…that someone clearly loved. When we moved to this area of the suburbs, we found a route off the beaten path to get out to more traveled roads. And toward the end of this route there was a wonderful, old-fashioned house with green shutters, and mature trees, and a family of ceramic deer in the center of the lawn.
The yard was always faultlessly maintained. The house looked as though it had been painted fairly recently, and the gutters and roof had been maintained. I suspect that the house had been in place for a number of years when a correctional facility was plunked down across from it. That didn’t keep the owners from giving their home loving care. I suspect the facility wasn’t a bad neighbor except for an abundance of lights at night.
Two, or perhaps three years ago, the house took on an abandoned look. We speculated on the situation. Perhaps one of the owners had passed away, or needed to move to assisted living, and the house was too much for the remaining owner to manage. Perhaps a woman had been living there for years with her children to help with the gardening, and now, she couldn’t maintain the grounds.
For whatever reason, the house was put on the market, where it languished. The lawn wasn’t mowed frequently enough, and no one trimmed around the feet of the family of deer. It became shabby, as those things lacking attention do. One of the tree trunks broke off and a huge portion of it crashed through the roof of an outbuilding.
This week as we passed by, the change was glaring. All but two of the old trees had been cut down and turned into a pile of mulch. The evergreens that had lined a sweeping driveway were gone. Landscaping around the house had been ripped out. The house looks naked, and unprotected. It looks as though it’s waiting it’s final sentence.
That’s when I realized that the fire department is going to be allowed to burn it to the ground. It makes my heart ache to think of all the memories that house has held going up in smoke. I’m sure that the family has had to make the decision to raze the home because they can’t afford the annual property taxes, and couldn’t sell it.
I hate that our government forces people into decisions like this because of the property tax laws. I haven’t worked my way through a solution to this situation, but it’s one more reason we need to alter how we finance our schools. The current plan is inequitable both to homeowners AND students! It won’t be long before the middle class can’t afford to support our government, as it is. It’s possible we have already reached that point. Certainly, the owners of this house have said, “I give!”
I know that we’ll be passing that lot in our travels in the coming weeks, and despite knowing what’s likely to happen, I won’t be prepared to see the hole in the ground where the house once sat. It was a good house, and I’ll remember it.

I had a WONDERFUL BIRTHDAY!!
I had birthday wishes come my way in every conceivable manner: in person, by snail mail, by e-mail, by phone, and by blogs! I was greeted and encouraged all day long, and it was really lovely
IT started with a short note from my youngest sister that ended with
“H A P P Y B I R T H D A Y!” I was almost ready to leave for exercise when the phone rang. It was Nan, and her 9th grade Romeo and Juliet class, and they sang “Happy Birthday” to me over the phone. I really wish I had been where I could have recorded it! *G*
At exercise, the class fussed over me because I’m one of two ladies who have been the babies of the class for years. The other woman stole my position as the youngest of the class when she joined a few years ago. Her sixtieth birthday comes in just a few days. One of the women gave me chocolate, and a card that played the Chicken Dance. (grins)
I didn’t realize I had talked with the class about the Chicken Dance. I had never seen it until Dear Husband took me to an Oktoberfest a while ago, and the women all got up to dance this strange dance! I understand that it is frequently played at wedding receptions, but somehow I had missed it. I’d join in on the fun, but partway through the first refrain I start laughing, and then I loose it.
I worked a little in the office, and took the time to get cleaned up in mid-afternoon. One of my nieces has been visiting with Elegante Mother once a week so that DH and I can go out. I wanted to be ready to go early so that we wouldn’t keep her too late on a work night.
I was dressing when DH came in and brought me a HUGE birthday card. I was a little disappointed that it wasn’t one of his hand made cards, but I was glad that he had remembered my birthday. I opened the card, expecting a big, mushy card, and it’s an over-sized version of THE CHICKEN DANCE!! (The card says I should celebrate “accordion-ly.”) I can tell that my sixties will be memorable! *G*
We went to dinner at the Front Street Cantina. DH offered to take me to one of the ritzy steak houses in the area, and God knows there are enough to choose from, but that sounded too heavy to me. I vetoed our usual trip to Pappadeaux, asking if we could do brunch when the boating season is over. Instead, we had an inexpensive meal that we both enjoyed, and a relaxed evening. I treated DH to an ice cream cone on the way home, to end my celebration.
I visit the Star Tribune Crossword Corner blog each day, after I’ve done the Chicago Tribune crossword on-line. The people who post there have become friends, and they were very positive about the pluses of turning 60. It was nice to be among so many people who believe that aging only means “getting better.”
I had a great day. I don’t need major celebrations to have fun. Visiting with friends and family is enough, and you all came through to make my day memorable!
THANKS!

