This is only a test. I just downloaded an app on my iPhone that allows me to post blogs on blogger.com.
Did it work? I don't see a spot for adding photos. As I said, this is only a test to see if the app passed and if it delivered what it promised. Unless I see a spot that allows me to post a photo, this app will not pass.
If no photo accompanies this blog, the app failed to meet me expectations.
Can't complain though. It WAS free ;)
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Thursday, February 24, 2011
I Know Where The Wild Things Are
Rain Storms, Snow Storms, Ice Storms, Oh My!
This past Monday, during my trip from Illinois to Virginia, I was given a special glimpse into the minds of – let's call them cretins – or to make it even more simple, drivers without brains.
My son and his three children had picked me up at 9 a.m. for what was to be no more than a 12-hour jaunt. I was actually looking forward to spending some quality "vacation" time with my son and his children.
Despite anticipated stops for meals and gas, our expected time of arrival in Virginia should have been no later than 10 p.m. We would have had plenty of time to get a good night's sleep before the following morning when my son left for work and two of my grandchildren left for school.
Saying goodbye to Illinois, we optimistically drove through rainy weather as we headed east. What's a little rain, right?
The rain, however, turned into torrential downpours. Before we left Indiana, and all the way through Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Washington, D.C., and West Virginia, we drove through rain storms, ice storms, and snow storms – THE WHOLE WAY!
You would think people would drive carefully during this kind of weather. But, no. Why wouldn't you drive two feet behind the person in front of you when you could find out, first hand, what crashing into a car feels like? I mean, after all, what kind of wimp slows down in icy weather conditions?
Before we knew it, we saw one car after another sitting in ditches along several highways – state after state.
Part of the reason so many cars ended up in ditches that day may have been because of the states' (all of them) inability to keep the roadways clear. They should take lessons from Chicago and learn two very important words – salt and plow.
But I think the reason cars ended up in ditches had more to do with choices made either by inexperienced drivers or by stupid drivers than it did with road conditions.
"Guess what, People!" I wanted to scream, "When you follow drivers in life-threatening weather conditions – so closely they can see the whites of your eyes – you end up in a ditch."
Having written that, I have to admit that on curves where icy conditions exist, wheels don't always cooperate when drivers turn the steering wheel. So I do understand how road conditions can contribute to landing in ditches, even for the most experienced and intelligent drivers (post smiley face here – I landed in a ditch once when I turned my steering wheel as I rounded a curve, but my wheels slid straight).
No matter how prepared you are, no matter how much common sense you have, though, when Mother Nature takes the wheel, you sometimes have no control. But having common sense should alert you to BACK OFF and to SLOW DOWN!
The only people who seem to be exempt from understanding common sense driving practices during inclement weather, are truck drivers. You can almost see the gleam in their eyes when they avalanche your car with enough ice and dirty snow to completely blind you from seeing anything beyond a one-foot radius. I imagine them laughing their hideous laughs and growling their hideous growls (I now know "Where the Wild Things Are" – thank you Maurice Sendak) when they fling truck waste at all passing vehicles.
And that's exactly what happened to ours (well, my son's). As ice clung to the windshield and then froze there, we often found ourselves peering through tiny pinholes of clarity though the front window.
I was beginning to hate truck drivers.
And then something miraculous happened. Truck drivers, in procession-like precision pulled off to the right lane, one behind the other (they had previously ignored the "Trucks Use Right Lane" signs that had been plastered all over the expressway–now suddenly they decided to access the right lane and just SIT). Everywhere we looked, those same truck drivers who couldn't wait to splash us with muddy snow were SITTING in the right lane of the expressway.
I don't know why. I don't care why. I was just glad they were out of our way. I've never seen so many truck drivers in the right lane, not moving. I should have taken a picture.
The truckers were not alone, though, because we, too, ended up sitting in a couple of spots ourselves on I-70, without knowing why. I even called traffic.com at one point to find out what lay ahead, but they offered me as much information as I already knew – it may be due to the weather. Wow, they couldn't have been more helpful.
The prayers I used to pray when I passed other motorists who were stuck in traffic on the opposite side of the road ("Thank you, God, that I'm not sitting in that long line of traffic") were probably now being prayed by people in the westbound lanes of I-70.
