Like Riding A Bicycle - Like Writing A Blogg

The question needs to be asked. Is returning to blogging like riding a bike? You truly never forget how to do it.

Next question on my growing list is: What if you were never a great (good or even mediocre) bicycle rider to begin with or for that matter that great (good or mediocre) writer/blogger, how much worse could you be upon returning for yet another attempt? Right. Who really knows and for that matter who really cares?

Not all blogs are of that important a nature or their writer's that concerned with who is reading it or even why. Maybe the reader just can not sleep and doing something is better than tossing and turning. It is said that reading can put one to sleep. (Little known fact, sometimes writing has the same effect.)

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Sorry about that. Where was I? Oh, yes. Bicycles and Blogging.

I really loved my bike as a child. Was never a good bike rider but loved the bike anyway. It did give me a small feeling of freedom, but when you are only allowed to ride around two small city blocks, what is there to love. I was also known to have extremely skinned up knees, elbows and what ever else met hard sidewalks and/or stony alleyways.

I really love my blog. Granted it is just a bit off center (yes the pun is intentional) as well as all over the place, which is just like my thoughts. (Could be caused by the fact that I am a Gemini or at my advanced age a suffer of undiagnosed ADD) Which ever it proves to be, I do find some solace in seeing my thoughts written out before me.

I do not intend to impart offence to anyone by blogging these random thoughts, so please accept this apology now, in case you are offended. I would highly suggest that you search (Google) for a blogg or bloggs that will more mirror your personality and "ditto" your thoughts. This is not a blogg for that.

Been many years since I have attempted to ride a bicycle and it will be like never again in the future that I will attempt to ride one. As I tell my Honey-bun (husband), I am not completely stupid here.

Seeing that it has been a year since my last post and now here I am attempting this once again - well, not being completely stupid, there are times I have been known to be a complete nut-job. This may just be one of them.... Anyway, here is to a return of Thoughts that are Just a Bit Off Senter.

Dear Ms Anniebelly Bossybritches

 Hi, I am Jelli Bean, but you may call me Jelli or Bean. I have heard a lot about how you just seem to know how to handle your misbehaving brothers, Howie Pee and Java Cheesybritches and I need help.

As the sister of AJ HoosierHugPug ;o], who seems to have the reputation of being a tough Grilla-Guy and does not want any of his buddies, like Howie, Java, Louie or CurlieMoe know he may just have a soft spot for his new sissyfur… ME!

Now, look at this face! I ask you, how could he not just love me? My problem is I want to play and he just keeps running from me. Now I chase him and want him to chase me but he just won’t. I love to play and so does he but right he won’t play with me. What can I do….

Oh, AJ has a special name for me, Wigglebutt Barkiebaby, I think that means he really loves me but just don’t want to let it show. I know I love him and my forever moms & daddy.

Moms said I should ask you for advice on how to help AJ realize how much he really loves me too. I will watch for you advise and remain AJ’s, cute, cuddly baby sissyfur,

Jelli The Bean

Hey Moms ~ I Love Wet Weeds

Need any more be said. Little Pug-man AJ HoosierHugPug  just loves walking, crawling and rolling in wet weeds.

Waiting for Summer 2009

Sand and surf at the ready for the arrival of Summer 2009

On a gray, cool overcast June 2nd, the Lighthouse at the Harbor into Michigan City stands tall and silent as it awaits the riotous days of boaters, water skiers and swimmers.

Pleasure craft moored in the Washington Park Marina are also waiting to the days of Summer while a lone Seagull seems to be looking for the direction to  the nearest food supply.    

The air temperature on this cool June day never reached 65 degrees. With only 12 weeks for a ‘Summer Tourist Season’, warmer temps need to arrive soon and stay a spell.

For us locals, this is still one of the most beautiful sights God has blessed us with.  This quiet time allows us to enjoy this blessing to it’s fullest.

Good Intentions

Every day I awake with the resolve that today I will write an entry in this blog.

With drink and food near by, (I am actually working now from the kitchen table, how convenient can we get?), I open and fire up my new techno toy, the Acer Aspire One Netbook. Oh, had I not mentioned this new addition. Of course not that was a blog I meant to write three or four days ago….   

Pictured here is the exact likeness of this wonderful new toy. Only to my great surprise and enjoyment, this is no toy. And it is my intention to use this to not only blog regularly but to respond more efficiently to emails and other net needs, what ever those may be…

But as you can see, my problem is that I get distracted very easily. Once again, my good intentions have been led astray.

