At some point the hate has to stop

 I finished reading The Railway Man by Eric Lomax.  Fifty years after the war, he met one of the men who was involved in the torturing of Eric and some of his comrades.  The man was actually the interpreter but he was full of remorse and diligently sought forgiveness from as many POWs that he could find.  He thought Lomax was long dead and very relieved to find him alive and well.  Lomax did forgive but said he could never forget.  He told his wife later, "At some point the hate has to stop."  He had carried that hate and longing for revenge for years.

I especially enjoyed one story of their reunion.  The initial reason Lomax and his comrades were tortured because as POWs they were found with a radio receiver they had constructed and kept hidden.  They were taken away and forced to endure several occasions of various forms of torture.  After 50 years, Lomax and the interpreter were walking through a sacred temple in Japan and the interpreter asked Lomax when he had learned of the first bomb dropping on Japan.  Lomax replied August 8th.  The interpreter was amazed. He said "How did you, a prisoner find out 2 days before his troop a part of t he actual Japanese military?"  Lomax said "We had a radio."  And that set them off into bursts of uncontrollable giggles and laughter in the sacred temple and earned them some curious looks from their wives. 

The body is amazing at its healing of wounds and sickness.  But the mind can accomplish wonders and miracles of its own.  With time.  From the Merriam Webster dictionary:  time:  a nonspatial continuum that is measured in terms of events which succeed one another from past through present to future.

Investigations

 Lots of investigating going on concerning Camp Mystic in Texas and the horrible flood back in July 2025. Some of the articles I read just astonished me.  I had no idea.  Talks of the young counsellors having no training or information on what to do.  Some of the administration took their own children and ran for higher ground not helping others or trying to warn them.  No disaster planning had been documented or even talked about.  The water would sometimes surround one cabin area cutting it off from the rest of the camp and the folks would love it as they didn't have to do anything, and they would get their food delivered to them until the waters receded. I read that this happened almost each year and yet nobody thought perhaps they should have more of a plan in place in case it became more serious.  And it did.

I Can't Deny It

 Since my daughter broke her ankle I've been (mostly) driving her back and forth to work.  She had just started this new job (actually she broke her ankle on a Sunday and was to start working on that Monday).  

One way is 30 miles.  I drive her there and I come back home (that is 60 miles).  Then I go back in the late afternoon to pick her up (another 60 miles).  120 miles a day.  I've done all but about five trips.  That is about 5,000 miles.

I used to read on website that had a subject about horrible drivers.  Most people on the site showed videos, others just told a story or experience.  

There is something about people who drive white trucks.  I read so many stories, saw so many videos.  I can honestly say after driving interstate for 5,000 miles the past couple of months - it is insanely true. My daughter believes it is because most employees of gas and oil well companies drive white pickup trucks.  Perhaps they don't care because it is a company truck?  idk, but they are insanely rude and horrible drivers.

Torture of a POW

 I'm finding I have to read this book in small increments.  The torture description gets to me.  At one point the author said "...in my twenties."  Which made me think of my 20's.  I was carefree, healthy, working, socializing, relating - all those things.  He was being tortured during his 2nd decade of life.

I am about halfway through the book.

I need to start reading another book - much lighter fare.  Fare doesn't seem like the correct word.  A lighter subject matter.  Something to take my mind off the serious abhorrent story of this man's ordeal.

I have not seen the movie.  It stars Colin Firth as the older Eric and Jeremy Irvine is the younger.  Nicole Kidman is in the movie.  Not a fan of Nicole or Colin and I never heard of Jeremy. Ah, he was the main character in War Horse but I don't remember the movie much.

The Japanese torturer who was the interpreter tracks down some of the POWs in an effort to receive forgiveness. This was filmed in a documentary titled "Enemy, my friend".  I may try to find that documentary and watch it.  Ah, it's on YouTube.  I may watch it tomorrow.

