticipated. the characters are now determining the plot twists. I am both horrified and astounded by what goes on in the minds of those characters.

It had to happen.  My fingers begin to cramp - hitting wrong keys and turning out an undecipherable jumble. The spell is broken. I long to go back and read what I have written but understand this is not the time. Tomorrow I will learn where the characters have taken me.

Mother of Storms

It was the flash of lightning that made me realize how quickly the afternoon had darkened. I switched on the light just as the delayed rumble of thunder caused the floor to vibrate.

Focused on the story I was writing, I was oblivious to the rain until a gusting wind drove the raindrops against the window like so many marbles being tossed against the glass.

Another flash of lightning with thunder cracking at almost the same time was finally enough for me to turn away from my computer and look through the rain streaked glass.  Overhead clouds swirled at multiple layers - with only a little imagination, I found myself looking up rather than down into a monstrous whirlpool.

A four pronged fork of lightning stabbed into the ground, leaving me momentarily blinded and unprepared for the next onslaught of wind driven rain. I recoiled from the window as though the glass might shatter into a thousand shards.

The wind rose to banshee pitch and with it the rain changed direction once, twice, and a third time in nearly as many minutes.

It was the mother of all storms - a tumult that ran uninterrupted for twelve hours, ending at four in the morning with a deluge of hail that I was sure would finally result in the shattered glass I had half anticipated when the weather was first working itself into a frenzy.

Mental and Physical

Exactly when did this happen?

I joked the other day about life for those eligible for AARP, then found myself observing national Elderly Appreciation Day by climbing into bed before dusk had fully transformed to dark.

I though sure after a good night's rest on Monday I would have recovered from helping College Dude and Language Lass move into their new apartment... but apparently not.

Tuesday found me struggling to stay awake at work. I slipped out to my car at lunch for a twenty-minute power nap that ended up consuming my entire one hour lunch break.  Throughout my drive home I told myself I would exercise before dinner...then found myself flopped on the bed before I could change out of my work clothes.

It's not right.  Mentally I'm the same guy I was when I was nineteen, but physically...well I'm eligible for AARP.

Elderly Wine

The headline of the article read: Wine Could Stop Falls in Elderly.

Now that I've reached an age at which I can qualify to be a card carrying member of AARP, I can speak as an authority on this topic.  After a couple glasses of wine I have no interest in getting out of my chair.... and if I don't get out of my chair it follows that I won't fall down.

So it makes perfect sense to me that drug stores should start selling those wine chillers that restaurants use to keep vino chilled at table-side.

Elderly folks could pick up their blood pressure medicine, a box of adult Depends, and a wine chiller... then call their kids to make a liquor run for them.

Safely nestled into their wings chairs, sofas or recliners, the silver haired generation could down a bottle of Chardonnay, fall asleep without having to worry about running for the bathroom, and wake up the next morning with all their bones in tact.

Relaxation Day

It was National Relaxation Day today and I missed the announcement until stumbling across the internet headline at 9:00 p.m as I logged on to do my blog post.

Shouldn't this be a national holiday - I mean how are you supposed to relax if you have to go to work?

I think Romney and Obama should work this into their campaigns. It would certainly put something meaningful into the dialogue.

Then again, maybe the presidential candidates should go in for extended relaxation - like maybe a three month time out.

If I could turn on the radio without hearing the latest campaign nonsense I'd be much more relaxed.

Lot Time

I found myself thinking about parking lots today and it occurred to me that even something as nondescript as a few hundred square feet of asphalt can become a window on our lives.

The parking lot that had come to mind was the lot adjacent to the church that was just down the street from our home when we lived in rural Pennsylvania.

The lot was my destination when I pulled my toddlers in a wagon for an afternoon adventure. The same lot was where I watched my son and daughter work to master a bicycle without training wheels. Later still the parking lot was where my son worked out the logistics of parallel parking and three point turns in preparation for his driving test.

On that patch of black asphalt I watched years slip by. While I was convinced I could mark each day at the time, it now seems certain that there must indeed be such things as time warps because, surely, those years could not have passed as quickly as they did.

Of Cloudy Days and Nightlights

If you're like me, you can't get out of your own way on a cloudy day and nothing seems better than the idea of falling into bed.

Turns out that the amount of light hitting your eye dictates how much melatonin your body produces. Apparently melatonin is what triggers your body to sleep.  Less light equals more melatonin production. More melatonin equals a desire to sleep.

So the next time you fall asleep at your desk on a cloudy day you can tell your boss it's beyond your control.