I am not sure if I suffer from ADD (Attention Deficit Disorder) since at 66 years of age, can one suddenly be a victim of this disorder. Or could I have been suffering for all these years and just not known what to call it? I always blamed my ease to become board and distracted to the fact I am a Gemini and have dual personalities…

See this is just what I was trying to say. I intended to blog on one thing and have gone spinning in two or more other directions.

Well I did have good intentions. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to concentrate more and give full devotion to this bog… Or maybe not.

My Daddy Is Only A Picture

This is the only way I have ever known my Dad. As a picture Mom had hung on a wall, and in stories she shared with me.

There were not too many of the stories as Mom and Dad had married during World War II, just before he was to ship out for foreign lands.

Dad was a Chief Petty Officer in the United States Navy and a gunnery expert. He had been stationed in Michigan City, Indiana where there was a gunnery school as an instructor. Mom told how they had met at a local dance held for the men stationed here.

With his orders to ship-out the young lovers wed at Great Lakes Naval Station in Great Lakes, Ill., north of Chicago. It was not long before Mom’s was “with child”.

In January 1943, Dad, who was now stationed at the San Diego Naval Base preparing to ship out had been called to defuse a large gun on a battle ship during training maneuvers. According to articles in the newspapers, the gun had misfired and when Dad had reached to release the safety on the gun, the live shell had already began to spiral backwards and exploded. He suffered massive internal damage.

Mom traveled to be at his side and on February 2, 1943, George R. Novak, U.S. Navy, weighed anchor for his journey home. Dad had wished to be buried at sea and respecting this, he remains lay off the coast of San Diego at the U.S. Naval Station.

I made my debut on May 25, 1943. Three months and 23 days after his death.  According to legend, Dad had told my Mom that if I was a boy not to name me after him. But if I was go be a daughter, to  be named Georgette. (She was upset that I would be named after some “stinky material.” Wish she could see just how expensive this material is today!)

Though I never met my Dad and only know him through my Mother’s memories, I was and am proud to call myself a Navy Brat.

I still recite at sunsets, “Red at night, sailor’s delight. (A sign of fair weather to come) Red in the morning, sailor’s take warning. (Not so smooth sailing ahead.)

As a toddler I was given the honor to lay a wreath on the waters of Trial Creek on Memorial Day to honor our Naval Heroes. Today, 66 years and 23 days after offering his life that I may live in a country of Freedoms, I stand to salute you, Dad, and all the men and women who have sacrificed so much for we, the few.

Mom’s stories were far too few and over the years her memories grew even more painful to recall. Dad is a hero but I salute my Mom for the courage she had to continue with their dream.

They are together at last and I pray they look and see a daughter they can be proud of today as we Honor all our Heroes.

Simple Saturday

Remember when we looked at Saturday almost like Christmas. This magical day when we could sleep in pass the alarm. A day we knew there would be no classes, no homework and we could stay up so late… way pass the late news.

It was also the day for clean sheets on the beds and the fresh smell of Pine-sol on the floors.

Sounds of a pinging bell from the Texaco Station across the street would float through the open window along with the intoxicating fumes of freshly pumped gasoline. There would several young boys with their rides (cars) parked near the work bays with the hoods up, standing look deep within the innards of the auto. Mack, the “auto guy”, would help these boys with changing spark plugs or tightening belts. Sometimes, we would see one of the younger boys run to a pump to help pump the gas for Mack, while he worked his magic under the hood so the boys could “cruise” later that evening along the “drag.”

Oh yes, these were the Simple Saturdays! Yes there are times I really long for those Simple days again.

Blessings

Signs that the long Sleep of Winter is over.

Life returns to a slumbering earth.

Those in love begin to think of wedding bells

The first signs that the warmth of Summer is just around the bend.

From the first glimpse of Poppy buds, my heart seems to pump just a little faster. I know that soon the Rice Paper like petals will soon blaze their Orange glow across the edge of our lawn.

For weeks I have not allowed anyone near the tender shoots with weed choppers or mowers for fear of losing the beauty about to be born here and having to wait another 365 days.

Oddly there are no imperfect blooms. Just the glowing orange red with the deep purple eyes greeting the warm Sun of Spring. Sadly it seems I am not the only one who waits for this Heavenly display each Spring. As I try to daily chronicle the progress of each bud to bloom, with hopes that they will form seed pods to insure next year field of splendor, I notice large holes where entire plant has either been ripped or dug from their home.

