What passes for exitement

 It was around 5:30 p.m., and, as usual, the heighborhood was quiet; the weather was clear, my dinner was started in my old electric overn, and ---poof, with no warning, the electricity went off.The small, little sound that I heard and ignored, was, of course, the sound of a blown transmitter. I can't evn count the number of times this has happened to me in my 90 years.

We have had outages that lasted so long we had to empty our refrigerators and freezers. We have had outagea so severe water pipes froze and I styed at a motel for two nights. I used to even enjoy the outages when dinner was in the oven, and I could say to Bob, "Good, let's go out to dinner".

Bu this was my first outage, stuck in an electric bed and unable to go anywhere. The house would get cold, but I have extra blankets. The food -in the oven wouldn't cook but the food in the fridge was still available; jellied consomme, sour cream, and sliced turkey for a sandwich. The only real concern was the electric bed ,which was frozen in the sitting position.But, c'm on, Phyllis, I thought, we have other beds.

Suddenly, just as quietly as it went out, the lights came on and the electricity was back.

But the cable was out, too; no phone, no TV.Then I remembered an old analog TV we had.. and I had gotten a converter for that. Just for  an"emergency" like this, I guess. So I watched CBS, which is my Tuesday night channel of choice, with a new" NCIS" and  "The Good Wife,"

As I went to sleep at 11, the regular TV had set itself to the correct time. I didn't even try my cell phone to call my landline.

So how would I react if there actually was some excitement? I'll let you know if it ever happens!

Legally Legal

The other day, I discovered that my handicapped parking permit had expired in July. Not that it should matter, because I am going no where--no where, at all.

 But what if I did need to go to a doctor in an emergency, which I won't, because I am in Hospice. But, really-- what if?  And my daughter found a handicap space,  she got me in the wheel chair, and we had no permit and .....

One of the deadly sins to me, is to use a space to which you are not entitled; interpreted broadly, it is fair to say that I value integrity above all other virtues. And so for good measure, I contacted the Ohio Bureau of Motor vehicles. (Permit division).

(They answer their phone, which is more than I can say for their drivers' liscence division. Mine is due to renew on October 20, and because there is no circumstance in the world to get me behind the wheel, I do need a valid ID, I suppose.)

Back to the permit people. I gave them the id# on the card, and explained that I was sure I had had the request  to my doctor before July rolled around, and that he had returned it. Needless to say, I was a little preoccpied at the time. They had no record of this, so they will send me a new request form. Don't hold your breath, it will be sent in two to three weeks time.

P.S. I reached Susan Hospice on Friday afternoon and the table was delivered at 7:00 p.m. It's working great.

My Space

It is not that I am being crowded out by people, or that I feel I deserve more space than I have;  I have a whole bed to myself...even a whole room.

 I am being hedged in by my communication devices: the bed control, the tv control, the phone, the laptop, the thesaurus, magazines, books, a little pile of papers that need tending to, a small baggie with my compact and lipstick...

I am having a hard time thinking, let alone writing. If my house has not always been impeccably clean, it was always neat. Clutter drove me crazy. (Only one of our children inherited the "neatness" gene; the other two thrive in disarray,) I still have a lot I want to say, but by the time I get the correct device in my surrounding (bed)scape, I want to pick up the magazine at hand, instead.

I was talking( complaining) to my Designated Daughter about this, when we both remembered a table Hospice had lent Bob, with a leg that slides under the bed and the table top can be moved over or beside the bed.

I just called Sue, my awesome nurse, and one will be delivered to me! 

 I probably won't write any more often, but I will be much more comfortable doing it.

The worst words

A number of years ago, when the grandchildren were in their teens, we were talking about some long-forgotten subject, that caused me to comment: "you know what I think are the four worst words in the English language: " I think you should.'" It gets under my skin for anyone to think he/she knows better than the person to whom they are speaking, what the person should do. What is wrong with "Would it be a good idea?" or "what if you try x or y".

A grandson spoke up to add that his worst words were "shut up". He hadn't heard it at home, I'm sure. Those words were also verboten in our house. It was a contemporary, with bad manners. And then another grandchild added, "I think the worst words are ' you dirty liar'".

Which lead us all to the worst sentence: "I think you should shut up, you dirty liar," a families' words of wisdom that is exactly what the family does not believe.

I think it is a kind of funny anecdote, worth blogging about. I'm sure every family has words they choose  to live by, by not using them.

And I need to push the "dislike" button for one of my "heard on TV" phrases. There are weather men, when referring to an area, say "And that's where the tornado touched down at." Edwin Newman, we miss you.

Thank you, again and again, for your kind reponses to my BBC video. I wish I could answer each and everyone. I think I shoud--- but I cannot, But I have read and relish every single one. You are eloquent and kind... and there a quite a few of you! 

Setting the bar

All of you wonderful readers have mde me realize that. even though I was assuming that I was writing for my own amusement and pleasure, there are people all over the world who now will search out this simple little blog.

And my thoughts and my fingers and my sense of humor are kind of freezing up, even though it is a beautiful day in my neighborhood. I am distracted by the men, pounding and cutting and repairing the deck across the way. A huge tree fell across the deck, not last Thursday, when we had ten tornados touch down in Ohio, near, but not on, us. This accident happened in an earlier circular high wind, and it looks as if it almost took out not only their deck, but a beautiful sculpture in the yard by Alfred Tibor, who survived the Nazi death camps and made the horror of them live on with the anguish of his stylized figures.

I do not want to disappoint you. Even more, I do not want to disppoint myself with careless writing; I have already inserted and erased commas all over the place. I will read this over and decide whether I just have the late Sunday afternoon blahs, or whether I need another day to get over myself.

These two days have been a lot for a 90 year old blogger to comprhend. But she knows enough to realize that such a miracle as the BBC has wrought happens pretty infrequently.

Next blog, I think I will try to trace back to the beginning, how this all began. We may have to go back to Adam and Eve.

On being overwhelmed

To all of you who saw the BBC post of this 90 year old blogger and took the time to write me from all over the world: I, from whose mouth and fingers words usually pour out, I am nigh on to speechless.Thank you, thank you everyone. 

And thanks to Daniel Sieberg and his crew for such sensitive editing... and for wanting to come to Columbus to meet DG and me in the first place.

I knew that the media's reach was far and wide --but the speed in which I got comments from all over the world was incredible.

With gratitude to all of you. May the days ahead be good for all of you. I send my best wishes.