About Appliances

The first major appliance I owned was a gift from the old lady who lived in the apartment across the hall from me in Salt Lake.  There were three apartments in the old house, and we and she lived on the main floor. The hippy couple and their crotch sniffing German shepherd lived upstairs.

I was 18 years old in 1970, and if you are old enough to remember 1970, you will also remember that it was still during the age of the cloth diaper.  I had a baby, a husband that didn't come home either to visit, bring food, money or transportation.  He was a dear that way.

Mrs. Thomas took pity on me and gave me an old washing machine, and I was thrilled.  It was a drum on wheels that I had to shove across the kitchen and fill with a hose.  The laundry agitated for as long as I deemed fit, and the wringers dumped it into the rinse water in the sink.  After the rinse water, the wringers directed the laundry (mostly diapers, of course) into a basket to be taken out and line dried.  

The line was very short, so the only option for me was to hang the diapers three or four at a time.  It worked in the fall, but not so well when the snow flew.  When it turned so cold, they would hang out during the daylight hours, then I would drape them all over the house to finish drying over night.  It worked.

Fast forward 40 years to a different residence, a different husband, and different appliances.  It's hard to say which is the most dramatic change, to tell you the truth.  I am now the proud owner of a very decent house, a very decent husband, and the laundry room of the future.  You've come a long way, Baby!

 The tile may be from 1957, but the appliances are state of the art!  These little babies not only wash and dry the laundry with no shoving around on big wheels, filling or draining with a portable hose, or getting personal parts caught in the proverbial wringer, they are entertainment express.

1970: Push washer to sink, attach hose to faucet, fill washer with laundry, water, soap, plug in to begin agitation, etc., etc., etc.

2010: Load clothes, soap, and softener, press power button, turn dial to required setting, push play, sit down and watch the show!

These little babies do everything but wax the driveway!  On top of that, we can all sit around as a family group and watch the antics of the washer!  THAT, my friend, is entertainment.


When they finish, they don't grind to a stop or buzz like a smoke detector. They play a catchy little tune that even I can hear upstairs.


I guess change can be good.

Death Discussed

Today I'm analyzing death.  I do that sometimes and have come up with a plethora of conclusions as a result.

To begin with, the thought of being dead doesn't bother me.  Getting dead is a little worrisome, but by and large, if being dead was such a bad thing,would so many do it?  I don't recall a single instance of hearing or reading about someone being dead for a year and came back because it was too much work.  I have, on the other hand, heard and read of the opinions of a variety of organized religions and their differing thoughts of what heaven is - and isn't.

Martha and George were married young and lived to a ripe old age. George is happy as a clam all their married life because Martha waits on him, raises the family, cleans the house, and never argues with him.  An eternity of this life is George's idea of heaven.  Martha, however, has something else in mind.

Martha's idea of heaven is being able to relax without an ornery, spoiled, grumpy bugger demanding every second of her time, telling her what her opinions are, and reminding her she's never done anything right since he met her.  She doesn't care a lick about which level of heaven she goes to, as long as it isn't with him.  Hmmmm.

None of us remember where we were before we got here, so who is to say we remember here when we get there?  Maybe we do remember so we can snort and guffaw about how stupid we were for a lifespan here.

Maybe we are just individuals without our earthly families -- you know, all God's children and all that?  Martha will know George and remember that he was a good provider and really did have a pretty good sense of humor. George will realize he was kind of a *ick, but he really did love her.  They might meet for coffee sometimes.

How about those of us who make bad mistakes? Do we have to do it over again because we were idiots?  I don't want to do it over again for any reason.

My brother is the reason for all these deep ruminations at this time.  He's dying.  He isn't in a rush and he is treating his cancer in an effort to postpone the inevitable, but it will kill him.  He will be 66 next month. I'm mourning the loss of a dear brother I lost 45 years ago. Deep thought, that. It's a whole 'nother story.

He's being pragmatic about the second most major event in one's life staring him in the face.  He isn't so much asking, why me? as, why not me?  In a nutshell: shit happens.  There ain't none of us getting out of this alive.

Hence my thoughts on life and death.  I thought I'd be first.  I want to go like Mom and drop like a rock, or simply wake up dead.  I'd give him some of my years, if I have any left.

Fall is Fell

I like fall best because I like crisp things.  The air, the leaves, the nights, and the apples are all things that should be crisp. 

I've raked about 15 bushels of chestnuts off the lawn, but Goldsberry rakes the leaves.  The leaves are easy-peasy to rake comparatively speaking, but he hauls them off to his garden.  Gavin, with the impeccable logic of a 5 year old says, "Why doesn't Gwampa put them in hith gahden?" 

Goldsberry shares his summer bounty all season, so we don't mind sharing the leaves.  

This is a very rambling post, so let's ramble somewhere else.  Have you ever seen a dog in a Halloween costume?  They are ridiculous.

 After you pay good money for a stupid costume, you have to get it on the dog. There is, however, entertainment value in watching a 90 pound girl wrestle an 85 pound dog into a costume that's too small.  Good thing they are both very good natured.

Then try to get a picture of the silly dog in the stupid costume that is too small, while the silly dog tries to lick the lens.  I cut off the parrot on top of her hat in the picture, then she broke the hat by shaking her head like a paint mixer.


I don't know why people waste money on things like this, and I'll never do it again.

I've been watching this tree through my kitchen window for a couple of weeks.  OK, I've been watching it though my kitchen window for 20 years, but I'm just talking about this year.  It gets more beautiful every day. 


If life is this good, how much better might the next one be?