I blogged the other day about the decals we have on the windows to help the birds avoid striking the glass. There’s a grove of trees to the north of the house, and their reflection in the windows lures the birds into thinking there is an escape route where there is actually window. I’m sure one of the hawks has learned to use the windows to his advantage when hunting near our feeder.
I was mistaken about the source of our decals. A friend gave two sample packages to Dear Husband, and it turns out they were being distributed by the Morton Arboretum, in the western suburbs of Chicago. The good news is, I kept the packaging, so I can share the manufacturer!
2004 Window Alert by Schock Associates, Inc.
P. O. Box 1609
Bend OR 97709
800-733-2753
Info@WindowAlert.com
There ya go. The product has worked for me. You peel the leaf shape off the backing paper and apply the side that was to the paper to the outside of a clean window. Couldn’t be any easier, and it works. I’ll have to do an update to let you know how it fares during the winter.
Now, go forth and save some birds!

Joy, of The Joy of Six, and I have met, through the auspices of Ronni, at Time Goes By. We haven’t actually met face to face, but that could happen. Joy and I both live in suburban Chicago.
Joy blogged today about the one year anniversary of her husband’s death, and I encourage you to go read what she had to say.
Just after reading her blog, I found the message below in my mail. It seemed serendipitous, and worth posting.

Continue reading →

On the way to exercise this morning we saw a great blue heron in the conservancy area. I thought we were past the season for herons and egrets, so it was a surprise to see him fishing.
It’s a grey day, lots of clouds and no sunshine, and it’s a bit on the chilly side.
I had intended to cut down spent plants yesterday, and I should have. I’ll have to wait until tomorrow or Wednesday to get into the gardens. It rained this morning, but I think the rain has moved off.
We’ve been waiting for this weekend. It’s time for the annual birdseed sale. On our way home from Indiana two weeks ago, we picked up the black oil sunflower seed. Now we’ll be looking for the seed that draws the woodpeckers, cardinals, and blue jays. We’d like to encourage the juncos, the nuthatches and the chickadees, too. Cop Car says we have an overabundance of sparrows and house finches. They are pushy at the feeder, so everyone has to fight to get to the seed.
As soon as the raccoons go into hibernation, we’ll start filling the silo feeders with chipped sunflower hearts. Until the raccoons snooze, there’s no point in putting out the silos because they climb the crook that holds the silo and bring everything down.
After the windows have been washed, I plan to put up more of the translucent “leaves” that came from the Nature Conservancy. They help the birds to realize that they are flying toward windows, rather than open space.
One of our contractors shared them with Dear Husband, and they’ve been a great gift.

The class lived through another day of my leadership at exercise. All but one of the songs that we work to went well. The cardio song is a medley of Four Seasons hits. It goes on forever, and the changes and steps are difficult. Inevitably, I get lost somewhere along the way and we march and pump our arms a lot.
Dragon Lady has a lot of faith to leave her class in my hands. I may make some changes to the routine before Wednesday to see if we can’t get through the session with fewer pauses to laugh. *G*

The following story came to me via e-mail this week. Unfortunately, there was no credit given for the creation of the post. If you know the writer, I’d be most happy to give credit where credit is due.
As you know, my mother, who will be 90 in about six weeks, lives with us. I am accustomed to her response to matters of this sort. I think I may share this with her and encourage her to follow suit. *G*
Subject: Getting Even with the Bank
Sometimes killing them with kindness is the best approach! I’m sure we have had our share of these about our call centers…
A 98 year old woman wrote this to her bank. The bank manager thought it
amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month.
By my calculations, three ‘nanoseconds’ must have elapsed between his presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my Social Security check, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years.
You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank.
My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways.
I noticed that whereas I personally attend to your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.
From now on, I, like you, choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan payments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate.
Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact Status which I require your chosen employee to complete.
I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative.
Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she
must quote in dealings with me.
I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further. When you call me, press buttons as follows:
1– To make an appointment to see me.
2– To query a missing payment.
3– To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
4– To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
5– To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
6– To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home.
7– To leave a message on my computer (a password to access my computer is required. A password will be communicated to you at a later date to the
Authorized Contact.)
8– To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
9– To make a general complaint or inquiry, the contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.
While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait uplifting music will play for the duration of the call.
Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous, New Year.
Your Humble Client
(Remember: This was written by a 98 year old woman)
JUST GOTTA LOVE SENIORS

I never know when to believe Dear Husband.
This spring I ordered several cubic yards of mulch. It was delivered when I wasn’t at home, and the truck apparently couldn’t maneuver into position to drop the load where the previous pile had been. Instead, it now occupies about half of one of the arms of the driveway that DH uses to make a three-point turn. During the summer this isn’t so critical, but I suspect that it will cause some problems in the winter when things are slick.
I can see the pile when I’m at the kitchen sink, so I frequently think about it. I was thinking that DH and I could start working on moving the pile when he gets home from work. I can spread some of the mulch, but the rest will have to be shifted about six or eight feet.
I mentioned my thoughts to DH, and he sat, thinking, for a bit. Then he said that it was a better plan to wait for the pile to freeze solid and push it to the new position with the tractor. I hadn’t thought of it. It sounded a lot better than the exercise I was planning.
Unfortunately, Dear Husband let me absorb the idea before telling me that he was just kidding. I guess it’s pitch forks at 4:00 p.m. for us.

