Mrs. Feller and I came home talking about the fact that Emory’s shoes were apparently stolen. He is now wearing his slippers. A couple of months ago it was his hearing aid that was lost. Jeez.

We turned off of Indiana 9 at the cow pasture where only about five cows were standing up and then passed a field of sheep and lambs. I did not realize it but some sheep have long tails, instead of little bobbed ones. And it was overcast, although the morning had dawned sunny. Yes, you are right; I am at loose ends this evening, wanting to be upbeat and yet a little tired. Feeling like chatting, but more comfortable with sitting and rocking . . . and sipping Diet Coke and Coke. Maybe, maybe a little bag of popcorn.

Well, when I was up in the bathroom, emptying out my pockets, I found I had a camera in one and put it down by the sink. No, this is not a water plus camera story . . . thank heavens . . . but it is an AmeliaJake on camera after water story.

When I was clean and my hair turbaned, I thought “What is it about this bathroom that I look better in it than anywhere else?” So I picked up the camera and took my picture; that’s when I found out it was the mirror – the mirror is magic. Right out in the air without a reflection, I have wrinkles, blotches, and facial hairs. I tried it again with the same result. I was bummed.

Then I had a thought. I decided to download a couple and enlarge them and examine my face up real close. No one had told me only trained professionals should attempt such a thing. Old pores are about as ugly as self-pity, and that was a pool I was about ready to plunge right in to.

But I got a grip and grabbed some tweezers and some moisturizer – pluckin’ and creamin’, oh yeah.

Yes, when I call my mother tonight I will tell her that I have another afghan – from the Goodwill, of course.  There are very few times when I am on Dupont Road that I do not stop in to see what is on the shelves and racks in the Goodwill Store. My true weakness is afghans; I know someone made them and they are so comfy. Today I found a fairly good-sized one for $3.

I also saw a comforter made with satin; it is one big “feeler” if you want to describe it in AmeliaJake little girl terms. For years I feel asleep with my left thumb in my mouth and the satin of a blanket in my right hand. I still seek out “feelers” on my blankets to this day. But I was not interested in the satin comforter – I have been that route before.

When I was a teenager, we ferreted out one from the pile of things my great-great aunt had left off in the side attics at our house. It seemed like such a good idea; I could feel my arms and hands and neck being caressed by the satin. But it slid off  – both me and the bed. I spent a good deal of time just pulling it back up in the middle of the night when I awoke cold. Once I flopped down on the bed in the afternoon and slid right off the other side. As it turned out, there were more negatives than positives and we packed it back in the side attic. I don’t know where it is now.

I think we can always find a use for afghans, however. For instance, a loosely crocheted one is great for learning how to watch scary movies without having a blanket over your head – I suppose it is sort of a 12 stitch program.

Okay, sometimes things turn out really well. This morning was one of them. But let me set this up:

My mother, Sarah (nicknamed Toots) had a sister – Lucile – some 18 years older than she. Stanley was the brother they shared who was in high school when Mother was born. It was Lucile, by the way, who gave Mother her nickname. Many times I heard the story of how she came in the house and Mother was swaddled and lying in the Morris chair – October 11, 1926.

Lucile married in 1928 but didn’t have a child until 1932 when Freddie – the prettiest baby in LaGrange County –  was born. Then in 1935, Ruby was born. They lived in a little house across the road from Grandma and mother and did not have as many trees, so on hot afternoons, Lucile would bring Freddie and Ruby over for their naps.

Anyway, they went through the Depression together – and during the War, Ruby inherited Mother’s old bike because they weren’t making any then.

That was a long time ago and my mother knew Ruby was coming to a nearby town last evening; Ruby had told her she wanted to come out and sit on the back porch. I talked with Mother this morning and she said she hadn’t heard a word. We hung up and just a couple of minutes later, Ruby came in through the back door.

I think that is great – 2008 or 1942 – Ruby came into her grandma’s house as if there were no such thing as time. The scent of the woodsmoke in the walls, a lot of the same wooden tables, a lot of the same old skillets and silverware. Grandma’s things, her mother’s things, Mother’s things, our things, family.

I don’t know if I believe in Heaven or not, but today I sure hope it is so. It would have so pleased Grandma and my Aunt Lucile to hear that screen door of home opening this morning.