My Big Purchase

 I had a visit Thursday with brother 1942, sister 1944 and her husband (same  year) and sister 1949.  We all went to lunch and did a quick stop at a Marc's store (a discount-drug, grocery and various other household/pet items).

My big purchase was the above red whisk.  I was making something (on Wednesday I think) and my whisk fell apart.  Well, it fell apart when I washed it.  Two of the wires just sprung right out of the handle.  It was silicone coated. This one is all silicone.  I didn't have a red one so that's what I got.  I have stainless steel, black and teal.  And now I have a red one. This is a smaller one.  I even have a wee little one (the teal one) about the length of the palm of my hand. Needless to say I don't use that one much but I have used it (I think).

I really like this time of year.  We have several festivals that happen late September and October.  The leaves begin to change color and the weather begins to cool down.  I stopped going to festivals for a while because I just didn't want to be tempted to buy more stuff.  I have SO much stuff as it is.  Of course I would say "Oh, I'm just going to look."  Yeah, right.

We are headed to WVA to see relatives mid October.  My Mom always liked to travel that way in October because of the leaves. WVA has beautiful hills full of trees.  And, it is cooler.  I certainly don't want to go in August.  Get in and out of a car in the heat and stop at little shops we find along the way that look interesting but we don't really want to get out of the A/C.

My niece (the one that lived with us for about 5 years) brought me a few tomatoes.  I'm the only one who eats them (in my house).  Well, my daughter doesn't and her husband might, but I don't give him the chance. LOL!  The tomatoes are MINE....all mine!....my precious!  Yes, it's like that.  Our town is close to Amish country and there are several farmers markets.  The tomatoes are hard as brick.  The sellers (usually Amish) get up early and go north somewhere to the big farmers markets, and then bring the produce to our smaller community to resell.  I quit going to them. 

I may have found somebody that sells out of their home garden.  I'll go there tomorrow to see if they have any 'maters.  They have lots of pumpkins, I can see that (advertisement on Facebook). 

As most of you know, my daughter broke her ankle.  She was to start a new job the next day but they held it for her for 30 days.  She started end of July but somebody needed to drive her there and pick her up. The job is 30 miles away (one way).  As of today I've driven the route 69 times.  (That would be about 35 round trips).  Sometimes her husband takes her but he can't pick her up as he works until 8 p.m.   Once we had her Father in law pick her up while I went to a dinner. 

We were coming home today and bam - traffic stopped.  As far as I could see all the traffic was stopped in both lanes heading south.  I immediately jumped off at the exit and drove home that way (takes about 10 minutes longer).  As our exit ramp circled around and above the Interstate my daughter exclaimed "Oh my God - the traffic is stopped clear to the horizon"  I said 'Yep, that's why I jumped off.'   This is the fourth time I would have been stopped in traffic since I started driving her.  All accidents.  Some looked horrible.  

You gotta give the people what they want

 My SIL (daughter's husband) sings in a band.  Recently he has had several requests for a Dolly song. He gives them Jolene.  Does a damn fine job of it, too!   LOL!

Mid-range Hoarder

 

1.  Glass jars - keep almost all of them, use once or twice then recycle

2.  Egg cartons - save for my sister who has chickens

3.  Citrus Peels - Never keep, toss

4.  Cardboard boxes - I have a mountain of cardboard boxes, threatening to swallow my house

5.  Old towels - use towels until they disappear in the dryer and come apart in the lint trap

6.  Bread bags - used to keep them, now toss them

7.  Old toothbrushes - hell, no. I toss them

8. Tin cans, hell no - toss.

9.  newspaper - keep some for repotting plants, toss  (need to recycle more)

10.  Rubber bands, don't use them, don't have them.

11.  Takeaway containers - wash the very sturdy ones and reuse once or twice then toss

12.  odd socks - don't really have any

13.  shower curtains - no - toss

14.  wood scraps - don't really have any

15.  plastic bottles - no , toss  (need to recycle more)

16.  candle jars - I hate candles (sensitive to smells - migraines) If I get any as gift, I toss them

17.  bubble wrap - recycle

18.  old t-shirts - see number 5 

19.  twist ties - keep some, toss some

20.  mesh produce bags - no, toss

70

 Sister 1956 turned 70 on the 9th.  Family met at a Mexican restaurant in our usual "central" town.  I don't think anybody had to drive more than an hour.  I was late as I was picking up my daughter from work (she still can't drive because of her broken ankle).  I brought the cake.  There is a cake store in our town that has been around since.....1950. I had to go look it up.  Delicious.  I had them ice it with a tie-dye theme.  I need to reach out to a sibling who took a picture of the cake.

