Emojis !?!?!?

Maybe it's that thing about learning a different language when you're older. I can pick up a bit here and there, no problem. But the rest?  They are an artificial language, one in pictures. You might think they'd be easier to understand. In fact I wonder if they weren't designed for the illiterate among us, too uneducated to read, to understand large and subtle concepts, so lets communicate in pictures instead. Our ancient ancestors did,  telling stories on cave walls with animals and stick figures.

When they started out, they were just yellow circle faces, replacing what we were trying to convey by adding shapes of non-alphabetical keyboard options to make faces. Smiley face, the first. Then frowning. Puzzled. Angry. So many of us have been familiar with these yellow faces from those posters with all the different expressions to help sort out what we're feeling. You know, because we're not actually taught for the most part about feelings, just told to stuff them and get on with whatever our duties are. Finish our homework. Go to work. Obey whoever is in power over us. Yield to whatever our religious teachings, and those who teach them, say. We get into trouble from stuffing those feelings, so face drawings help us dig them out.

They started getting more complex. Sometimes the drawings were puzzles. You had to study them to find the difference from the last one, like just how widely open the mouth was compared to that other one which meant something else. Were the ones with tears with different mouths crying, or laughing so hard they got tears? That's when some of us started needing translators. But it just kept getting more complicated.

The hands weren't so bad. Praying hands, obvious. Clapping, thumbs up or down, raised fist, middle finger raised, all easy to get since we actually do communicate that way. It just didn't stop however. For a few you needed to know ASL, like the extended thumb, index and pinkie fingers, meaning "I love you." Red hearts said the same thing, even adding flourishes. I still mentally read them as "heart" like for that TV show Bob Hearts Abishola. Still not sure about the unicorns though: happy childish fantasy? Irrationality?

I looked at a long row of emojis a couple days ago which had animals, fruits, buildings, each a new level of confusion. Hey, I get the pile of poo. Who doesn't, though I wonder does it really need a smile? "I'm happy to call you a piece of shit?" But who on earth decided to use an eggplant? First, I've not yet seen an actual eggplant in that shape. The ones in the stores tend to be rounder, fatter, less long or curved. You can tell it's an eggplant emoji from the color it's drawn in. So what did it mean? Were they hungry? Pushing veggies in the diet? When the snickers started, I figured it out what they were trying to say, or perhaps just what somebody decided it ought to be translated as. Sort of a "here's a picture, what shall we do with it?" But I still don't get why the eggplant is supposed to represent a penis. A spherical thing is supposed to be a cylindrical thing? A bent thing is supposed to represent a straight thing - uh, except when it's a carrot in a commercial for something horrible to be prevented? Something huge is supposed to fit where... well, you get the puzzlement. Why not a mushroom of more appropriate proportions? When they added a peach, complete with more snickers, I just greeted it with resignation. Somebody out there is just sick. Repressed. Dismissive. And badly, badly in need of some sex education.

But now buildings? It's bad enough trying to figure those out, but worse, each presents in about a 3/8 inch size when added to rows of text in an attempt to communicate better than words, or add emphasis. I can see just enough to figure out it is a building. But what kind? House? Store? police station? Library? I have no clue. The details - I can see there are details - are too tiny. WTF are you trying to say? And why this way? 

Some of these are so obscure the only message coming across is, "Hey, I'm a member of the in group and you aren't." We humans are already so expert at sending that message that many people spend large portions of their lives saying it in every way possible. We certainly don't need another way to do that, but when has that ever stopped people? Some of the obscure ones might just be saying, "See how unique and creative and smart I am that I developed this and you don't get it?" They'd be worth the admiration if what they developed actually was comprehensible. Communication is supposed to be just that, comprehensible. 

One that is comprehensible to me, delighting in the snark of it, is a coupling of two emojis, tater tots and pears. It's a way of mocking the way so many people, rather than doing anything, even simply speaking up, to end a bad situation like gun violence (to name just one) offer others their "thoughts and prayers." Not a hug for the ones grieving, not sitting down to talk with them, find out how they're doing, offering a listening ear. Big help, eh? Just "tots and pears". It's for when you are too helpless to give actual comfort, but want to rely on your faith to pretend things are OK when they aren't, it's all you (think) you have to offer and think it means something. It's also for when you really have no major problem but are out garnering sympathy over nothing and don't deserve any, you may get tots and pears, folks. A little nothing  for a nothing problem. Ironically, at least the foods have a use. Nutrition. Comfort food even. 

