Well, I had not realized this although all day yesterday I knew it was the 12th and a Thursday. I wonder if Tim Russert thought about it when he got up this morning. I’m sorry; that thought just popped into my head when I clicked on the news and saw he had died.

Well, actually I am supposed to leave in about an hour – to take my daughter-in-law and my grandson to his doctor’s appointment – he’s the autistic one, to use some sort of diagnosis. His sister, who was riding roller coasters a week ago today, is going with us. We will pick him up at summer school at 12:10 pm, hope to get to his 1:15 appointment early, then go to the mall food court and I don’t know what else.

I have not yet showered; I have not done one thing to get ready. So, I am going to stick my head in the attitude/mood adjuster machine I ordered from a late night TV ad and see how well it works.

Darn, I believe it was a waste of money. Okay, time to do this the old-fashioned way. Count to three and get up

Four . . . oh, that’s not working either.

Okay, okay, time to put on my Super AmeliaJake suit and  . . . it seems to have shrunk.

I am at the point of last resort: have a silent little fit and then go off and get going.

Now this would be an interesting study: The Lab

When the limb went down and took out the phone line, I assumed the houses closer to the totally crushed line area would also not have phone service and that I did not need to call. Guess what? I am the only one without a phone . . . and I used my cell phone to call them when I figured this out.

Have you ever tried to call AT&T? It is so automated it is ridiculous, but I think I learned if you just keep pushing “0” , you will connect to an operator . . . who will tell you AT&T long distance and AT&T local are two different offices and they have secret numbers. The last part I made up.

The storm clouds in the previous entry did not keep coming toward us; instead they seemed to pull away and the move to the east. So, that was that . . . I thought. Driving back, I startled my companion by exclaiming, “Whoa!!”

Here’s why:

This, I think, is the result of a microburst. Everything else was fine. My mother experienced a microburst a couple of years ago – the walnut tree that leans at two o’clock.

Ah, yes, I dozed off during a History Channel show about Alaska, having set my alarm for 12:30 am. I awoke to the sound of my cell phone doing its song and vibrating like crazy on a wooden table. It was the Der Bingle contingent, calling to make sure I was up to go get the “person who went to Cedar Point” at 6 am and was scheduled to be in the school bus lot at 1:15 am.

She was a ball of tiredness, and as she slumped on the passenger seat, I was overcome by orneriness and said, “Summer, you’ve been dreaming of your trip to Cedar Point; time to get up and actually go.”

“Ohhhhhh, don’t do that to me.”

Sometimes what is sauce for the old stringy hen is sauce for the chick.

In the midst of staccato reports of her trip – the rides, the heat, her feet, the cost of drinks – I told her, “You know, your grandpa called to make certain we were awake to go get you on time.” And she gave me that “Of course” look back. She takes his concern for her for granted. That’s fine.

Here’s a vignette from a colder day:

Tree cohorts

Girl cohort

Back to the barn

Steak and Shake afterwards

My father suffered from Meniere’s Disease, which caused dizzy spells and in the last 10-15 years of his life, a great deal of hearing loss. So I know something about talking to an older person who can’t hear. I went out in search of things to help him keep in touch and this is about just one of them.

See this below? Of course you do.

It costs allows people who are hard of hearing to communicate in detail with another person. I don’t know how well it works on hearing other things. It cost $179 and is on this site.

I didn’t know it existed when my dad was alive. But Radio Shack had one like it they were selling for around $35. I got one and my father was able to hear every nuance of my conversation as I spoke directly into the microphone part. It was a really, really neat thing and especially helpful during the time he was ill and dying.

They still sold it up until a few months ago (Optimus brand, I think) but it no longer seems to be available. Frankly, I think a company saw great potential in them, did a little upscaling and now are selling them for many times the $35 price. However, you can start off with this:

$14.99 and look at it at this site.

Even this little device can be very helpful in allowing people to communicate. I have preached it to a lot of Boomers with deaf parents . . .

We checked the email here at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse and saw that Der Bingle had sent a reference to a certain newspaper article and remarked, “Words fail.” It is about the greenhouse effect and cow flatulence, and I have to add that everyone here is as speechless as he. Except for Norm, who guffawed and exclaimed, “Cow farts my eye.” Of course, I, AmeliaJake, shot him a “look” because I was always taught to say “passing gas” if I had to refer to the subject. To this day, if I utter the other word out of some desperate attempt to not seem a prudish old woman, I feel really, really sleazy, totally unwholesome and just a jerk.

People have told me for a long time that I have a talent for writing; I think, to some extent, that is true. And there are times when I like to just talk about things, to try and capture the feelings of a moment, the sincerity of a concern . . . to try and pass on someone’s thoughts and deeds to another.

I think one of the incidents that most moved me was when I wrote about a pilot who was shot down over German-occupied France in WWII. He was in a POW camp which was liberated by General Patton; he said the General looked at the men around him, pointed out that he did not look directly at him, and said, “Men, I’m proud of you.” He told me at that moment he would have followed Patton anywhere, anytime. Having a link to such a moment in history was sort of beyond the usual dimensions in which I live. It enlarged me.

But that wasn’t the part that moved me. That was when he told me of an experience he had after the article ran. He said he was up on his roof, fixing or checking something, and when he came down two young men were standing there . . . and they said, “We just want to shake your hand and thank you for what you did for us.”

Now, I thought that was something; that made me feel as if, in the smallest way, I had said “thank you” too.

But this blog, and others I have started . . . Why do I write? Yes, honestly, I guess it is part of me. But, most of all, I write for you, the one who does not read what I say here. I write because I hope you’ll get to know me maybe more thoroughly than you have before . . . Oh, shoot, now, when I need them most of all, words fail me.

Maybe it was destiny, but when I flipped on the TV this morning, I saw these cowboys shooting in black and white and I knew it was one of those old movies I had grown up watching, either on the early morning movie or the late show . . . before TV signed off with the National Anthem.

And I almost changed the channel.

I kept watching from moment to moment, though, without thinking why. I believe it was the sense of safety and comfort I felt in watching one of those old shows that you could watch with your grandmother without being embarrassed by language or sex scenes. Then Jimmy Stewart showed up . . . and someone called him Destry.

And Marlene Dietrich with “See what the boys in the backroom will have . . . ” And dialogue that actually had words that came out of a dictionary more advanced than “My First Word Book.” It wasn’t long before I realized I should make a morning trip to the bathroom . . .  But where were these AMC commercials I have been complaining about?  It’s been a long time since I waited for a commercial to do anything in today’s shows.