The cake from our bakery in town is SO good I would eat it non-stop.  Well, I'd eat the icing non stop.  I refused to bring any home with me.  Daughter doesn't care for it.  Me?  I would request to be buried in the icing if I could.  Either that or a cheesecake (white chocolate raspberry) that a lady near our town makes.  She has about 20 different flavors for her cheesecakes and sells them to SO many restaurants in the area.  We are close to an Amish community and all of the restaurants (tourist attractions) carry her cakes.  A whole one is pricey but so worth it.  They are SO heavy.  One time on Facebook she posted a quick reel of her kitchen.  She had about six Kitchen-Aid mixers going all spread out on her counters.  Her husband helps her.

I stopped in at a dollar store and found a headband (crown) for her to wear.  It was close to the one shown above although hers had gold balls.  This sister does like disco balls though.  She had a big one on her patio for years.  

Brother 1957 turns 70 next year.  They are Irish twins. She was born Sept 9th 1956 and he was born Aug 13th 1957.  Not sure what to plan for him.  Still have plenty of time to plan.  

I had to miss a friend's birthday dinner tonight (I was picking up daughter at the same time as the dinner).  I gave my daughter the option of going to the dinner with me, but she wanted to get home (her work days are long and stressful).  The restaurant was about 12 minutes away.  I've been friends with this group since 1988 so we have had several get togethers.  I don't miss many.  My main excuse used to be migraines but I no longer have those.  Whew!

The Birds

 I am getting the chimney rebuilt today (or recrowned) - something like that.  I'm not very knowledgeable about chimney-related things.  We had a nest of chimney swifts and I guess the noise drove my daughter and SIL crazy.  The fireplace is in the basement so they heard it and I did not.  Until my daughter broke her ankle and I was down there more to help her out and I finally heard them.  They are noisy! And, we had one come completely down the chimney and into the basement and had a heck of a time getting that thing outside. It finally fell into a hamper with a lid and SIL carried it outside.  

When the chimney guy came about a month ago he said he just had to wait a couple of weeks and the baby birds will have left the nest and he could fix it so they would not return to building a nest there.  As we were talking I mentioned that I was planning to get a new roof sooner (or later).  

He said I needed a new crown on my chimney if I were going to do that.  So I said "Well, just put the new crown on when you come back to put the lid on (or whatever he said he was going to do).  That is scheduled for noon today.  It had to be rescheduled due to rain a few weeks ago.  Now, it looks like rain is coming in at about 3 p.m. today.  I hope it holds off so this guy can get his work done.

I will be a basket case the entire time he is up there on the roof hoping he does not fall off.  At least this time both daughter and SIL are home with me.

By the way, Alfred Hitchcock's "The Birds" traumatized me when I was young.  I watched it on TV probably at eight years old or so and it was terrifying!  I am not afraid of birds, we even had a cockatiel for a few years and I love to watch the baby robins progress in the shrub outside my kitchen back door. 

But I could not catch that bird in the basement.  I had a small blanket I was using and the fluttering of its wings just unnerved me.  Years ago we found two small dead birds in our basement.  We figured they must have flown down the chimney and one of our cats did away with them.  My daughter was not letting her husband or I harm this bird to return it to the outdoors.  It was a Friday evening and she could not help because of her broken ankle.  She was quite critical of our lack of skills at catching said bird.

For some unknown reason they had removed the screen that I kept in front of the fire place. They put it back after that ordeal.

