I've mentioned before that I have the protection of Lifeline.  I wear a pendant with a button I can press if I need help.  (Remember the "I've fallen and I can't get up" ads?) I pay a monthly fee, and now I'm worried. I may have to pay a second one....for my cat, Ferd.  A favorite sleeping place for the cats is on my chest.  If I'm awake, I attempt to discourage this, especially if said cat's whiskers are tickling my nose.  But once I am asleep, the territory is up for grabs.  Three times lately, I've been awakened by a loud sequence of beeps from the front room, where the monitor is, and a penetrating voice, "Mrs. (Darlys), do you need help?"  At that point I need help just to figure out what is happening.  Then I must get out of bed, find my walker (and I seldom have sense enough to turn on the light) and get to the bedroom door where I can call to the disembodied voice, "No, I'm O.K.  My cat must have stepped on the button."  The last time, the voice answered, "Are both you and the cat O.K.?"  Now, will she charge me double?

On the way to run a few errands, friend Diana got the keys out of her purse, ready to lock the front door.  But before she could leave, she became aware there was an unpleasant odor in the house. She searched thoroughly, including the cat pan, and couldn't find anything amiss.  So she left, figuring she'd pursue it further when she returned. When she got in the car and shut the doors, she was assailed by the same odor.  She checked the car, also re-playing her morning...yes, she'd showered, put on clean underwear, etc.  Maybe her nose was playing tricks on her.  At the grocery store, when she went to pay her bill, she noticed the same odor.  By then, increasingly uncomfortable and self conscious, she decided to run only one more errand...a trip to the library.... same thing there. Back home, as she put her keys in her purse, the odor, or perhaps fumes at that point, rose perceptibly, so she checked further.  Below all the usual purse clutter, she discovered a paper napkin wrapped around a peeled hard boiled egg she'd popped in there the previous Sunday in case she might get hungry.

Which reminds me of the year our daughter, Beth, came home from school at the beginning of vacation and threw her purse in the closet, where it stayed through the hot summer.  When she retrieved it in the Fall she found a baggie containing what had been a half sandwich...black mush.

My friend/helper, Thelma, has been sharing brown eggs from her free range chickens.  The egg industry can tell me scientifically, or otherwise, that brown eggs are no better than white.  But emotionally, they are.  I grew up with brown eggs that had bright orange yolks.  Blindfolded, I probably couldn't tell the difference, but as long as I can see it, a brown egg is a treat.  So I magnanimously gave Beth the white store-bought eggs I already had, as she was going to dye some.  That prompted her to tell Thelma about the Easter when we were taking care of the next door neighbor's chickens.  Thirty free roaming chickens can be very imaginative as to where to make their nests.  Sneaky is another way of saying it.  We had access to the neighbor's yard through a gate in the fence between our places, but that gate was clearly visible from our house, so Beth, bent on mischief, climbed over the neighbor's locked front gate carrying a dozen decorated Easter eggs to place in the nests we knew about and would check daily. That evening she phoned and asked if we could gather the eggs because she "wasn't feeling well".  Imagine George's and my surprise to find the hens had laid brightly colored eggs that day.

Years ago, my niece, Pat, looked out one morning to see a little girl playing with her daughter, Janet.  She was apparently a newcomer to the neighborhood.  The two girls discovered the joy of mixing dirt and water and were soon a messy duo.  Since Pat was washing anyway, she stripped both girls and temporarily dressed the visitor in one of Janet's castoffs while she threw their dresses in the washer.  When the stranger's very pretty dress was washed and dried, Pat discovered its owner gone.  She had no idea where she'd come from.  A week or so later a neighbor told her of a mystery in the neighborhood.  A lady from another country and culture had moved next door to this friend and had told her she was disappointed in America. She said she had assumed they were safe in a small town and would have friendly neighbors.  But after she'd dressed her little girl in her new Easter dress, she disappeared for awhile, and when she returned someone had stolen the special dress and substituted an old and faded one.  I would have liked to have witnessed Pat's attempts at re-establishing international relations.

For those of you who are still looking and have lost hope, I have at hand a clipping from my old hometown newspaper, headlined "Couple 78 and 89, elope".  The groom is Elbert, whom I first met 68 years ago when we were both "kids".  After the death of his wife, Elbert moved to an assisted living home near his daughter.  I warned him to wear his track shoes, as males are a scarce commodity in those senior living arrangements, and he'd need to run fast.  But, did he listen? Apparently not.  At the time, he wrote back that I needn't worry as no one was interested.  Ha!!  His new wife and he already had the same last name, so they had something in common immediately.

I received a beautifully written memory from long time friend, Joylyn.  She was telling about the "other" Sept. 11th, a day which altered her life....the day her brother Terry was born.  Joylyn was 4 1/2 and had no warning whatsoever that her kingdom was to be invaded.  Nor was she sure that sharing was a good idea.  I remember Terry well.  He was a beautiful little boy with huge innocent (?) eyes, but OH MY! He was active.  His mother, Irma, was very much the lady, fresh from the midwest and not yet a relaxed westerner.  She was shopping in the furniture store across the street from us.  To display the bathroom accessories they had a "real" bathroom set up, with all the fixtures, rugs, towels, etc.  Irma was momentarily distracted while deciding on some item, and when she checked on Terry found him putting the most frequently used piece of bathroom equipment to the use for which it was intended....had it been hooked up.  Irma laughed about it later...but not then.

I  look forward to my weekly shopping trip, courtesy of Thelma, who drives me to the store. I also appreciate the electric cart which makes it possible for someone at the bottom scale of athleticism to cover the many aisles of a modern supermarket.  As I was wheeling around the store, I met another electric cart shopper, a little white haired lady, with impeccable wardrobe and make-up.  The best thing she was wearing, though, was a big smile as she greeted me with "Aren't we lucky?"

May you each greet life with that attitude.   Be thankful for what you have and forget the have-nots.
            Peace,    Darlys

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(the following first came to me from Finland)

A. The Japanese eat very little fat and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
B. On the other hand, the French eat a lot of fat and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
C. The Japanese drink very little red wine and suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans.
D. The Italians drink excessive amounts of red wine and also suffer fewer heart attacks than the British or Americans
E. Conclusion: Eat and drink what you like. It's speaking English that kills you.

While waiting for my first appointment in the reception room of a new dentist, I noticed his certificate, which bore his full name.  I remembered that a tall, handsome boy with the same name had been in my high school class some 45 years ago.  However, when the dentist walked into the room, I quickly discarded any such thought.  This balding, gray-haired man with the deeply lined face was too old to have been my classmate.  After he had examined my teeth, I asked him if he had attended the local high school.  "Yes", he replied.  "When did you graduate?" I asked.  He answered, "In 1957".  "Why, you were in my class", I exclaimed.  He looked at me more closely and then asked, "What did you teach?"

I was playing tooth fairy when my daughter suddenly woke up. Seeing the money in my hand, she said, "I caught you!"  I froze and tried to think of an explanation for why I - instead of the tooth fairy - was putting the money under her pillow.  But her next words let me off the hook.  "You put that money back," she said, indignantly.  "The tooth fairy left that for me."

(For those of you who missed this one on from Paul Harvey) The teacher suggested her students come to class the next day dressed as someone they admired. One little boy arrived in a bathrobe and carrying a long stick like a staff.  When he was asked who he represented, he said "Jesus Christ."

Another boy snickered and said he looked more like Little Bo Peep, whereupon "Jesus" gave him a black eye.

2002 2nd Wind Issue Index