Finally, after close to twenty minutes, we were able to move. Well, that is, until we reached yet another I-70 East interchange. A HUGE, and I mean HUGE semi was parked on the cloverleaf, preventing anyone from moving forward. Truck after truck after truck after truck lined up like big ducks along the cloverleaf and the connecting expressway.
My son and I, exhausted as we were, decided that we had to find another way. Otherwise, we might be sitting on the expressway for hours, and we were still several hours away from home.
Using his reliable GPS (choke choke – it kept sending us to legal u-turns somewhere in Erie, Pennsylvania, I think), we followed all the routes designed to get us out of the mangled mess on I-70 and to his home in Virginia. Eventually, after numerous u-turns, we ended up at the same entrance to I-70 East, but from the opposite side. That big semi, with all the other trucks, and God knows how many more, were still sitting on the expressway waiting to move forward.
At 5 a.m., we finally made it home, utterly exhausted.
After that horrendous experience, based on my observations and perceptions, here's what I have learned about drivers:
Some auto drivers think they can outwit Mother Nature as they exceed the speed limit and flick off those of us who appreciate the effects of ice on the road.
And truckers? I think the ones we saw that day enjoyed endangering the lives of EVERYBODY on the roadway as they played their stupid games with those of us in smaller vehicles, and we were in an SUV!
Those truckers have vacated their position on that I-70 cloverleaf, but I genuinely hope they enjoyed their stay at the Holiday Inn Expressway.
If you would like to read more from this author, look at the upper right hand side of this blog.
Thank you for visiting!
This past Monday, during my trip from Illinois to Virginia, I was given a special glimpse into the minds of – let's call them cretins – or to make it even more simple, drivers without brains.
My son and his three children had picked me up at 9 a.m. for what was to be no more than a 12-hour jaunt. I was actually looking forward to spending some quality "vacation" time with my son and his children.
Despite anticipated stops for meals and gas, our expected time of arrival in Virginia should have been no later than 10 p.m. We would have had plenty of time to get a good night's sleep before the following morning when my son left for work and two of my grandchildren left for school.
Saying goodbye to Illinois, we optimistically drove through rainy weather as we headed east. What's a little rain, right?
The rain, however, turned into torrential downpours. Before we left Indiana, and all the way through Ohio, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Washington, D.C., and West Virginia, we drove through rain storms, ice storms, and snow storms – THE WHOLE WAY!
You would think people would drive carefully during this kind of weather. But, no. Why wouldn't you drive two feet behind the person in front of you when you could find out, first hand, what crashing into a car feels like? I mean, after all, what kind of wimp slows down in icy weather conditions?
Before we knew it, we saw one car after another sitting in ditches along several highways – state after state.
Part of the reason so many cars ended up in ditches that day may have been because of the states' (all of them) inability to keep the roadways clear. They should take lessons from Chicago and learn two very important words – salt and plow.
But I think the reason cars ended up in ditches had more to do with choices made either by inexperienced drivers or by stupid drivers than it did with road conditions.
"Guess what, People!" I wanted to scream, "When you follow drivers in life-threatening weather conditions – so closely they can see the whites of your eyes – you end up in a ditch."
Having written that, I have to admit that on curves where icy conditions exist, wheels don't always cooperate when drivers turn the steering wheel. So I do understand how road conditions can contribute to landing in ditches, even for the most experienced and intelligent drivers (post smiley face here – I landed in a ditch once when I turned my steering wheel as I rounded a curve, but my wheels slid straight).
No matter how prepared you are, no matter how much common sense you have, though, when Mother Nature takes the wheel, you sometimes have no control. But having common sense should alert you to BACK OFF and to SLOW DOWN!
The only people who seem to be exempt from understanding common sense driving practices during inclement weather, are truck drivers. You can almost see the gleam in their eyes when they avalanche your car with enough ice and dirty snow to completely blind you from seeing anything beyond a one-foot radius. I imagine them laughing their hideous laughs and growling their hideous growls (I now know "Where the Wild Things Are" – thank you Maurice Sendak) when they fling truck waste at all passing vehicles.
And that's exactly what happened to ours (well, my son's). As ice clung to the windshield and then froze there, we often found ourselves peering through tiny pinholes of clarity though the front window.