Who knows what's next from emojis? I certainly am years behind. Besides not understand so many of them, I don't even use them. Never saw the need to figure out how. I'll just go on happily typing away, communicating the old fashioned way.  : )   : )   : )

This & That: Rant & Relaxation

First the rant. Sarah Huckabee Sanders (remember her? One in a long line of people lying for Trump from the White House Press Podium) challenged herself with a little public speaking the other day, commenting on the end of Roe v. Wade. She claimed that now kids in the womb will be as safe as kind in the classroom. 

!?!?!?!?!?!?!

Did she hear herself?  OMG Really? Would that be the Sandy Hook classroom? Uvalde? Both those schools have/had to be torn down because the surviving kids and teachers are too traumatized to go back inside them. How about any of the other hundreds on the list of schools where kids have gotten shot? Just how safe do today's kids feel in their classrooms?

Maybe we should all ask her just what plans she has for instructing a fetus how to deal with active shooter drills?

*     *     *     *

Now for the relaxation. I finally got up to Crex Meadows outside Grantsburg, WI, this summer, taking along a friend and her young adult son. We all could use that break, and it was soothing. Drop the problems behind and get out and drive around lakes and meadows, seeing lots of early summer flowers in bloom, taking pictures of those, interesting trees, lakes, and wildlife. A couple of beaver lodges had gotten bigger with another year's attention, one with a beaver swimming into it - of course before we got within camera range.

The day was cool, fairly cloudy and windy, but it was a break between muggy heat and rain days. Phantom lake, always the second stop after the information center, had close to a hundred trumpeter swans on it, and shallow waters were full of water lilies starting to bloom. A duck escorted her brood of  new chicks around tightly grouped, just for the camera, right? A doe crossed the road far enough and quickly enough ahead, dodging into tall grasses along the lake and disappearing before either of us could raise a camera.

Other birds were showing off for us and our cameras. Rounding one curve we saw a pair of sandhill cranes in bright reddish brown feathers  being dive bombed repeatedly by a pair of red winged blackbirds. At one point they got close enough that one crane tried to snap back at them, contorting its neck in odd ways I'd never witnessed. The blackbirds finally managed to drive the cranes away, and with the show over we drove off.

Just before we got to the northern rest area, I stopped for a large bird ahead of us on the road. My friend asked if it was a turkey. After a couple photos while it stood still before flying away, I saw it well enough to tell her, "Almost: it's a turkey vulture."

Unfortunately by them she'd run out of time and needed to head back home. But it had been a wonderful day. We will go back again, when we have more time.

When A Gun Has More Rights Than A Woman

SCOTUS has finally done it. Roe is struck down. That was today. Yesterday, they struck down New York's ability to regulate who can/can't concealed carry in public.

There's "just a tad" of irony in their reasoning. For New York, the issue is too important for a state to have control over the law. In other words, no states rights. For Roe, the issue is too important for the nation to control it, let the states make their individual decisions.

In case anybody at all is in doubt, if you didn't bother to vote for Hillary in 2016, this falls on you. Obama's right/duty to choose Justices was thwarted by Mitch (Moscow Mitch) McConnell by delaying making a decision through the Senate until after his term was over. When Trump took over, he usurped the power of selecting that Justice, and also chose two more. The last one was while the election was still being voted on which kicked him out of power, a months' shorter time before he left office than was the excuse McConnell gave for delaying a vote on Obama's choice.

Note that it wasn't "just" a case of dates. Trump's choices were rushed through without sufficient investigation. Justice Beer, for example, was seated after a history of rapes, supposedly during drunken blackouts. He committed perjury in denying those, and the 25,000 or so tips to the FBI got lost somewhere, never checked out, undoubtedly at Trump's direction to send them all to the White House. There were also perjuries committed by potential justices who flat out stated the importance to them of stare decisis, when all the while they were salivating at the opportunity of overturning all kinds of precedents from previous rulings.

Hillary would never have appointed that kind of person. We'd not be where we are right now if you had bothered to vote and made it count towards saving democracy. Who knows what rights will be struck down next? Birth control? Interracial marriage? Voting rights protections? Rights for LGBTQ people, including marriage? Rights for workplace protections, from safety to pay and benefits? Rights to fight climate change? All are under attack right now.  Miranda was just eviscerated - the cops don't have to tell you anything! Better now to just tell them nothing at all until you speak to your lawyer, regardless.