I don’t usually blurt out things like this. I actually try to maintain SOME modesty, now and then. But A Momentous Occasion is rushing toward me, and I find I need to comment on it.
On Wednesday, I will turn sixty years old. There…..I said it. I’m not upset by this; it’s more a case of wondering just what “sixty” is. Despite the aches and pains, and working a little slower than I used to, my brain still thinks I’m in my thirties
I don’t sleep quite as well as I used to, well, at night at any rate. I carry more weight than I should, and I creak and ache a bit more than I did when I was thirty, but my brain seems to think there haven’t been any changes. Until this summer, I used to find myself out on my hands and knees gardening for hours at a time. Or, I’d work all day long, and then spend the evenings looking for more things to do, like laundry or dishes, or quilting. It would be safe to say that I don’t work at full tilt for 16 hours a day any longer.
I’ve made a few changes. I wear more comfortable clothes and I buy UGLY SHOES. Of course, I buy those ugly shoes because I want shoes that are comfortable. I’ve given up heels completely, and I look for great arch support. Foot care has become really important.
I have begun eating oatmeal each morning. I add cinnamon and a little brown sugar, but at 5:30 in the morning I need a little incentive to have breakfast. I realize that the cinnamon I have in the house may not be the variety which has the health benefits, so I plan to do a little research to find the proper product, and then I will be doing TWO good things at one time.
I have gotten to the point where I can get up between 5:00 and 5:30 without being rousted out of bed. I like early morning when the house is quiet, and I can get the day started without having to talk to anyone other than Dear Husband, who is a fairly quiet person all day long.
I need to work on being in bed at 9:00, learning how to tape programs that air at 8:30 or in the evening, and reorganizing my going to bed ritual so that it’s all accomplished before lights out has passed. Moisturizing has become a MUCH more important part of my life, and I’m not very good about it. (Thank you, Nan, for the lovely incentive! *S*)
Probably the biggest change over the past decade is my focus on family. They may not be aware that anything has changed, but I’m trying to find ways to let my family know that I think about them and love them. I’m aware the passing of time, and with each day, those days I have left to spend with family become more precious.
So…what’s sixty? Darned if I know, but I plan to jump in with both feet, and meet it running! *S*

Do you do crossword puzzles? I used to do them all the time, and then I slowly set them aside when I became addicted to quilting. I resumed doing the puzzle in the Chicago Tribune earlier this year, on-line. There are times when I have a few extra minutes, and I pick up a book of New York Times puzzles and try to wade through one.
Why is it that the first time you work a tough puzzle, you can stare at the blanks and not get a thing, and when you walk away in frustration and come back later, answers fall into place with ease?? I frequently feel that “Duh!” response, when the answers are obvious and generally easy. Is it just that I’m working against myself, expecting the answers to be a lot harder?
I’m VERY glad that I took Latin. It amazes me how many times an answer to a clue will be a Latin word. Many times, I can guess the answer to a Spanish, or Italian word because it’s related to Latin.
It’s odd, but I find that the vertical clues are easier. You’d think that seeing the boxes in a pattern other than our usual left to right, would make it more difficult. I tend to fly through the puzzle starting from the upper left (Northwest) corner, and answer as many of the horizontal clues as I can. Then I make a run through the vertical clues. More than half of the answers will fall into place on the vertical clues. The hardest clues for me are those that pertain to the young stars who are likely to be found on the pages of “People” magazine. I admit it…..I’m an old fogy.
Years ago, the editors of the puzzles provided information concerning how many words made up the answer. Now, they limit their advice to “var.” (variation) or different ways of indicating that the answer is an abbreviation.
Today, one of the answers was “music.” In another life, I was a band director, so you might expect me to find all the music clues easy. WRONG!! I over-think the clues, and they are often the last clues I answer. I dread having someone assume that I will get all the music questions. In fact, I can usually guarantee that I’ll miss anything that took place between 1975 and 1990, and a lot of the more recent stuff, too. I’ve got COOKING terms down, though! lol

How often do you say “Thank you”? How often do you hear someone say “Thank you” to you?
I don’t think I say “Thank you” enough. I certainly think it. I’m behind in my written thank you notes, but I’m getting them done. Still, I think I could take the time to let people know that I really appreciate what they do for me. It bothers me that personal notes are going the way of the dinosaur. My youngest sister writes exceptional notes, and I love to get them from her, but I’m very bad about writing back to her. I send her a lot of e-mails, not just the forwarded type, but also short thoughts and responses to her e-mails, and I talk to her on the phone, but I don’t make the time to write personal notes.
I’ve been pondering this as I reach a point in my life where contact with family and friends is more important. I need to shape up (in more ways than one), get my act together, and take this show on the road. I need to stop saying “I need to…” and “Just DO it!” And I haven’t a clue how to make these life changes.
I think I’ll start by telling people “Thank you” more often.
For those of you who have come to read this blog, Thanks! It’s nice of you to stop by, *S*

“I Like Ike!” was a refrain from the election pitting Dwight D. Eisenhower against Adlai Stevenson in the early 1950’s I was a child, but I recall the campaign buttons.
I’m not so sure how I feel about our recent visitor, Ike, the hurricane. The Midwest had an extended line of showers crossing from west to east, and Ike rolled up through Texas, steamrolled over Oklahoma and Kansas and Missouri and attached himself to that line of showers. The forecasters were predicting three inches of rain over a three day period. That’s a lot of rain, but manageable. In reality, O’Hare Airport measured 12.61 inches of rain by early evening on Sunday. Parts of Chicago and the surrounding counties have been hit hard, and farmers are saying that the corn and soybean crops may be damaged. We were fortunate. We’re high and dry, and still have all our utilities.
I went out Sunday morning to collect the newspapers. We have a fairly long driveway, and it was pouring out, so I took the car. While I was down at the end of the road, I stopped to collect Saturday’s mail, too. As our road goes to the east, it passes between two retention ponds, and the road crews had put up barricades to warn drivers of water on the pavement. The ponds were so full that they overflowed their bounds and met on the road. You could get through, if you went very slowly. The barricades were set up so that you had to slalom to the left. and then again to the right. Apparently everyone got the idea that you had to slow down, because there were no cars stranded in the water.
It rained almost non-stop from Friday morning to Sunday evening. It was still sprinkling Monday morning as we went off to exercise, enough to need window wipers, but not enough to keep the standing water from slowing draining off.
The record rain for my area was 17 inches in 24 hours. I can recall pictures of people canoing or rowing from house to house looking for people who needed help. What amazed me was that people would walk in the water without regard to raw sewage or downed electrical lines. What happens to people’s brains when we have unusual weather!?? Our underpasses were closed for a couple of weeks with that storm. I think we’ll clean things up faster with this one, but it will take a lot of work to bring some areas back to where they were before the storms.