I don’t think I blogged about it, but I’ve been asked to lead two more exercise classes. I’m amazed, just amazed.
I’m the least physically fit of the class. All but one of the class is older, and in better shape. I’m not talking about a week or two older, I’m talking about people in their seventies and eighties! These ladies and gentlemen are my role models. They recognize that regular exercise is important to good health, and they make it to class three mornings a week.
I’ve been chosen to lead the class because I have experience teaching, not because I’m the best example. As many days as I’ve done the routines, I still don’t feel capable of calling off the exercises smoothly. I was worried about forgetting the order of exercise, so I made “cheat sheets” the first time I led class. When we were done, I tossed them into the back of the car. WRONG! I should have taken better care, because now, I have to re-do them. That’s okay, though, because it will give me a chance to review.
I was so absorbed in calling out the sequences of exercise last time that the class could have slipped out the door one by one and I would have never missed them. I’m not prepared to face the class and move right when I tell them to go left. Instead, I joined the front line with my back to the class.
I suspect that the two class clowns will try to lead the class astray before my time as an “apprentice guru” is up, but I have a plan. We have mirrors on three sides of the exercise floor. Normally, I’d be able to see the class, but my notes were on an easel that obstructed my view. This time, I’m going to tape them to the top of the mirrors, so that I can see the class, and still follow the notes.
Even with experience I’ll never be a natural leader when it comes to exercise. I’ll improve, but I’ll never be the leader our Dragon Lady guru is. It tickles me though, that alternate exercises have begun popping into my head. I think we’ll use the ballet barre on Monday! *G*

Constancy. Gumption. Stick-to-it-iveness. Those words were in my prayers this morning. Dear Lord, please help me stay the course, whether it’s getting my filing done, or avoiding the Halloween candy. I could have added cleaning the basement or exercise.
I need to plumb my depths and find the ability to stay with my long-term goals.
Serenity would be another good word to add to my prayers. I hope staying the course will bring me serenity, not because of the accomplishment of goals, but for knowing that I CAN go the distance.
I suppose that it would be too much to ask for a personal commitment trainer for Christmas……and a housekeeper, huh? *G*

I can’t believe that it’s been a week since I last posted! You can tell that family takes priority to blogging in this household. So did gardening.
Thursday, the day of his birthday, I cooked a favorite meal for Dear Husband. We spent the evening at home because we planned to go out with the kids on Sunday.
My youngest sister, Frankie, of Just My Opinion, (I know…she’s been absent during marching band season), drove up from her home in Indiana on Friday, and we spent a pleasant evening together.
Saturday, my two older sisters joined us, and we created the picture boards for Elegante Mother’s 90th birthday party. Frankie is working on an archival scrapbook that is simply amazing. We plan to have the entire scrapbook duplicated for each of the siblings, so we have the pictures and memories.
Pizza for dinner….no one had the umpf to cook.
Thank goodness for Daylight Savings! We had an extra hour of sleep Saturday night, and I needed it!
Sunday morning I was awake about 6:30. Frankie had been up for more than an hour, working on the layouts for the memory book. I cleaned the kitchen, put things in their proper places, ironed two table clothes, did the dishes, did laundry, and ousted Dear Husband from the bed so I could make it.
At 11:30, I was encouraging a general exodus to the cars. My step-daughter was planning to drop off food for the party as soon as we left the house. I was afraid that we would run into her coming up the drive if we didn’t hurry, so I looked like a traffic cop, waiving people toward the cars.
We had a lovely meal at Dear Husband’s current favorite Italian place. We had the chance to catch up on the kid’s lives, and visit with our granddaughter. Frankie and Elegante Mother talked about journaling to save our memories for those who follow. I so wish we had started EM journaling sooner!
Frankie left for home after lunch, and one of Dear Husband’s sons had another obligation. The rest of us returned to our house. The guys settled in to watch the Bears game. When the doorbell rang, we sent DH to answer it. Bogie….I think he WAS surprised. Co-workers, friends, and family all showed up. Although I had said “No gifts, please,” when we invited them, almost everyone brought a gift. Most of the gifts from his friends at work were gag gifts, but they were just right. There were enough people to fill the kitchen and living room, and a few spilled over to the “green room” just off the kitchen. I’m delighted that so many were able to make it.
My step-daughter did a spectacular job with “nibbles” for our guests. We have two pies and a cake, and two

Last Friday, on my way to exercise, I saw one last heron in the redesigned conservation area at the end of my road.
I thought that all the herons and egrets had made the trek home, but here was one last tall, dark, elegant bird, looking for his breakfast.
I love my cardinals, and the junkos, and chickadees, and blue jays, but I’ll be waiting for the return of the herons and egrets.