Wrong-way Wilson

 Growing up the youngest of eight children, when I was able to drive many older siblings had me drive them places or use their car.  I was good at driving and I drove a lot.  I was able to get around (before GPS) when we used paper maps.

Several times when somebody was confused as to where to go, I seemed to be able to pick the correct direction and route.

Somewhere over the years I have lost that talent.  If it was a talent.

There was an episode on Gilligan's Island back in the 60's with a character called Wrong-way Wilson.    I might just inherit that nickname.  If there is a wrong way to choose, I choose it.

I only pull out the GPS as the last resort.  I always think I know how to get there or go home.  If it is somewhere I've been to hundreds of times, no problem. 

But, when I go somewhere new, I seem to believe I can get myself back home without having to use my GPS.  I don't know why, but I am always choosing the wrong road/turn/route.  This seemed to have started happening the past five to ten years or so.  Is it Covid, chemo or age?

Why you gotta be like that?

 In seventh grade a new teacher came to teach in our middle school.  This was her first year as a teacher.

She taught my favorite subject, reading.  It seems that one day that I was out sick (a Wednesday, I believe) she assigned students to their reading group. There were the turtles, the somethings (don't recall the animal she chose) and the rabbits (the fastest readers).

I had no idea what group she had assigned to me, so on Thursday I went up to ask her what group I was in.  I told her I was absent yesterday, Wednesday.  She snapped at me "I assigned the groups on Tuesday!"  Well, she had not or I would have known what group I was in.  I was mortified.

What to do, what to do?

My friend Kathy told me to join her in the group rabbits (the fastest).  It didn't occur to me that I was one of the fastest readers in the class and would definitely belong to the rabbits group.  The only thing I could think of was what group did the teacher assign me to?  I wanted to do the right thing.  I joined the rabbits and life continued.

What the hell would it have hurt that teachers to say "oh...you are in the such and such group."  Instead of "No, I assigned the groups on Tuesday, you were absent on Wednesday."

And she did not tell me what group I was in.

My 1st through 4th grade school had two classrooms for each class year.  The A and B.  Smarter students in A, less smart in B.  From 5th to 8th grade, we had four. Back in the early 70's they got away with putting the 'dumber' kids in the slower groups and we even had four classrooms  labeled A, B, C and D. 

 The A classroom held the smartest kids, B - second smartest, C - even slower students and then D - the students who received the lowest grades.  It was 8th grade (1973) when they just mixed us all up and put all the kids in various rooms to stop the discrimination.  That was the year we girls were finally allowed to wear pants to school.  Before that it was all dresses or skirts.  

Anyway...the teacher had us read out loud for a few days before she assigned us to our reading groups.  I would get SO bored when the slower kids would read that I would read ahead.  One time I came out of my concentrated reading and realized the student directly in front of me was reading.  I was next!  I had NO IDEA where we were in the story because I was reading so far ahead. I began to panic but fortunately I found my place before it was my turn to read.  I was so afraid the teacher and all my classmates would think that I was unable to read or was too slow at reading.  

A book by any other name, reads just as sweet

 I had fun with this.  I got all 25.  I had to think hard on number 13.  Now, how many have I actually read?  Oh dear.  Only 6 I think.  My Mom had several of the above list of books and I spent many a summer re-organizing them, perusing them and even one time I typed up the blurb on the back of several of her books on little index cards.  Before I did that, I taught myself how to type on an old black manual typewriter with a school class typing book.  I practiced with that and then typed over a hundred index cards worth of blurbs.  I wonder whatever happened to all those cards?  Ha, ha.  Who knows?

Of course this was back in the days that summers stretched out forever.  Not like today where you blink and an entire month has disappeared.  I don't know how that happens, but it happens to all of us.

Years of reading and re-reading all the titles to those books stuck with me.  

As for the typewriter, it used that messy black ribbon that wrapped around two spools and I got my fingers inky several times.  When you ran through the spool of ribbon you had to pop the two round ends out and switch them and type back over the other side.  The keys were those big long silver arms that flipped up when you pressed the key and struck the ribbon with force that left the imprint on the paper.

