1. Go look at the moon. It will be full and yellow due to its closeness to the earth and the bending of light by our atmosphere. Always good to appreciate pretty things. And … we won’t have another full moon on Friday the 13th until 2049. Better enjoy this one.
2. Celebrate this Friday as I do most Fridays: with a trip to the post office. Working from home has such hidden perks, you see.
3. Revel in a hot shower. On Sunday our hot water disappeared (literally), and we had zero water from the hot water faucet. Not hot, not cold, nothing. Cold water faucet was fine, but there was zero flow from the hot water faucet & both of our showers. Weird, right? On Monday morning, the hot water fairies smiled upon us and the hot water was back, from every hot water faucet. No clue what happened for the hot water to take a 12 hour vacation, but I’ll enjoy a hot shower on Friday, without benefit of a plumber’s bill.
4. Design a new end grain cutting board that doesn’t make Velda say I can only sell it in New Mexico. She’s tough to please, that one.
5. I’m doing an online demo with a prospect from Honolulu, who’s looking at our traffic system. I need to close the deal, and then find a way to be required to install the software personally. It could happen; it’s Friday the 13th. It could happen.
6. Don’t watch a horror movie. Of course, that’s something I don’t do EVERY day, but it’s definitely something I will not do to sully this wonderful day.
7. Buy a lottery ticket. Friday the 13ths are clearly the best for me.
8. Load the cars with Mrs M’s lotions (as well as the obviously nicknamed Mr M’s stuff) for the early departure to our event on Saturday. Come join us at Santa Clarita’s Touch A Truck event, which is to benefit the SCV Senior Center.
9. Enjoy this Friday the 13th, as it is the only one in 2014. Look forward to 2015, when there will be three!
10. Finish new blog post: “14 Things To Do On Saturday The 14th.” I feel a new series coming on.
11. Don’t take Velda out to dinner, as she didn’t accept my suggestions that we needed to keep the day clear. No, she’s buried in Mrs M’s preparations and has no time for me us. OK, no dinner out on Friday the 13th.
12. Remind Velda that I proposed 39 years ago today, on our first date – which was on a Friday the 13th. And that she’s still stuck madly in love with me.
13. When it’s 5 o’clock somewhere, lift a glass in celebration.
I’ve spent the weekend trying to do too much, and not getting it done. When I got to the end of my weekend, I discovered that my plan wasn’t going to work. I’d relied on a rough sketch and layout to base my design on … and it failed. I was trying to put too much stuff in too little space.
After days of thinking and days of building, what I had wasn’t going to work.
“Rough sketch” isn’t going to cut it anymore.
So, I need some design software that is easy for this woodworker to use. Something I don’t need a degree in … well, anything other than Speech & Dramatic Art … to know how to operate.
Oh, and it should be cheap enough that I can buy it, and robust enough to, uh, work.
Steve Ballmer, former CEO of Microsoft, has signed a binding agreement to purchase the LA Clippers from the Sterling Family Trust for $ 2 Billion. The Washington Post referred to Mr. Balmer as “kooky.”
I thought about writing a post on the LA Clippers. You’ve heard the story, perhaps?
The owner, Donald Sterling, was “secretly recorded” by his “girlfriend” making racist comments
That so-called “illegal recording” was used by the NBA to ban Sterling for life
The owner’s “estranged wife,” Shelly Sterling, was then authorized to sell the team
The owner has apparently been declared mentally incompetent by “experts,” clearing the way for an immediate sale
I had the beginnings of a blog post … but then I remembered.
You see, I forgot.
I forgot that I don’t care about professional basketball or the stupid antics of billionaires with more money than sense (perhaps literally, in this case).
Yes, that’s a 4″x4″ white bandage covering my head wound in our wedding pictures.
Yesterday, I posted a picture of our wedding party, taken 36 years ago. A couple of people commented about the bandage on my forehead … and here is that story.
We were going to be married on Saturday, May 13th. Our wedding day also happened to be the day I would graduate from college … but I was skipping that ceremony because we had to get married we wanted to get married on the 13th. Velda was born on a 13th, our first date was on a 13th … we would be married on the 13th.