To whom ever is in such dire need of this Gift from God, they have a surprise as these flowers can not be transplanted and  grow only from the sowing of their seeds. I doubt that they , whom ever they are, will even read this much less any thing to learn about Poppies.

So I will try yet again, as God will allow, to wait until next Spring to count His blessings in my field of Orange.

Two Wrongs Do Not Make One Right

Do not hide your wrong doings behind our children. Imagine where they could be today had you not done away with these programs in the first place.

For as long as I can remember my home town, Michigan City, Indiana, offered career courses at our high school.

I grew up with Isaac C. Elston High School and St. Mary’s Roman Catholic High School as the only available institutions of higher learning before either college or entrance into the work-world.

At Elston (City) there were “Shop” courses offered in Automotive as well as Machines. While not wanted to stoop to the “Back in my day…”, but in the late 1950s and early 1960s a young man or woman could graduate high school and be equipped to enter a job in a factory, office or even begin a family having taken Home Economics, typing, shorthand and bookkeeping, as well as be ready to head to college.

The A.K. Smith Center, was home to a complete auto shop where students as well as residents could take their cars to be worked on, from oil changes to complete transmissions replaced.

It was in the early 1990s that teachers as school administrators decided that these types of courses were not pertinent for our young people as to preparing them for life after school. Not everyone is potential college material. Not everyone wants to be college material. But in not preparing our young to take a place in society unless they go to college, we have built generations of seemingly hopeless and helpless citizens. We have equated their value to a piece of paper that in many cases is not even worth the ink it is printed with. 

Michigan City Area Schools (MCAS) has a history, recent history, of not really providing a well rounded education for the children of the school district. More worried about appearance then content.

Now, unable to admit they, (Administrators and teachers) rushed to eliminate programs that helped equip young people to enter into a work-world, they added to the fry many students that are presented a diploma that may not have the skills needed to read said diploma or even understand what that parcel of paper signifies beyond “party time.”

Shame on all of you who now hide behind the banner of wanting to help the “children”, when you have been far more involved with – class size, number of “teacher days” or what ever has preoccupied your thoughts while children have sat in classes un-taught and learning that no one really cares.

You also want the Taxpayers in the MCAS to give you the go-ahead to spend nearly $40 million dollars to rectify your screw-ups.

We all love these children and know that are not just our future, they are our NOW! But two wrongs will not make this or anything else right.

Vote NO on Tuesday, May 19!

Made the Cut

A few weeks back I was asked to submit several paintings, along with other members of the Michigan City Art League, for possible inclusion in the groups new brochure.

I offered two watercolor pencil works, the one above and my latest attempt of catching the spirit of my pug, AJ. Never in my wildest imaginings did I think either would have a chance.

First, I am not a watercolorist in any shape or form. Second, I am just overjoyed when anyone looking at one of my endeavors can even begin to recognize what it is I had tried to draw and paint.

Well, just today, May 12, I got a call from Rose Petersen, president of MCAL to inform me that my Spring Dune was picked to be in the new brochure.

Pinch me… I think I am still dreaming. This has given me a resolve to keep trying to expand my inner artist. It is so easy to become discouraged, when we look at our work through our own eyes. So often we are our own worse critics.

Thank you Rose and MCAL for this honor and from the bottom of my heart I will never be able to tell you or show just how much this has meant to me. It came just when needed the most.

Wanderings Of An Aging Mind

Also Known As ~ Life Is A Crap Shoot

As many already have guessed, I am not among the clearest of thinkers and confess openly to being of the Senior Generation.

Most of this week after Easter has been a blur. Do in part to my battle with a Spring Flu-Bug. Add into this mix an aging (rapidly) mind and other, “out side influences”, it is often a surprise that I am thinking at all. But then my wanderings here could be proof positive that I am not and should be or could be helped by being placed in a, “home.”

As you may have guessed by the name of my blog, I do have a tendency not to always hit the bulls-eye in my ramblings. I am literally “just off center.”

Even AJ HoosierHugPug seems to have rolled a “snake-eye”, in his attempt to beat the house odds. Perhaps he needs to hang out with some one graced with more luck than I?

Now, where was I again? Right, Spring Flu and wanderings of my fevered aged mind.

