Quentin’s Blue Spruce

Sydney and myrtle from Grandma Sarah’s, which came form Mary Grismore Woodrow in Kingman, Indiana

Quentin’s White Pine

I usually complain about this state, this Indiana, this legendless state. And yet today . . . well, today was a perfect day if you are talking in terms of weather. It was an “And what is so rare as a day in June; then, if ever, come perfect days” day. Thank you, Mrs. Bitner and sophomore English. These are the days I think I was born to – if these days had nurtured my soul, surely I would have been a less surly person. I absolutely love days in the 70’s, low humidity and blue sky. Maybe my ancestors came here on such a day as this and thought, “Oh, there will be another one . . . if we just have faith and wait long enough.”

My father was born within a stone’s throw (kinda) of the Banks of the Wabash. One lady told me I have more cousins in Washington County, Indiana then I could shake a stick at. I know I am related to a lot of the people in the ground there. And, to a lot of people buried up here as well. I am, ahem, rooted to this state. When I first got to California, I should have bent over and nailed my feet to the ground.

This is so not cool of me. Indiana gave me a great day and do I say thanks? I do not. I think, oh, wow, it will be forever before another one comes in this state.

This would be a rant . . . would it not?

I am only part way through The Black Dahlia; I started watching it late last evening, and I guess it is stretching it to call it evening – it was after 10 pm. The first part went along okay; I was alert . . . but watching the movie through blurred vision since I had applied facial cream a little too close to my eyes.

Then I noticed that there were times when I closed my eyes to let the tears wash them that I apparently didn’t hear what was happening in the movie. Before I would just follow the dialogue as a let my eyes water, but after a while I noticed that no one seemed to talk while I was resting my eyes. After a while, I thought, “Wait a minute here. Am I dozing?” After this happened several times and I found myself wondering about gaps in the storyline, I decided to admit the obvious and just stopped the DVD. Stopped – not paused.

I suppose I will have to look at scene selections and figure out where I should resume watching. It’s an easy method; I pick the earliest scene that elicits a “what the heck; I don’t remember this” moment from me and go from there.

It’s kind of bittersweet. When I used to stay up watching WGN late shows when we lived in Palatine, I would fall asleep because of the notoriously long commercial breaks. I would think that I would have no problem if  they just kept telling the story and didn’t take interruptions long enough to take a shower and cook a cheese sandwich. Well, now the DVD’s keep right on going, but my inner bunny needs some battery work. Think a connection is a little loose?