Our life had a plan from that day. We would leave Columbia, MO in a couple of weeks for Steamboat Springs, CO, where I had secured us jobs working at a summer camp. After that “honeymoon,” we would move to Valencia, CA where I would begin graduate school at the California Institute of the Arts. Velda would get a job as a nurse’s aide, and then go to nursing school.
Good plan.
I had never visited CalArts, so I was understandably anxious about the transition. There was a college fair in St Louis the weekend before our wedding with a CalArts representative in attendance, so I decided to go to the Fair, meet the CalArts rep, and see if I could learn anything to help prepare myself for grad school.
Two of our St Louis friends wanted to go home for the weekend, and I could even stay the night at Sue’s parent’s house. So, Sue, Elsa and I took off for St Louis. Eight days before our wedding. Velda even approved.
Seven days before our wedding, I went to the college fair. I’m sure I learned nothing of consequence. But, I was facing big life changes, and I had a weekend to kill. Me and 2 single ladies. What could go wrong?
Six days before our wedding, it was time to return to Columbia, MO. Sue’s Mom, being a good college Mom, gave Sue a bag of groceries to take back to her apartment in Columbia. The bag went into the hatchback of my new Volkswagen Rabbit, and we set off for home. It was a Sunday afternoon.
Perhaps 30 minutes later, I made one of the worst mistakes of my life. I drove around a tight corner too fast, veered onto the wrong side of the road, and had a head-on collision with a half ton Chevy pickup.
Both my VW Rabbit and the Chevy truck were totaled.
The other driver was fine. Luckily, we all had on our seat belts. Elsa, in the back seat, was fine. I went into the steering wheel (it was 1978, long before air bags), fracturing my sternum and lacerating my forehead. 7 stitches, as I recall. And yes, I had an ER nurse call Velda and tell her that I was in the hospital due to a car accident, six days before our wedding. I was that guy.
Sue had been in the front seat, and seemed to be fine. However, after the ambulance arrived, it was clear that Sue wasn’t OK. She had to go to the hospital. Remember that bag of groceries in the hatchback? We later figured out that Sue had been hit in the back of the head with a pound of frozen hamburger. She apparently suffered a concussion.
Her folks met her in the ER. Sue was now in bad shape. And that is when the apocryphal event happened. Sue had been changed into a hospital gown for her exam. When the ER doctor walked into the room, Sue looked at him, raised her gown over her head, and screamed, “You can’t buy me, you son of a bitch!”
The doctor decided to keep Sue in the hospital overnight for observation.
Why wouldn’t he? Sue’s a cutie. (And, yes, I love the easy puns.)
I thank God that Sue’s “concussion-like symptoms” were gone the next morning. She and I were both discharged from the hospital that day, and we were both at the wedding five days later.
I don’t know about Sue, but I’ve never felt safe around frozen hamburger since.
According to our photographer, I needed encouragement to get in the church door. From left, Bill Hartman, me, and Michael Finney.
It was never a goal, believe me.
I knew I had some odd personality quirks. I felt like I needed to leave my small town to pursue my dreams, so I left my hometown (Graham, MO: population 213).
I thought I needed to find “the one” in a bigger place. After all, my laughable attempts at dating in high school hadn’t exactly been successful.
So I went to the biggest and best college I could imagine going to, the University of Missouri. And, in my first semester there, I met “the one.”
Even then, I didn’t discover that she was truly “the one” until several months later when I had worked up my courage and asked her out. We actually went on a date, and that was all it took. The match was made on our first date.
36 years ago today, I married a city girl.
History has proven that I made a good choice June 13, 1975 (our first date), and I believe it’s clear we both made a good choice on May 13, 1978.
Yes, we were that young. From left, Michael Heathcote (St Louis), Wild Bill Hartman (Barnard, MO), Michael Finney (Kansas City), me (Graham, MO), Mrs Mowry (Belleville, IL), her sister Linda (Belleville, IL), Ruth Kling (St Louis) and Christine Mackey (St Louis).
