I woke up fairly early this morning and thought I’d just lie cozy in my blankets as it got light. Well, it hasn’t. It looks pitch black out the windows and it is 6:23 in the morning. Of course, it is already 10 days into September.

It was chilly in the back vestibule and I see the high is going to be 74?; on July 10th, I think we were seeing temps of lows in the 80’s and highs in the 100’s. And daylight, there was a lot of daylight.

As I have grown older, I have become fonder of the light outside – days starting early with horizons in view. Now I see my reflection in the dark window and I wait for my daylight fix.

While trying to cut soft food with the side of my fork, said fork broke. The metal tines and curved part popped off of the handle; it was once a sporty little summertime fork with a plastic handle and now it is . . . still usable. I ate the rest of my stuff with it as we sat outside after grilling. Der Bingle did not notice until he saw the tine part lying on my empty paper plate. Makes me wonder about my table manners. But then, who continues to use a broken fork? A. AmeliaJake B. Rose C. Shane.

Time for the titanium spork to come to my rescue.

After joining Clara, (Kathryn’s roommate) watching parts of the Democratic Convention while Kathryn was sleeping, I mentioned to Clara that if I didn’t have a stroke, heart attack or wind up with a television on my foot during this election period, it would be a miracle. She, of course, laughed and I laughed too, BUT I knew it was very possible I could have TWO feet with TV’s on them.

Clara’s the same age as Kathryn (95) and she said maybe she didn’t have enough information to vote this year. Then she added, “But I suppose I should.” Clara is smart about everything – especially how to accept all aspects of life . . . She doesn’t call the room she and Kathryn share “my room”, she calls it home. And she remembers the past with enjoyment, but she doesn’t pine over its being just that – the past.

Actually, what I am getting around to saying is that I was good; I did not respond to Clara’s voting potential with a full-court press steering her to my choice. I held my tongue. Yes, a miracle I know.

Later, while the TV was doing a little “analysis” and showing Bill Clinton and Obama hugging, she said, “I just don’t see how THAT MAN can support THAT ONE. So we have hope . . .

I am publishing this picture in the “antique” effect because I cannot bear to bolster my full color memory of the moment. People tell me Shane is spoiled. Uh, maybe they have been seeing things clearer than I because there is STEAK in his bowl with the dog  food . . .  and cheese!

So what is the problem? I didn’t offer him a small portion to sniff and pass judgement on first – could that be it? Was it because I did not have a napkin over my forearm? He doesn’t like his dinner companions?

Maybe this all started when we  bought him a rotisserie chicken at Thanksgiving because dogs can’t have turkey? Those who know my family know that I didn’t start that tradition –  it was Robert Grismore and Miss Alice. I mean the man would bring home a chicken breast from the Essenhaus for her. (This would be the same man who got down on his hands and knees to comfort Socrates (our cocker spaniel) when he got his feelings hurt and crawled under the bed.)

A visual memory from an earlier post: Robert Grismore, grandson Robert & Miss Alice.

When I first started walking in town, I immediately noticed that I see so much more than when I drive down these streets – albeit at the legal s l o w posted speed. Some places have become mini-milestones in my walk and I decided I would snap some pictures before we got into fall. As it turns out, it was the last sunny morning since then. (Oh, yeah, there’s the blasted Obama poster inside someone’s enclosed porch that  is no longer on my route – that would be a blood pressure spike and not a milestone, touchstone or whatever.)

But, getting on back on track, there are a lot of attractive spots that I notice – these are just a few that somehow trigger thoughts in my mind and not just pleasure in my eyes.

This one . . . this one right here – there are a few errant grass blades among the petunias that reside on a steep slope fairly early in my route. I like that; it’s been darn hot this summer and I can’t see the sense of some lady balancing precariously to pluck them out.  The purple flowers greet me each morning with good cheer and sensibility and I appreciate them.

Then there are these marigolds. They have stood all summer in straight lines like soldiers guarding the sidewalk. I sometimes imagine a little General Patton Marigold standing at the end of the walk, telling them, “I’m proud of you men; you have stood your ground, not given an inch, despite the drought, despite the incredible heat. I would be proud to lead you little marigolds into battle anyplace, anytime.”