Easter Sunday was a bright, sun filled day, with just a slight chilly hint that Winter wanted to linger a bit longer. Monday and Tuesday. found Winter’s bad boy, chilly rain, drenching any post holiday plans. It was during a fitful rainy-day nap on Tuesday that this Spring Bug caught me in his grip and is refusing to let go.

Wednesday & most of Thursday were total losses to wild bouts of stomach-tossing and fevered sleep. The haze of days where dotted with futile attempts from Tom, the hubby, trying to force Pepto Bismo, Alka-Seltzer and food into me.

Like most animals, excluding human males, I just wanted to die alone, with hopes anyone coming upon my remains would respect my last wishes.

Not only to my surprise but those of the hubs, I seem to have survived the worse of this bugs attack and will recover to pre-Spring-flu condition.

Not right on center, just off Senter a bit. But then, like most of us, this could be your “normal” too.

Spring Returns Home

Spring is known as the time of re-birth. Renewal of the promise of life.

It is also a reminder of home, family and hope.

Some families keep close and seemingly tight ties from one unit to the next. Daily contact and weekly gatherings are their norm.

Some families have a looser bond. A monthly phone call or even the once a year card for the big holiday or maybe if lucky a birthday.

Which ever the situation there is the ties to a firm corner stone called family that in times of need, trouble, doubt and hopeful expectation we turn to for the strokes and hugs of the familiar.

More important is knowing, no matter what, no matter how far, no matter how long since one has left there is always a road home.

There will always be a hug to greet and a warm plate of food. A bed to rest and a shoulder to snuggle into for comfort.

Home may not have the answers to your questions or woes, but home hold no judgment and allows you to grow. Home is where we seek refreshing time and to know that the roots are still supporting us when we feel alone.

A personal rule I strive to live by is this; There are no strangers here, only family we have yet to meet.

As long as there is a Sun, Moon and the heavenly stars, there will be a Spring. A reminder of life, past, present, and the promise of what is to be.

Yes, thankfully, like the Seasons, we all can find our way home. Again and again and again.

Lining the Bird Cage

Personally, I am not a technophobe.
Over the weekend I even graduated to an iPhone.
So I could feel connected to my virtual community of the ehterworld no matter where I presently am at, with FaceBook, Twitter, MySpace and every form of instant messaging, for fear my noisy want to be informed life will miss out on something BIG.

I am also one who feels totally lost with out my newspaper. On the days my Trib is not in the yard I am disoriented and lament how I will ever be able to fall asleep with out the late night reading of my paper. When customer service tells me our account will be credited for the missed paper, through gritting teeth I explain, "I just want my paper, now!"

Sadly, rough times and "economic instability" hits everywhere and everyone. It was announced today, March 24, 2009, that another newspaper will abandon it's print edition and be an online only news source. http://tinyurl.com/chuwrx

I love my online news and as stated am not afraid of entering, living and functioning in the new age of technology. I rejoice daily that we no longer have to rub two sticks together in order to cook our food or warm our dwellings.

I love our Rain Forests and lose my breath at the grandeur of a Giant Redwood. I cry for the Polar bears and the disappearing of any species of life. That is why it is so sad to see even one aspect of the news media being tossed to the wind so to speak.

Where and with what will be fashion our paper airplanes or those tiny sailing ships that float in the basin in Central Park?

What will those who are or will be sleeping under bridges use to cover and warm themselves with? I personally can not envision them wrapping a laptop or iPod around their feet to keep warm.

Rover will soon need to be "laptop" trained in the quest of being "housebroken", and Tweetie's bird cage will be lined with an Apple Nano!

And Civilization as we know it will never be again!

Brushing Up The Brush Strokes

A humble attempt to capture the character and personality of my pug~love, AJ. Besides being my second best buddy, he is my muse and true confidant.

Wisdom of the Dynasties

At last the brushes seem to be willing to follow my commands. This is not usual for me and watercolors. I have found that most of the time I end up with a "gray like" blob that I try to explain was to have been either a country escape landscape or reflections of a vase of Summer flowers.

Here is my attempt at "loose" use of watercolors that I have called Spring Gold.

Thank goodness as I was working on this my husband at least knew he was looking at "yellow flowers."

It has been too long since I had even looked at my paint box much less picked up a brush, but that goodness the paints were not dried out and the brushes still we soft.