If you still run Windows XP on your computers for home or work … you need a new operating system. Now.
Microsoft no longer supports the software … which means there is no longer any development to improve the operating system. That might seem like no big deal when your computer is working just fine … but that will change.
The next time you buy a new printer … the driver may not be compatible.
And last week, a new security breach was found in the operating system. If you use Internet Explorer (like 56% of the world), and you use XP … the right hacker can get into your system. And what is Microsoft doing about it?
Nothing.
If you use XP, you need a new computer. Not only is the hardware aging, Microsoft has already left the software for dead.
I know one thing about your computer: some day it will die. Now, I know something about your XP computer: it is less secure today than it was a week ago. And it will never get better.
CJ Box is one of my favorite authors. Box is a native of Wyoming, and lives outside of Cheyenne with his wife and 3 daughters.
14 of his 18 novels feature Joe Pickett, a mystery-solving, accidental crime fighting Fish & Game Warden for the State of Wyoming. He loves nature, he loves solitude, he loves his family … and he’s got 3 daughters that he finds challenging.
No surprise there, right?
The latest novel is Stone Cold. Here’s where Joe and his wife Marybeth talk about their daughters:
“Oh,” she said, smiling wistfully, “life was so much easier when they were all my little chickens and I could keep an eye on them because they were close. Now Sheridan’s in another town, April’s going off the rails because of a cowboy, and Lucy wants to start dating. I feel like they’re drifting away from me.”
There were tears in her eyes, and Joe pulled her close. He said, “We’ve done all we can. You’re the greatest mother I’ve every been around – better than both of ours. Especially yours. They’ll be all right. You’ll be all right.”
“But I’ve lost control,” she said into his shoulder.
“That’s part of the deal, I think.” he said.
Indeed it is.
Little Girl is moving out today.
The nest is empty.
And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
That’s not to say the transition isn’t emotional. That’s not to say Little Girl didn’t ask me to tell Velda, because she didn’t want to.
That’s OK, she still did what she needed to do. Velda … well, she’s OK.
And Velda’s already ordered the bedroom set that will go into our new guest room. I think we’ll all be OK.
The headline is supposed to tell you why the story is important to you. Read the headline, and you should have a sense of what happened. Why you should read the story.
Sometimes headlines can be misleading, though. Wednesday morning, I got an email from Mom with this subject line:
I AM FINE!
What did I instantly know? That she was NOT fine.
Or perhaps her definition of “fine” has gotten a bit slippery of late.
Mom had trouble sleeping last night … well, she had trouble while sleeping, actually. She fell out of bed, lost her battle against gravity, and cut herself seriously when she bonked her head on the hardwood floor.
Luckily, she was prepared for just such an odd event. She pressed the button on her Lifeline necklace, and the police were contacted. They were at her door directly, called the ambulance, and they had her in the emergency room quickly.
7 stitches later, she was (almost) as good as new.
The story here, though, is that Lifeline was exactly what she needed. She had begun the service 3 years ago when she concluded it was time to have that safety net to help her whenever she might need it.
And last night was that night.
If you have loved ones that might need emergency help when they’re unable to make it to a phone, then they need Lifeline. If you live thousands of miles away like I do – or just hundreds of miles away like my sister – then your loved ones need Lifeline.
While Mom was in the emergency room, Lifeline called Mom’s designated numbers to tell both my sister and I what happened. Unfortunately, we didn’t answer our cellphones at 2am … but we both got calls. I first got word from Mom’s email, which I saw shortly after 6am … and it was then I knew that no matter what she might claim, she was not fine. Not really.
But the Lifeline worked, and she was OK. And that’s a wonderful thing.
Here’s the Graham Street Fair, circa 1958. I’m the one relaxing on the counter of the booth. Relaxing is something I did at the Street Fair. Don’t you love my cowboy shirt? When I went to the Street Fair, I was styling. The three ladies were running a game booth … a ball toss … as a fund raiser for the Good Luck Club. They are, from left, my Grandmother, Juanita Boring Mowry, Blanche Holaday Miller, and finally Thelma Wade Rowlett – now over 100 years old – who lives today in Savannah, MO. The little lady on the right is my sister, Mary Elizabeth Mowry. The boy on the bike is unidentified.