Years later I recall using a light blue smith corona portable typewriter and even longer after that an electric typewriter with the letter ball. (At work I used the daisy letter wheel).  

On sale

 I only purchase them when they are on sale.  Less than $3 a bottle.  And I get $50 worth minimum to get free shipping.  Then I give them away and I use them all year.

Fasting and drink lots of water

 It used to be that blood draws were a few minutes of torture for me.  They could never find a vein.  They said my veins "rolled" and "hid" from them.  It would go on and on.  I could tell in the first few seconds if the person drawing the blood was confident or afraid.  The ones who were afraid just could not get any blood out of me. I sat there getting stuck over and over while they tried this, then that and a lot of times brought in somebody else to do it.

Years later I have learned.  Either I read it or somebody told me - drink lots of water. This will plump up your veins and make it easier to get a draw.  I don't know why it took over 40 years for anybody to clue me in on this little trick.  I believe my family has dehydration issues.  My Mom was hospitalized for the condition in the early 70s and she was told to stop drinking hot tea.  I am always dehydrated. I started drinking water somewhere in the mid 00's.  For a blood draw, the fasting is okay, but not having coffee in the morning gives me a roaring headache.  (I never cared for coffee black, I guess you can have that).  

Once I knew to drink lots and lots of water the day before and that morning, it has pretty much been a breeze to get blood drawn.  And, I make sure (if possible) to go to the lab at the hospital where this is what they do ALL day long - draw blood.  So they are pretty good at it.

I have a doctor's appointment on Friday.  A follow-up to a new medication she started me on in May.  I have follow up appointments every six months for my regular medications and my original issue (migraines).  Each time before an appointment I needed to get my blood drawn so they could send it to the labs to be tested and get the results to the doctor before my scheduled appointment.  Back in the day this would be about a week before my appointment. They are much quicker now so I fasted last evening after six p.m. and skipped my coffee this morning and stopped in to get my blood drawn.  

They said I was not on the chart. They did have a draw with an end date of Sept 20th but they could not draw it yet for that paperwork.  Sigh.  We had to wait until after 8 o'clock when my doctor's office opened to get it straightened around.  When they finally called back, they said I was not to get blood work for this appointment.  What?  Why?  The receptionist could not tell me.  Every time, twice a year for thirty years I've been having blood work drawn before an appointment (unless it was an unplanned visit).  How is this doctor supposed to determine if the new medicine is working or not without blood results?  Is she going to take my word for it? I just received a refill and I believe it is 90 pills so I am good until my regular appointment.

This week it's the doctor. Last week it was the phone. Next week is the chimney issue. It just goes on and on. I guess the only way off the merry-go-round is death, so I'll quit bitchin' about it, now.

Irish Twins, two sets

An "Irish twin" is an informal term for siblings born less than 12 months apart, not actual twins, since they come from separate pregnancies. 

We have two sets of "Irish Twins" in our family.  Brother 1953 and sister 1954.  He was born April 13th 1953 and she March 25th 1954.   Then sister 1956 was born Sept 9th and Brother 1958 was born August 13th.

Sister 1956 turns 70 this September and I'm working on getting a family get together to celebrate.

In both sets of "Irish Twins" the older one was born big and strong and the second one was born quite small and much weaker. I would imagine our Mom did not have enough time to build up her strength for the second baby after the first one had been born.  For most of their lives the second born of the twins were smaller in stature.  I told my Mom that had she not stopped, I would have had a younger sister to boss around.  The birth pattern was boy, girl, girl - boy, girl, girl - boy, girl -- The end. 

 She laughed and laughed when I thanked her for not stopping (before me, that is).  She said she wanted to stop after the first two were born - she had her boy and a girl.   

I do not intend the label "Irish Twins" to be derogatory in any way towards any nationality. It was a phrase I had grown up with and I chose to share it here.