On the other hand... you might want to think about those nightlights or falling asleep with the TV on.  More light equals less melatonin. Less melatonin results in a harder time falling asleep.

That's it for Biology 101 today folks... wishing you a safe a restful sleep, sleep, sleep.

A Grandparent's Finger

They walk the shoreline in an unending parade. Families on vacation, couples on weekend dates, groups of teenage girls, teams of teenage boys, and individual travelers of all ages.

They wear bathing suits, sarapes, shorts, sundresses, and slacks. Their hair is controlled by hats, visors, scarves, and headbands. Most walk barefoot but there are those who wear sandals or water shoes- and even some in sneakers who shuffle in a constant dance with the water.

Some have milky white skin, some are burnt lobster red, some have the glow of a perfect tan and some are a mix of all these.

But the folks I notice mos tare the still-knock-kneed children barely beyond toddler years who walk with their tiny hand locked around the finger of a grandparent. The kids move in a stumble-walk as they try to take in the sea, sand, shells, and beach-goers while keeping their eyes on the grandparent who walks beside them. There is a look in the eyes of these children that tells me they revere the grandmother of grandfather who offers a single wrinkled digit to help them keep their balance. These children are in awe and at peace at the same time. They accept that wherever their grandparent takes them is the place they are meant to be and they worry about nothing other than being at their elder's side.

Crawling Shadow

In the early dawn hours the shadow in the corner seemed roughly the size of European sports car. There was something about the shape of it that made me reluctant to turn on any more lights so I sat quietly waiting for my eyes to adjust from a night of slumber.

And when it registered that the dark form was not a shadow but an actual ... thing... I quickly pulled my feet up from the floor.

For the thing was a black bulbous mass linked to eight hooked legs that held the balloon-like center well off the floor.

Okay - so it wasn't actually as big as a sports car - but it was definitely the biggest spider I've ever seen short of the rubber tarantulas I used to torment my sister with.

Usually octopeds don't bother me - but in this particular case I was seriously considering placing an urgent shipment for a flame thrower with which to annihilate the creepy crawly. 

Ultimately common sense prevailed. Slipping out of the far side of the bed, I grabbed a shoe and made a stealthy, roundabout approach on thing that pulsed up and down on springy legs. A direct hit brought an end to the nightmare - after which I went in search of some paper towels to clean the rather significant splatter that decorated the wall.

Cosmic Hand

It was a cosmic experience - the hand of god reaching down to lift me away from my cares and woes.

The blanket of flat, steel gray clouds was broken by an enourmous puffy white cloud that unfolded into a gigantic hand right before my eyes. The sun must have been directly behind the gigantic hand because the palm and fingers had an internal orange glow.

After ten days of being sicker than I've been in several years, I would have willingly parked my car and stepped right into that welcoming hand had it lowered far enough. The thought of curling up - and sinking into - a cottony soft embrace would have been welcome relief from the sore throat, watery eyes, runny nose, raspy cough, and clogged ears that had filled my past few days.

Alas, a bend in the road sent the saving hand out of sight and I was left to travel on into the premature twilight beneath the dreary blanketed sky.

Crabby Grass

The one drawback to going on vacation is that the rest of the world goes on as usual.

E-mails pile up, the U.S. mail fills the mailbox, and the grass still grows.

And just who were the folks who decided front lawns should be composed of special fescues requiring feeding, weeding, watering, and all around tender loving care when crab grass proliferates regardless of the soil quality or rainfall?

It seems to me any grass that can multiply exponentially in a mere week despite blazing heat should be the grass of choice for all lawns.  I'd never have to fertilize or water my lawn again if crab grass was acceptable to the homeowner's association.

Of course those crabby shoots that race out across the soil at light speed just might grab me by the ankles on my way to the car in the morning.......

Salad Free Travel

Given the media advertising for organic, sugar free, low sodium, gluten free, and all wheat products; you would think that there would be an abundance of healthy foods available to the general population.

And while that may be the case in our local grocery stores it certainly doesn't hold true for the eating establishments lining the highways and biways of America.

After racking up some twelve hundred highway miles over the past five days, I would have given my right arm for a well stocked salad bar. Try as I might to find a salad I could make a meal of, the best I could find was a mix of greens to accompany a high carb, high fat dinner.

It seems that when traveling American's are determined to thrive on starches, meats, and pasta.

Never were the Tupperware containers of fruit and garden salads in my refrigerator such a welcome sight as when I returned home.