I was beginning to hate truck drivers.
And then something miraculous happened. Truck drivers, in procession-like precision pulled off to the right lane, one behind the other (they had previously ignored the "Trucks Use Right Lane" signs that had been plastered all over the expressway–now suddenly they decided to access the right lane and just SIT). Everywhere we looked, those same truck drivers who couldn't wait to splash us with muddy snow were SITTING in the right lane of the expressway.
I don't know why. I don't care why. I was just glad they were out of our way. I've never seen so many truck drivers in the right lane, not moving. I should have taken a picture.
The truckers were not alone, though, because we, too, ended up sitting in a couple of spots ourselves on I-70, without knowing why. I even called traffic.com at one point to find out what lay ahead, but they offered me as much information as I already knew – it may be due to the weather. Wow, they couldn't have been more helpful.
The prayers I used to pray when I passed other motorists who were stuck in traffic on the opposite side of the road ("Thank you, God, that I'm not sitting in that long line of traffic") were probably now being prayed by people in the westbound lanes of I-70.
Finally, after close to twenty minutes, we were able to move. Well, that is, until we reached yet another I-70 East interchange. A HUGE, and I mean HUGE semi was parked on the cloverleaf, preventing anyone from moving forward. Truck after truck after truck after truck lined up like big ducks along the cloverleaf and the connecting expressway.
My son and I, exhausted as we were, decided that we had to find another way. Otherwise, we might be sitting on the expressway for hours, and we were still several hours away from home.
Using his reliable GPS (choke choke – it kept sending us to legal u-turns somewhere in Erie, Pennsylvania, I think), we followed all the routes designed to get us out of the mangled mess on I-70 and to his home in Virginia. Eventually, after numerous u-turns, we ended up at the same entrance to I-70 East, but from the opposite side. That big semi, with all the other trucks, and God knows how many more, were still sitting on the expressway waiting to move forward.
At 5 a.m., we finally made it home, utterly exhausted.
After that horrendous experience, based on my observations and perceptions, here's what I have learned about drivers:
Some auto drivers think they can outwit Mother Nature as they exceed the speed limit and flick off those of us who appreciate the effects of ice on the road.
And truckers? I think the ones we saw that day enjoyed endangering the lives of EVERYBODY on the roadway as they played their stupid games with those of us in smaller vehicles, and we were in an SUV!
Those truckers have vacated their position on that I-70 cloverleaf, but I genuinely hope they enjoyed their stay at the Holiday Inn Expressway.
If you would like to read more from this author, look at the upper right hand side of this blog.
Thank you for visiting!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
She's Having His Baby
I wanted Nolan, who is one of my grandsons, to know that he now had a new cousin. "Remember your cousin, Amanda, had a baby in her tummy, just like your mommy has a baby in her tummy?"
"Yeah," three-year-old Nolan responded.
"Well, today Amanda had her baby, so your cousin, Baby Billy, now has a baby brother."
Nolan pouted.
"Aren't you happy that you have a new cousin?" I asked him.
Nolan lowered his head and looked up at me with puppy dog eyes. "I thought he was going to be ours." (Nolan's mommy, my daughter, is not due to give birth until September.)
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writer of Blogs
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Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
Thank you for visiting!
Monday, February 14, 2011
Hey, Ladies Have I Got Something To Show You
Early in my cancer treatments, on one of those rare occasions when I actually wore a wig (rather than hats or scarves), I met my mother and two of my daughters (Brittney and Lindsey) at The Olive Garden for lunch. After lunch we decided to spend more time at Orland Square Mall.
As we walked through the mall, a guy whose kiosk was located in the middle of the mall, invited us to examine a brand new hair straightening (flatiron) product.
Promising that it was better than any product we'd ever seen, he asked us if he could demonstrate on us. Because my daughters, my mother, and I rarely get a chance to be together, we weren't about to take what precious time we had together and share it with a stranger, so we politely excused ourselves from the insistent little man.
After we got a few steps away, we laughed about how we SHOULD have handled the situation. Having read the literature on the wig I was wearing, I suggested that maybe I should have allowed the guy to demonstrate on me and then, when the wig disintegrated on his flatiron, I could have sued him for damages. We imagined the look on his face as my wig melted away his promise.
