While up in Lagrange, I went digging through some stuff and happened upon a few photo albums in an end table. Oh, my gosh. Der Bingle with curls all over the place, my dad holding Robert William and slim me in front of 162 C University Village at Iowa State – 1969.

How ever did so much time pass? And I’m not so sure about all the picture taking. Maybe it was better where every now and then someone snapped a photo – black and white with scalloped white print border. You just can’t step into a picture, even though there you are, with the vague memory of the light breeze that was catching my hair. I suppose I’ll have to scan these photos –  my dad so young-looking and a little boy’s blond hair.

I’m gathering my stoicism to open the sack of photos that weren’t included in albums, but as I gathered them up, I believe I had a glimpse of the little blond boy’s chubby blonde mother, wearing summer shorts with ruffles on her butt and Great Aunt Sara offering a steadying hand.

I’m sitting here in the room with the big oak table, thinking that it is lunch time. I’m eating peanut butter; years ago I would have been sitting down to a big Mother meal. That is an excellent example of things that I have taken for granted.

Ironically, I am surroundd by cookbooks and  cards with recipes on them. Always in my mind has there been the thought, “All that work and then it’s going to br EATEN??!!?”

Mother always enjoyed having people happily EATING; I have trouble understanding that. To me it seems more like “The dog ATE my homework!” Somuch for gentics.. However, now that I think about, it really did taste good. Even a chunk of her meatloaf, not to mention the fancy desserts.

I guess now I’m getting my just desserts. This is a case where puns hit too close to home. I’d better distract myself before I desperately seek out a grocery and Twinkies.

Well, okie dokie, I’m up here in the smells like skunk house, taking full advantage of the powers of Yankee Candle’s Autumn Lodge. I’m aso going around with a can of air neutralizer. At least it’s  not like when Little Ann got skunked and we had to spend half the night with her and dishwashing liquid, tomato sauce and water in the bathtub.

Well, I’m hoping I won’t have to paint the walls with a tomato product. Sigh.

Der Bingle hopes to get back from San Diego today; he started out yesterday morning long before dawn. Engine problems on two planes and he spent the night at the Denver Marriott. He was in Chicago around one this afternoon.Blue Icebat went with him and I think he will wait awhile before taking another trip.

This seems like a good time to settle in with a book; I hear no dissenting votes. Soooo

I will elaborate, but the short version is: At the Lagrange house – another vandal; a skunk obviously got in and got scared; the pipes are probably frozen; I knocked over the Yankee Candle that was combating the skunk odor and last night at the nursing home, someone spilled coffee on me – but it had cooled.

I forgot my Kindle and phone charging plug at Lagrange. And did you know that snow slides off of steep metal roofs and makes a wall in front of doors on the North side?

Lately, I’ve just been sort of not exactly well-grounded in what I want to do. I wouldn’t call it crazy, although a little craziness might be relieving. I wanted to email someone and remind her that I think of her and care. I probably did a awkward, unfocused stab at it, but I did manage to push send.

The temperature has climbed into the 40’s/50’s from negative numbers last week, so I am sticking my nose out the door. I will be going to check out the Lagrange County house, now that it is not necessary to spend a lot of the amount of heat to make moving away from the gas heater with its actual flaming warmth possible.

The nurses and aides on the night shift at the nursing home warmed my heart. The door is to be locked every night at 10, but when I stopped by the desk to have someone let me out, the lady in charge of that task told me she had left it open for me. It’s the little things that I appreciate so much. Although if anyone wants to give me a huge Hummer, I’d appreciate that too.

Well, I’ve got to get my act together here and that will require a pep talk from Rose.

As the cool cats used to say: Later.

So, a bit of a vacation from AmeliaJake that just happened – I guess the Internet got lucky. Oh, I have things I want to post – from the mystery box from LZP to pictures of (gasp) sunshine and warm weather (relatively speaking) at the Greene in Dayton, Ohio. Guido even went to the Mongolian restaurant there. I have a picture of him after having scarfed down noodles, rice, veggies, seafood and spices on my iphone. It may or may not show up here.

Der Bingle left this morning early to catch a plane to San Diego and I’ll be heading back to Indiana. I watched his headlights reflect across the ceiling as he pulled out of the parking lot. My car is sitting down there still, waiting for me to load up and, maybe, just maybe, clean it out after having had piles of winter gear stashed in it. A little outside wash for the road salt might be welcome as well.

I’ll just take a few more moments to gear up to pack and drive – or perhaps a tad bit longer.

LZP sent an email that another “mystery box” was on its way to Der Bingle and me . . . and he included a picture he had found from 1975. He referred to it as when he had hair. Well, I downloaded it and sent a reply:

I remember those days of 75. Can I blog the picture? Huh? Huh? You look like a movie star – like you could have been in the back of Thelma and Louise’s car.

Okay, today, while out of the house for the entire day and evening, my phone chimed in a reply:

sure
I used to drive the girls crazy
now I drive to get away from the crazy girls

So, one of the first things I did when I returned home was to pull up this blog and do the deed.

In hopes of being given permission to post another picture from the past, I offer up this one of moi, AmeliaJake.

Yesterday I woke with an unsettled intestinal system and then got hot and cold at the same time; the weather was icy and my replacement Kindle could not be delivered. Now, after an early morning trip to the bathroom, I stopped by the kitchen for a bit of ice for a drink . . AND THE ICEMAKER IS NOT WORKING.

I looked it all over and came to the conclusion that it IS NOT WORKING. So I am in the first step of the situation: I closed the door, leaned on it and implored, “WORK, WORK, WORK, YOU ICEMAKER.” I do not have much hope in this step.

So, what am I writing about? Well, something that I just realized I was reading about seven years ago: a little boy named Thomas Bickle who died of a brain tumor. I followed his story through his mother’s posting on her blog. Just type “Bickle” into the search category, and the posts will come up, if you are interested. Or just take a look at one – this one. Or type in Dwarves of Grief; it will melt your heart.

I have had a light – and amber one – in my west-facing porch window for a long time now; I’ve gone through several bulbs; It’s Thomas Bickle’s light. It sits unobtrusively on the wide window sill and shines out all the time. It is still there because some things just have to be remembered and acknowledged – an enduring remembrance that transcends the drama of an event that moves forever further into the past.

Tonight I noticed the special warmth of its glow and I almost heard myself whisper, “Hello, there, Thomas’ light. Shine on.”

I decided to write about these moments because every now and then, I need to stop with boring accounts and puns and made-up silly ideas and expressions of disgust at some politicians and just cite a worthy reason for this blog to be here.