The past weekend was Mrs. M’s Handmade’s first retail event … a parking lot pop-up in Santa Clarita called the Street Fair.
I grew up in rural northwestern Missouri, near Graham, MO. Graham had an annual event called the Street Fair, and I thought that was the height of entertainment in the early 60’s. There was a parade with the high school marching band (the best band EVER). There were contests for the best quilt. A greased pig contest. A cake walk.
The Graham Street Fair didn’t take over a parking lot … it took over Main Street.
When I was a baby, I won for being the kid with the reddest hair. Well, actually, I would say that Mom won (HA). But she gave me the ribbon.
The Street Fair was a wonderful thing.
Flash forward, uh, 50ish years, and I went to a whole different kind of Street Fair last weekend.
This time, I didn’t win any prizes. And I definitely didn’t have the reddest hair at this Fair. It was the inaugural retail event for Mrs. Mr’s Handmade, though, and I did learn a few things:
1. In Santa Clarita, there are no marching bands at the Street Fair.
2. Food is not served by the nice ladies that are your neighbors. Rather, it’s served from gourmet food trucks.
3. In LA, “gourmet food truck” is not considered an oxymoron. The trucks have websites. They have fans. They have Truffle Mac & Cheese (yum).
4. You won’t see all of your neighbors at the Santa Clarita Street Fair. We only saw two people from our neighborhood. It’s a big world out there.
5. People don’t dress up to go to the Santa Clarita Street Fair. I didn’t see one cowboy shirt, and I didn’t see one kid laying down on a counter. Come to think of it, I didn’t see a counter, either.
6. No bicycles. I did see 3 skate boards … Penny boards, actually.
7. Mrs. M’s wasn’t the only store there offering handmade products, but we were on the more uncommon side. The sweet young ladies running the booth next to us sold unique handmade jewelry that they make for ankles & feet. They were good neighbors, and Little Girl even approves. Check out their website, here.
8. The lady across the way started her business because she was tired of buying cat clothing for her dogs. Doggie Custom Couture was born. I’m pretty sure that back in Graham, I never heard a complaint about not having suitable clothing available for dogs. Or cats, for that matter. Maybe that’s a Missouri benefit that I never knew: pets are properly (un)clothed in Missouri. Always. It’s only in California that there’s a problem (insert rim shot or snappy comeback of your choice, here).
9. Is this a good thing to hear when someone tries a lotion? “I might want to gnaw off my arm that smells so good.” When people start talking about eating body parts, I’m not on board. Self-cannibalism was never an issue at the Graham Street Fair.
10. The Santa Clarita Street Fair required each shade canopy to be weighted down with 100 pounds. Note the Graham booth in the picture, above: all wood construction, and no extra weights on board. (On board. HA. I kill me.) The result of our new fangled shade structures in Santa Clarita: an unweighted shade structure took flight. It was pretty, in the wind. I didn’t see it land; that would not have been pretty.
11. Our south side neighbor was a little odd on Sunday. Best dialogue we heard: “Are these dresses for little girls?” “No, they’re towels.” Remember, we’re in Southern California, 5 years ahead of fashion in the midwest. Just sayin’.
12. Heard from a vendor: “We’ve been doing this Fair for so long together, she’s going on vacation next month and I’m going to man her booth.” Now, that’s neighborly, and that’s a kind thing … in Santa Clarita.
13. Almost everyone walked by my cheese boards, and said “Ooo, pretty!” They touched them … and then they walked away. And so I learned, it’s not fun being the prettiest one at the dance if no one wants to take you for a spin.
At the end of the day, we had patrons ask if some people had gone home early. They expected more, you see. I guess this Street Fair was not the height of entertainment for them.
Mrs. M and Mrs. M, before they opened on their first day. Smiles on faces, and that is a very good thing!