Lindsey topped my comment though, when she said, "Or you could have just taken it off and handed it to him."
Hey, Sir, have I got something to show you!
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writer of Blogs
Paranormal Minds
Product Favorites
Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
Thank you for visiting!
As we walked through the mall, a guy whose kiosk was located in the middle of the mall, invited us to examine a brand new hair straightening (flatiron) product.
Promising that it was better than any product we'd ever seen, he asked us if he could demonstrate on us. Because my daughters, my mother, and I rarely get a chance to be together, we weren't about to take what precious time we had together and share it with a stranger, so we politely excused ourselves from the insistent little man.
After we got a few steps away, we laughed about how we SHOULD have handled the situation. Having read the literature on the wig I was wearing, I suggested that maybe I should have allowed the guy to demonstrate on me and then, when the wig disintegrated on his flatiron, I could have sued him for damages. We imagined the look on his face as my wig melted away his promise.
Lindsey topped my comment though, when she said, "Or you could have just taken it off and handed it to him."
Hey, Sir, have I got something to show you!
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writer of Blogs
Paranormal Minds
Product Favorites
Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
Thank you for visiting!
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Home Sweet Home – Where Is Mine?
Maybe it's because I live in Illinois where the weather is either too hot, too cold, too wet, too dry, or too humid.
As a child, after I learned that California was located BY THE OCEAN, my goal was to move there. Growing up, I used to look across the field in front of my house and wonder, taking into account the curve of the land, how much closer to California I would be if, instead of looking westward at the furthest western point in the sky where the sky touched the ground, I was directly under that point looking up. How many times would I have to do that in order to be in California?
When my son and his family lived in San Diego, I couldn't help but think of how amazing it would be to live in perfect climate all of the time. Yes, I would miss the change of seasons, but I could come back for that. And YES I would miss my family, so I would have to make enough money for all of them to live near me. But I can't deny the draw westward.
At one time I actually LIVED in Del Mar – for a week – until I realized I would need a car to get around. I didn't have a car, so I didn't last beyond that one week, but I loved being so close to the ocean.
Just for kicks I decided to check out the Del Mar real estate market update on the Capitola web site. That's where I found the photo that accompanies this blog. If only I had had a car back then.
I also decided to check out the Anaheim Hills real estate market in case I want to move closer to Hollywood. Who knows how many people will LOVE my movie once it's made? Hey, it could happen!
Anyway, I remember walks along the waterfront. I remember feeling enchanted and peaceful. If I close my eyes, I can imagine myself living as a successful screenwriter with the ocean clearly visible from my kitchen window, from my living room window, from my bedroom window, from my porch (I should stop before the daydream takes over my life). Yes, being near water would feel like home.
My son and his family are now living in Virginia, hoping to one day return to California. I'm hoping my screenplay, which I am now writing with another writer (name to be disclosed at a future date), will allow me to own a home in sunny CA. My daydream seeps into my night dreams, always in the background.
But what's a daydream without visuals? Capitola is a fun site to view, because it offers so much information about living in California. Capitola is not far from New Brighton State Beach between Opal Cliffs and Seacliff on the western edge of California – so near the ocean.
Capitola offers relocation information, too. I think, when I enter the movie industry, I'm going to need to be a little closer to Hollywood, but not so close I can't escape to the ocean. Hopefully I'll be able to make enough money to afford two residences – California for eight months out of the year; Illinois for four.
One more thing before I close this blog, a nice little discovery I made at Capitola (the agent home finder site I am talking about in this blog), is a huge glossary of real estate terms for potential buyers who are interested in learning real estate terms like ARM (Adjustable-Rate Mortgage), Latent Defect ("Unknown property defect not readily apparent to the buyer, but may surface later."), PMI (Private Mortgage Insurance), and so many more.
California continues to beckon me. Some day, I respond. Some day.
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writer of Blogs
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Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
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Thank you for visiting!
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
In Search of The Itsy Bitsy Baby
Lots of kids treasure certain possessions, like dolls or blankets – items that have to go everywhere the child goes. Sometimes it's a pacifier, sometimes a stuffed animal, or sometimes a cloth diaper.
In the case of my younger sister, Cindy, it was a doll that was so small, it measured no bigger than a thumb nail.