I was out in the driveway with my camera and first I took a picture of the lilac bush over the fence.

And then as I was walking to the street, I turned and snapped the northwestern corner of the house through a flowering tree.

Turning back toward the street, I looked up at the old maple and got another picture.

Now, at this point I turn and look down the sidewalk to see if Summer is coming. Behind me I hear a thwack and when I look, I discover a large limb has fallen out of the tree and landed about six feet from me.

Gee, I remember they said the number one cause of death in the woods of the Midwestern frontier was falling tree branches . . . but this is 2008, Mr. Maple Tree, and I am almost taking this personally.

I’m going to go tell them in at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse. Why that limb was as big around as the hulk’s arm. I figure in a couple of years the size of the limb in the telling of this story will be “about half a redwood”.

The tornado in Picher, Oklahoma. Okay, obviously I’m on a Jim Cantore kick here. We have been interested in watching Jim since “back in the day” and one time my son saw him behind a desk and exclaimed, “Look, it’s Jim Cantore in a building!” Now, that was news.

Hey, THIS (and HERE is the actual site page where you can enter a year) is a cool place to visit if you are interested in history. I’ve been sitting here plugging in ancestors’ names and seeing where they fall on the list of popular names for that year. Ida was popular when my great-aunt Ida was born. When I was in high school, there wasn’t one Ida in my whole class. Hey, I forgot to check my name . . . Okay, my name wasn’t popular then; I knew that.* However, the list looks as if it were taken from my class yearbook.

*Around number 500 on the list for girls; close to 600 on the list for boys.

Quentin, you were around 400; and, Robert, you were 5 – but then you were named for your grandpa. Bing, tell your buddy he was, I think, 10.

Well, a couple of the patrons at the Peanut Butter Cafe & Roadhouse, who are actually more family than patrons, have gotten whiff of the little chatter I’ve had going here at The Leaning Cow. I suppose it was unwise of me to provide free wi-fi.

To tell the truth, yes, a couple did get whiff of it – but they didn’t hesitate to share the news with the regulars and it has been interesting around here. And surprising. People have started reminding me of things in their lives – like the funny things their kids or grandkids have done. Or the time the road washed out and the triplet red-headed Grady girls were born just shy of Two Tree Pass on the old Jamison Road. They called in the medic helicopter and the pilot landed in the barley field and took mother and babies to the regional hospital. Dad Grady got through when Dick Smith dirtied up his new Hummer to make his way up the washout to pick him up . . .  Stories like that, dontcha know.

Joan is even talking about getting a new picture of our cow that leans and came right out and said we ought to give her a name. I said I thought her name was the leaning cow  – kind of generic like – but she’s bound and determined to get a committee organized to decide on a name. Of course, that is reassuring to me since the cow will probably be in a heavenly pasture by the time the committee agrees on who’s doing what, let alone a name.

Dustin was sipping his cola and munching his jelly crunch foldover when he wondered if maybe people wouldn’t be able to leave their stuff on their regular tables anymore. I told him I didn’t think he had anything to worry about . . . especially with Friday, our dog who pretty much guards things. Well, he doesn’t so much as guard as remind – bark, bark . . . you’ve left your hat – bark, bark . . . time to pick up the kids from cheerleading, football, basketball, baseball, you-name-it practice – bark, bark – time to jiggle the finicky mechanism on the ice machine.

Which was an issue Susan broached: “If you’re going to be telling what’s going on here at the PBC&R, won’t we get in trouble for having Friday in here? Him being a “dog” and all.” Friday gave her a bit of a look right at this time and she nodded to him and said, “Now, Friday, you know I didn’t mean anything by that.”

We decided that it isn’t going to be a problem because, well, nobody here is actually going to acknowledge seeing him and Friday has agreed to act as if he is unaware of anyone when a stranger pops in. He let us know he’ll be so inconspicuous, people who thought they saw him would think he was a Wednesday.

Some of the folks think I should fancy the place up a bit, but heck, I’m just going to leave things as they are. And that includes the screen door out to the porch. It’s wooden and a little warped and you kind of have to give it a little kick to get it moving. Course, on the other had a good breeze and a strong spring will make it slam loud enough to get your attention and fast enough to hit you in the butt.

And that would be the end of this update.

I found this in a drawer where I keep special things from the past; I can’t remember what the letters stand for, but I’ll bet someone does.