Sunday, June 21, 2015

Celebrate the Fourth?

Himself and I crewed for a fireworks professional back in the days when city fireworks could still be hand-loaded. The experience taught me a great deal of respect and caution around those explosives. Our boss trained us to be safe and made sure we understood the danger of the materials we were handling.

As the Fourth of July approaches every year I’m reminded of that training and the lack of it in so many small towns across the country.

But worse, much worse, than the danger of fireworks in a professional setting is the danger of the fireworks sold to the general public at roadside stands. Here in Oregon those stands are legal, a multitude of them are about to open, and I am horrified.

Even on a “normal” year people using these ‘safe and sane’ fireworks manage to set off grass fires. In this drought, this year when the environment is tinder-dry everywhere, the possibilities are horrendously magnified. Shame on those organizations who maintain and operate those stands! Surely they could find more responsible ways to raise funds. And double shame on the folks who buy and use that merchandise, putting themselves, their neighbors, and their community in danger.

Friday, June 19, 2015

Life was a whole lot more complicated when I was young but despite that somehow I managed to deal with it in a more graceful and competent manner. I could sail through my day and leave behind a swathe of accomplishments. I could rise and get laundry started, set out the sprinkler in the garden, clean up the kitchen, and while doing so make plans for a trip to the supermarket. Laundry made it to the dryer (unforgotten), the thirsty plants were saved from death by dehydration, the kitchen was tidy (every day!) and I made it to the grocery store and back sans list and with all needed items bought. I remembered birthdays and anniversaries, sent gifts and cards that arrived in time. I could read a book in a single day AND remember the title, author, and storyline the next day.

Now I have ascended to seniorhood and things have changed.

These days I need a detailed map to get from one end of the house to the other. Plus it is wise if I also take a written list of what I was going for. And why. Laundry gets forgotten and left in the dryer for days at a time. I bow to nature and don’t keep a garden requires watering, though I’m sure if I did set out a sprinkle there would soon be a moat around the house. No trip to the store is finished without arriving home short a few items I really needed. The kitchen gets cleaned (sort of) when the stacks of dishes totter and tonight’s dinner requires pans that are soaking in the sink. I do remember birthdays but only because of a list on my computer and even with electronic ecards I’m sometimes late with celebratory wishes. I read but seldom recall authors or titles when I want to tell a friend about the book. Give it a few days and I can’t remember the story. 

There is no use being depressed about these changes and worrying that brain-rot is encroaching. I’ve decided instead to chalk it up to the complexities of modern life, the years more of knowledge that must be crammed into my head, and a ho-hum attitude toward getting things done when I know full well they never do. Get done, that is.

Zen attitude under construction…


Monday, June 8, 2015

Getting Older

It is time for me to retire to my rocker with my teacup and embroidery, and to surrender to the inevitable changes, in my mind degradation, of our language. Reading the posts on Facebook gives me heartburn. I’m not a member of the grammar police or in any way a perfect speller - though I do know how to use a spell checker - but the thumb texters make me crazy. When they take the time to create a poster and then don’t bother to use decent English I shudder. In another twenty years, if it takes that long, a message like this will probably look like:

tim rckr teabroid n chng. Lang?repst FB brn. -grmrcop spll✔︎r …


You get the idea. 

Monday, June 1, 2015

Words for Rain


Himself:

"Here in Oregon we have 100 words for rain. In Texas they have just one word and it’s one they can’t say on Network television."