Monday, August 31, 2009


I hate midnight phone calls, I really do. Unless there is a baby due somewhere, they rarely bring good news. The one tonight, although slightly before midnight, was not about newborn babies.
Our neighbors across the street are older (yes, even older than us!) and in poor health. We got an emergency call from them a few months ago. Bob was unresponsive - I thought stroke. But his wife called us instead of 911. We called for the rescue squad while trying to get him to respond. It took 8 days in the hospital and a diagnosis of "We don't really know", but he came home and did great. He went back to doing all the cooking and took care of his wife when she had a second knee replacement last month.
But tonight, he was not breathing. And his wife called us instead of 911. I called as soon as we got there; no pulse, no respiration. Ronald darling tried CPR at the request of the 911 operator. He had to get Bob's teeth out of his mouth first (I know, sorry about that) and then made an attempt. But it was obvious that he was gone. He was cold, his eyes were open, no blinking, no pulse, nothing.
The rescue squad got there very quickly, although it always seems like forever. They asked about a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) but he didn't have one and she said to do "whatever it takes". So they spent the next 30 or 40 minutes trying to bring him back, they put in an IV and did who knows what all else. Six EMTs working in a bedroom about 10 by 10. They were getting ready to put him on a stretcher and take him to the hospital when we left. She had called her stepson to come down; he lives just around the corner. He and his wife were with her when we came home.
If they get him breathing again, I will be shocked... and grateful. Bob is a real sweetie.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


I like kissing.
When I was a young single gal, several decades ago, before Ronald darling, there was another young man who wanted to marry me. Really, there was! He was in the city temporarily. He worked for NCR and was here for training for about six months. He was going to work for them for a few years (his plan) and then go back to Indiana and buy a pig farm. Okay, that was a little off putting, but I could go along with it. I'd never been on a pig farm and had no idea what it would be like, so I was willing to go along with that. But he was not a great kisser, he was not a good kisser. In fact, he was a lousy kissser. I was very young, didn't know much about it, but I knew that my last boyfriend was a good kisser because we sat on the porch and did it for a long time.
So when my suitor finished his training and left, I just let him go. I wanted a good kisser!

I was reading a friend's blog yesterday. Her daughter is going from home school to middle school and she wanted to include some of the things that boys might suggest. Kissing techniques popped into her mind.

Whenever tongues enter the conversation, I am reminded of a talk I had with a young single sister a few years ago. I don't know why people come to me for advice - maybe it's because I'm always right and never wrong and I know everything. Anyway, she was dating the first young man that actually seemed like he might be "the one". Her question?

"How far down your throat does his tongue go before you have to talk to the bishop?"

So I went on my first and only date with Ronald darling and he kissed me. On the first date! And the rest, as they say is history.

I really like kissing. And this song is inspiration for the activity.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

In The Olden Days

Well, not olden days to me, but olden days to a bunch of you.

Laundry day was Monday. All the laundry was washed on Monday and hung on the line in the back yard to dry. The line always sagged, so you propped it up in the middle with a wooden 1 x 2. Usually you had 2 or 3 lines, that way you could hang the underwear in the middle or in the back where the neighbors couldn't see it.

When the clothes were dry, you brought them in the house, laid them out on the kitchen table and sprinkled them with water from a little doohickey stuck in an old soda pop bottle. Then, you folded them up, stuffed them in a zippered plastic bag and stuffed them into the refrigerator. Overnight. Really.
That was because Tuesday was ironing day. That's all you did, all day long, was iron clothes. That included the handkerchiefs, the sheets, the dresses, the skirts and blouses and Sunday go to meeting clothes. Not the underwear, we got a break on that. When I was a kid, my mama taught me how to iron, starting with the handkerchiefs. She put one of the kitchen chairs up to the ironing board with the back against the board. I stood on that and ironed. The reason we sprinkled the clothes and put them in the refrigerator overnight was so they would be universally damp in the morning. That's because there was no steam in the iron, it was just HOT. Lick your finger and tap the bottom of the iron. If the spit sizzles, it's hot enough. Really. But of course, you didn't teach a kid to iron too young. I was 6 or 7 when I started that. And I was really proud of myself. I ironed the folds into daddy's hankies and I was a big girl!

By the time I was married with a home of my own things had changed some. We didn't hang or sprinkle the clothes, because we had steam irons and dryers. But when you're ironing and you realize that it's work and not a privilege, you need SOMETHING to do while you iron. That's when I started watching soap operas on a regular basis. I watched for two hours every day. Four soaps, two hours because they were only half an hour long.

I watched CBS' entire lineup. Love of Life, As the World Turns, The Guiding Light and The Edge of Night. It took up a portion of the day, but wasn't too bad. But in 1977, they expanded all the soaps to a full hour. That took up half the ding dong day! Unbelievable! So I quit cold turkey. Mom tried to keep me watching one, so we'd have something to talk about, but I sucked it up and just said No!

The Guiding Light has filmed the last episodes this week. They are going off the air. That show has been broadcast for 72 years. I know, I know. They started on the radio, then went to telelvision with 15 minute episodes. Amazing.

But I haven't watched soaps in years. Now I just watch endless reruns of Andy Griffith and NCIS, not in that order. ;)