The Michigan City Art League and a great friend, Mary Bolinger has given me hope that I may still be able to enjoy brushing up my brush strokes! Thank you so much for being just who you are!

---

This photo was my inspiration
for AJ's portrait.

I still want to do this in oils/acrylics

l

Hard Work + Love = Special Treats

AJ HoosierHugPug enjoys the Snow Patrol

He dreams of the special treats he earns for doing the job of keeping cats out of his yard.

It is a long and never ending job as those cats can be hiding behind the next snow mound!

Thoughts of the Chicken Livers sautéing on Moms stove fortifies the working pug to push on!

The aroma greets AJ, sending tantalizing sensations through out this excited pup!
"Oh boy! I am all set for this!," thinks the salivating Pug.

After being told that the livers need to cool, dad suggest they take a ride.
"Oh Boy! This is really my lucky day!," AJ barks.

There is nothing like Puggie Love as AJ snuggles with moms on his ride.
"This is the life! Hugs from moms and chicken livers to eat when we get home!"

"Ah! Now I can just relax and dream of what I will do when I catch that cat! Wonder if moms will give me a whole chicken when that happens!"

Snow and More Snow

Images from the latest Lake Effect Snow that has been hitting us for 24 hours now. It is still falling. Even if we wanted to surrender no one would see the waving of a white flag. Think about it!

Snow Birds (aka Wintering in the South)

Canadian geese march through Washington Park as if on a holiday picnic. Hundreds of geese and "wild" ducks have come to reside year round on the Southern Shores of Lake Michigan as locals have fallen into what could be a bad habit of feeding the flocks of once migratory birds.

Here three geese head for the parkinglot as vistors drive through the park and despense bread and corn to the hundreds of geese that gather to block the road ways. The birds have become to acoustomed to human contact that many will approach your car, eat from you hand and always try to imped your forward movement.

In the frozen waters of the boat basin two geese stroll across the ice as they head for the roadway and scraps of bread and corn.

Flocks of geese and ducks huddle on the ice and under the now winter abandoned piers to protect themselfs from the cold fridged North wind that whipps across the frozen Great Lake Michigan during the long winters in Northern Indiana.

As a way to provide fresh water for these water fowl the port authority has allowed a "bubbler" pipe to run in a small area for the birds to have the ability to drink, and continue to eat the plankten and fish that come into the basin.

Late Tuesday afternoon (4:30 p.m. CST) a Winter Storm sent Lake Effect snow back into the area. This is a photo of our side yard that has been white since early December. By 11 p.m. CST there had been an additional seven inches of snow added, with predictions of at least another seven to ten before dawn on Wednesday.
The frozen fingers of winter seem to not want to release their grip on our homes gutters, as snow continues to fall and temperature again plunge below zero wind chills.

Frozen Crimson Beauty

During a recent snow storm it seemed like nothing living could or would be caught out in the depths of the wind, snow and sub-zero climate. But somehow these Crimson beauties still sang their song of praise from the Bittersweet bushes that grow wild in the woods.

On the same day the birds sang we watch from the warmth of our home as a "tailless" cat may have been stalking his dinner. All though he really did not appear to have missed too many dinners at all!

There is a family of "Feral" Cats living in the woods, but we are not sure if he/she is a part of this most secretive clan.

Michigan City Santa Parade 2008

Baby it was cold outside. But the brave of heart and spirit would not give in. Maybe we should try having Christmas in July...

Summer Sounds Remembered

I love the sounds of summer. From the quite pre-dawn calls of the woodland birds to the mid-day clamor of youngsters at play. There is just something different about Summer Sounds.

Weekends that begin with the swoosh and swash of a push lawn mower, or the zroooming of a power mower that continue with the spit -spat of the sprinkler set to encourage the next weeks growth, lend to the ear a different meaning of life.

Time seems to hang, almost suspended and surreal, as you hear the clink and clank of swings and the giggles of youngsters as they spray themselves and each other with the cold relief of a garden hose.

As evening approaches there come the tingling sound of bells, mixed with calliope music that grows ever louder and then the gleeful shrill, "The Ice Cream Man," resounding a call of attack from every yard for blocks.

There is that quite time just as the stars of Summer begin to dot a darkening sky, then the soft coo of a dove calling to her mate to return home for the night. Silence that is broken by the distant song of a far off train carrying people and produce to far away dreamed of destinations.

These are the Summer Sounds memory has held for dreams.