And here’s the porch that says “Welcome, Midwesterner, stop and chat and have a sip of lemonade:

Then there is the place where a side yards opens up to a vista of good cheer:

Here’s one of my favorites – the little “don’t forget me “puppy-faced” sunflower who greets me each day and sometimes I think I can see a little sunflower tail wag.

Now we come to the curving row of begonias; for most of the summer, they were a spot of color in a brown lawn like mine. I would think of an Army fort form the Old West – a nod to color and life in a dry, harsh land.

This is the side of a house on the corner by the fairgrounds; there are a lot of graceful and pleasant flowers in the yard, all blending together to create a park-like atmosphere. But I’ve always enjoyed turning the corner and seeing this against the foundation.

Despite my attraction to sunflowers, I have found one spot that makes me just a little uneasy. It is located in a corner lot, where the backyard flowers lean over toward the sidewalk on the side. Often, because the open expanse of the fairgrounds is opposite the site, they will sway in a slight breeze and THEY PUT ME IN MIND OF THE DAY OF THE TRIFFIDS. I sometimes wonder if the big yellow head is going to bend over to mine. But what is more disturbing are the red flowers that tower on stems that suggest they could take two Triffid-sized steps and grab me. Maybe they would only want a hug . . .

I walked today and it was humid and I got back with sweat dripping off my nose and chin and running into my eyes.  Sometimes I apply Estee Lauder’s foaming skin cleanser to my face before I go. It goes on as a white cream and quickly turns transparent with increased skin warmth as your pores open up. (I usually look down when a car passes and the true transparent effect has not yet been achieved.) Your face feels a bit tingly and so clean when you wash it off. Now, sometimes, if you put it on too heavily, it will take a while to go transparent . . . and if you put on too much and it is very humid, your face will foam.

Fortunately, I decided I wouldn’t use it today.

Kindle/Amazon sends me emails about books there computer analysis thinks I might like. It is probably right on this suggestion, but the title and description made me think I didn’t want to spend $10 on an electronic version. This was a book I needed to hold and see sitting on my cluttered, over-sized window sill. And I bought the paperback edition for a whole lot less and Amazon Prime shipping.  It will come in two days and I am experiencing what the Whispernet Delivery of Kindle books has poached upon -eager anticipation. (Not that I don’t appreciate instant gratification; it’s me, AmeliaJake, after all.)

We didn’t know Andrew Barker of Kendallville, who passed away at age 46 on August 26, 2012 – didn’t know him at all. Didn’t know who his father was until the obituary was published.

Now we know: Reverend Dan Barker. We’ve written about him here – about an award he deserved a hundred times over.  All of us here are thinking of the family . . . feeling for the family.

If there were words, I would use them; sometimes, there are none.

Early in the morning I will pull out of my driveway so I can be at Lutheran Hospital’s professional building at 8:45 to see the surgeon about my parathyroid gland. That didn’t seem so early when I made the appointment three weeks ago.

I expect he will send me for an MRI and maybe even set a day for surgery – since my parathyroid hormone is in the mid to high one hundreds and normal is around 30. My calcium is high and my Vitamin D is “in the basement” and according to the internet, 99% of the time, this means a benign tumor of the gland.

It’s supposed to be a quick operation that most sites say will make me feel “so much better” even if “you don’t think you feel bad now.” Maybe out-patient; maybe overnight. I haven’t thought about it much, but then yesterday I wore my cow hat to the nursing home to see Kathryn and her roommate Clara and Clara laughed hoarsely because she had laryngitis.

Suddenly, I thought: CUTTING ON NECK BY VOCAL CORDS . . . LARYNGITIS???? AmeliaJake with laryngitis??? There could be a lot of cheering in the house . . . I guess I had better buy myself a big white board with a couple of markers – one in red to indicate Grandma is yelling.  

For a few days, my birthday present from LZP was lost in the mail . . .  BUT IT IS HERE NOW!!!!!!

He also sent a talking cow mug – that will take me a little time to get on video. See, you have something to look forward to.

It is soooo me.