I can still see my mother tearing through bed sheets, pulling apart couches, dragging furniture across the floor, and emptying out the garbage can every time Cindy lost what she referred to as her "itsy bitsy baby."
"My itsy bitsy baby! My itsy bitsy baby! I can't find my itsy bitsy baby!"
As her slightly older sibling, I had to wonder, "What kind of mother loses her itsy bitsy baby?" I knew where MY dolls were (rolls eyes).
Imagine rushing to the car for a long awaited family excursion. You get the kids dressed, you make sure you have enough diapers, you've packed all necessary clothing for everybody, you packed the bottles and the ointments – check, check, double check! Oh, wait! You forgot the thumb nail.
My sister, Kathy, was much easier to care for. She held her hair in one hand, deftly twirled it with her other hand, and sucked her thumb at the same time. Her beloved hair stayed on her head. Nobody had to spend hours and hours looking for it!
Not so with Cindy. Every time Cindy lost her itsy bitsy baby, we lost precious hours as we ransacked the house in search of it. I'm sure my mother might have installed a tiny microchip in the itsy bitsy baby's microscopic chewed up hands and toes if we had had GPS technology back then.
Having no way of tracking Cindy's itsy bitsy baby, though, we often crawled across the floor in search of the missing doll, swearing at Cindy in our heads (never out loud) until we found the insect-sized doll.
Once Cindy lost it and we couldn't find it anywhere. Mom tried to find a replacement in a gum ball machine. It looked ALMOST exactly like Cindy's itsy bitsy baby. But Cindy knew it wasn't HER itsy bitsy baby and complained loudly to Mom that she didn't want just ANY baby – she wanted HER baby – you know, the one with the chewed up fingers and toes.
As you might expect, as we fast forward 50 years, Cindy now chews her husband's toes.
(Kidding – about the last sentence. I love you, Cindy. Thanks for the memory and for the blog material.)
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writer of Blogs
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Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
Thank you for visiting!
In the case of my younger sister, Cindy, it was a doll that was so small, it measured no bigger than a thumb nail.
I can still see my mother tearing through bed sheets, pulling apart couches, dragging furniture across the floor, and emptying out the garbage can every time Cindy lost what she referred to as her "itsy bitsy baby."
"My itsy bitsy baby! My itsy bitsy baby! I can't find my itsy bitsy baby!"
As her slightly older sibling, I had to wonder, "What kind of mother loses her itsy bitsy baby?" I knew where MY dolls were (rolls eyes).
Imagine rushing to the car for a long awaited family excursion. You get the kids dressed, you make sure you have enough diapers, you've packed all necessary clothing for everybody, you packed the bottles and the ointments – check, check, double check! Oh, wait! You forgot the thumb nail.
My sister, Kathy, was much easier to care for. She held her hair in one hand, deftly twirled it with her other hand, and sucked her thumb at the same time. Her beloved hair stayed on her head. Nobody had to spend hours and hours looking for it!
Not so with Cindy. Every time Cindy lost her itsy bitsy baby, we lost precious hours as we ransacked the house in search of it. I'm sure my mother might have installed a tiny microchip in the itsy bitsy baby's microscopic chewed up hands and toes if we had had GPS technology back then.
Having no way of tracking Cindy's itsy bitsy baby, though, we often crawled across the floor in search of the missing doll, swearing at Cindy in our heads (never out loud) until we found the insect-sized doll.
Once Cindy lost it and we couldn't find it anywhere. Mom tried to find a replacement in a gum ball machine. It looked ALMOST exactly like Cindy's itsy bitsy baby. But Cindy knew it wasn't HER itsy bitsy baby and complained loudly to Mom that she didn't want just ANY baby – she wanted HER baby – you know, the one with the chewed up fingers and toes.
As you might expect, as we fast forward 50 years, Cindy now chews her husband's toes.
(Kidding – about the last sentence. I love you, Cindy. Thanks for the memory and for the blog material.)
If you would like to read more from this author, click any of the following links:
Your Weird Dreams
Your Blog Connection
Help For Single Parents
My Heart Blogs To You
Writer of Blogs
Paranormal Minds
Product Favorites
Theresa Wiza's Blog
My Associated Content Articles
My Xomba Articles
Thank you for visiting!
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