I am one of those people who reads – a lot; fortunately for me, when they talk of addictions they don’t call readers addicts – they call them bookworms. I have learned to adapt my reading to what is going on around me after all these years, but sometimes I revert to my primal state. Tonight was one of those times. After several questions from my grandson, I asked loudly, “Can’t you see I am READING?”

That brings my granddaughter out to where I am to quote what I said to her the night before: “If you can’t ignore people talking, you are not a good reader.” And, of course, I had to answer that there is a difference between people talking and being asked a direct question. But then, to her anything her brother asks is not worthy of note and I am wrong not to ignore him as well

So, I get them off my back . . . and then I get a phone call. Okay, fine, we’re talking, talking, talking and then that call is over and I settle in. I always call my mother in the evening to make certain she is all right; tonight she called me and after a while I told her I was reading, almost to the end of the book. Finally, finally she gets off the line.

Then 30 minutes later the phone goes off on the table, playing Honky Tonk Blues and vibrating against the wood. And I knew. I really, really knew. I answered with a gritted out hello and I heard, “Did you finish your book and then . . . and this is from a notoriously grouchy lady . . . laughter.

This is that lady, in case you don’t remember:

Westminster Village “A Community of Friends, A Great Place to Retire“

I used to live there.

Yes, I did. It was in 1973 and 1974 and it was then Blytheville Air Force Base. Later, the name was changed to Eaker. Then in the 90’s it closed and I believe the housing area was unoccupied for an extended period of time. Now it is a retirement community.

Most memorable was the Lawn Police who patrolled on Tuesday and if your lawn wasn’t up to par, issued you some sort of citation. We moved in and went to buy a lawn mower and when we returned, we found the lawn police had left us one of their calling cards. I heard tell that the captain who lived across the street from us and was from Cape Girardeau (Rush Limbaugh territory) ran after the truck, tearing up the ticket and dropping it on the street.

Here is my floor plan from those days: HERE

Although, I think they moved the stove and door location in the kitchen.

I must say that I wonder if any of the people living there now were there when they were in the service.

Oh, by the way, that branch is from the blue spruce, broken off by the wind and ice. I’ll pull it away, sooner or later.

Just so many leaves and so many branches and mud, mud and mud.

Will we ever get this cleaned up so we can lounge here again.

Sydney wanted his own earthquake post.

They had an earthquake this morning in some 130+ miles east of St. Louis – a 5.4 or 5.5 (now being listed as a 5.2) and I didn’t feel it. Although some news reports said it was felt as far north as southern Michigan and that building’s in Chicago’s Loop swayed, I DIDN’T FEEL IT.

I was awake, but stretched out on the sofa, thinking should I doze or keep reading. At one point the dog jumped down, turned around and stuck his nose in my face – maybe it was the earthquake, but I assumed he wanted a dog biscuit to add to his collection. Later I saw the breaking news story, but didn’t say anything to anyone in the house. My daughter-in-law just now caught a snatch of the story on TV and exclaimed, “Oh, my gosh, I felt it!”

She’s a nurse and she said, “I knew I wasn’t having a seizure because I was alert.” Okay. Well, I missed it. I can’t remember even being vibrated on a cushion sensation. Nothing, Zilch. Even the over-piled coffee table by my usual sitting spot remained unchanged.

Wait a minute . . . you know how police go over and over the questioning of a subject . . . I think I was aware of it; I remember thinking, that, gee the dog is vibrating against my legs.

So maybe I did feel an earthquake, but I had to figure it out . . . maybe it is a false memory. Perhaps if I keep thinking about it, I will suddenly remember being shaken onto the floor as the ceiling fan swayed menacingly above me.

It couldn’t have been too much, though, because I was not aware of my body’s extra weight feeling like a bowl full of jelly .