Going Inkless

Well, maybe not as dire as that. I suppose I should start by saying it's not all falling apart, at least not in anything more than the sense that everything  is always  falling apart.  Nature of the universe and all that.  Still, there have been things I've been trying to do lately that are running through some rough patches, and it's good to remind myself that falling apart is what things do.  If they didn't fall apart, we wouldn't have the challenge of putting them back together later. Now, this post may be a bit scattered, and it may run over the same ground I've covered before.  Ah, well.  It's kind of where I am at the moment, and the thoughts are worth sharing because I'm sure you've been there, too.  So, enough apologies.  Here goes:      I've always had a taste for big projects.  There are hundreds of little things that need doing around the house each day, but they hold no attraction like the major task that m...

     I haven't really ridden a bicycle in almost twenty years.  The qualifier is in that statement because there have been a couple of opportunities to spend some insignificant time pedalling.  A few years ago, my husband joined me on some long walks in the state park, me on foot and him on his bicycle.  The bike was gentler on feet and joints, and I did take a turn in order to demonstrate that I am too short to use his bicycle. But that sort of thing is not what I would consider really riding.      Despite the lull, there was a time when being on a bike was as much a part of my life as swimming, running barefoot up and down the lakeshore, or sitting in the branches of a mulberry tree.  Before that phase, there are memories of learning to ride, of standing in the driveway with tear-streaked cheeks, kicking my bike.  My knees and palms were bloody and crusted with dirt and tiny stones.  Our home at that time offered only grass...

     At times, I take great comfort in my capacity to be wrong.  My daughter regularly counted on that quality when she was growing up.  Often, my first answer to a request for permission on one thing or another was instinctively "no".  Mothers are protective of their little ones and wary of potential dangers in all things "fun".  But my daughter learned that if she kept trying, that "no" might eventually swing around to a reluctant "yes".  All children try this tactic, and many a parent has been worn down by a persistent plea.  If she had gone the usual route, however, I doubt she would have had much success.  Repetition, begging or whining would have broken on an unyielding wall of stubbornness and only strengthened my resolve.  But calm, reasoned arguments would always find a way in, and she could be very good at that.      Often, the fears that prompted a negative response could be eased with logical counterargu...

I think that we handled the recent power outage fairly well, but it held a series of lessons nonetheless. The storm swept through northern Illinois suddenly on Monday morning, knocking down trees and telephone poles, tearing off shingles and scattering anything that wasn't nailed down. It blew through quickly enough and left us with clear skies for most of the day, but the damage had knocked out power in a wide area including my entire town and most of its neighbors. I saw work crews on the streets just minutes after the worst of the storm as I drove cautiously to the library, dodging debris from the size of small branches to whole trees. Still, our power wasn't restored until Wednesday night. LESSON 1: Mother Nature is still The Boss. The library where I work was one of the rare establishments unaffected by the downed power lines. Our piece of the grid was still functioning while houses directly across the street were dark until late Tuesday night, and many businesse...

Many a cook has claimed their food tastes better because it was cooked with love. A product from my kitchen is as likely to have been cooked with another four letter word - or several. Oh, there's love, too, but for me the struggle and swearing are part of the process. My father was an ex marine and a truck driver. He was a fisherman in his free time and an often belligerent alcoholic; so, it's really a wonder that I'm allowed in polite company at all. His bad example helped to demonstrate that there's a time and a place to exercise my vocabulary, and as a result, only a few people could guess the extent of it. Even as a teen, I was always amused when guys I hung out with would apologize for the occasional slip. Apparently, my image, built up from being a reader and a good student, a relatively wise and responsible child, put me in the category with mothers, teachers and librarians. I was a delicate creature who would be easily shocked by rude language. In truth...

There is a certain amount of security and comfort in doing things the hard way. That may seem counter intuitive , but it's true. Nobody likes trouble, and humankind is known for going to great lengths to make their lives easier. The easy way has its obvious attractions: less work, fewer problems, quicker rewards. Still, troubles will come your way unbidden from time to time, regardless of your choosing the easy road. Every person must deal with hardships at some point. Occasionally choosing to rough it prepares you for the unexpected and gives you peace of mind knowing that you are capable of handling those troubles. There is often satisfaction in taking on a difficult goal and working to the solution. People do puzzles and read mysteries for just that reason. Human beings need to be challenged to be happy. Yet, I'm still faced with quizzical looks when I choose a tougher path. Several years ago, I spent a week of vacation building a large terraced planter in the f...