How about freedom of religion? That's already been proven to be under attack. A small minority of us, due to their religious principals, have already taken away those protections in rulings for public funds supporting religious schools, rulings against abortion, rulings against gun regulations. My particular religious beliefs support none of that. Their religions are forcing their unpopular views on the country as a whole. Every announcement this last week or so has been another blow. What's next? Which of your rights will be taken away next? 

If you think that's fear mongering, just stick your head in the news for a few minutes and see what is already happening. Then take a look at the worst of the last century and follow how that was eased into, amidst people not paying attention until it was too late. And then, get your asses to the polls and vote for everybody's rights, for saving our democracy. Even if just this one time, when we teeter on the brink, vote BLUE!

NO EXCUSES !

And no ridiculous blaming Biden for high gas prices which are caused by a war a continent away, ya hear? He doesn't control Putin. He also doesn't need to support a pipeline which has the sole purpose of sending Canadian oil through the US to a port for export to other countries. He doesn't need to approve more oil leases when (1) there are around 9000 of them already sitting unused and (2) we need to wind down burning petroleum and switch to renewable, non polluting energy to at least try to keep this planet as a place where we can survive.

NO EXCUSES!

Another Benefit Of Dogs

There are all kinds of reasons to have a dog. Unconditional love. Companionship. Something that feels good sensually when you stroke those silky ears. Warmth shared with a snuggle when it's cold. Teaching responsibility and empathy in caring for it. The wonderful stimulation of a tail beating when it's happy while sitting next to or on your lap. Someone to talk to when you are lonely or just need to talk but have your secrets kept. The list goes on, different benefits suiting individual dogs and your relationships.

I found a new one last night. Bedtime is always the time for that last outdoor duty stop. In this household it also means that middle of the might - or wee hours if you will - chance to head outside for a minute or two. When I wake up and nature calls, the dog assumes she gets the same benefits. She's right.

My oddball schedule lately has me up and about briefly at 2AM. In AZ that means just a quick stop at the patio door and a wait while she quickly goes out and returns. In the summer it's often near the coolest part of the day. In winter, it's immediately followed by a warming snuggle. But in Minnesota it brings additional benefits.

On those night where the wee hours hold cloudless skies, I can locate familiar constellations not seen for... well, it seems forever. Even those tremendous dark skies from our trip a year ago were too star studded to pick out more than one or two. Everything was too busy. These last weeks there have been both dippers, cassiopeia, and I'm pretty sure, bootes. Trees were in the way of part of it. Had I taken more time I'm sure I could have traced out draco as well. Even last summer the skies were obstructed most of the time by smoke from Canadian forest fires.

Last evening there was a lower, more ground based bonus. Fireflies! While I stood on the steps just before bed, with  enough light left to still make out the yard, two were flashing practically at my feet. Then I scanned the rest of the yard for about 5 minutes, and traced the paths of at least 6 more, though I will allow for the possibility that one or two did abrupt u turns and got counted twice. I can't remember watching them anywhere since my granddaughter was little and we had her over for a weekend or gone camping. I wouldn't have seen these if it weren't for the dog.

You can bet I'll be looking again tonight. Unless of course, the threatened rain returns. This morning it was still wet from an overnight storm and at 10:30, with the sun out for an hour, she still refused to go out and deal with the horrors of wet blades of grass (or violet leaves, dandelions, baby trees, whatever) across her nearly hairless tummy. 

Boy, there better not be a puddle in the house anywhere! That is NOT what I consider a benefit!

Power Outage

 We had a thunderstorm this morning at 2:08. It woke me up, and the digital clock near the bed has very large numbers. I laid back to try to sleep. The weather forecast had shown a north/south line of them crossing the state overnight, with then current warnings all along the western border. We live by the eastern border. Sleep wasn’t coming, I decided after 5 minute listening to the storm, but something else wanted to.

I got up to make my way through the house. Fortunately I know it well. There is a little night light just over the bed which gave a glow, enough for my dark adjusted eyes to find my way through to the main part of the house to the bathroom. The CO detector in that hallway also gives a tiny glow, and there is a light-sensitive night light in the bathroom itself. While I was in there, it went out. Huh? Bad bulb, taking just this exact second to announce itself?

Once I walked out, the CO detector’s light was flashing, dimming. The other night light in the kitchen was out, no street lights either. Oh well, bed called. Besides, Paul keeps the house cold for us Arizona folks, and we almost never use the window AC we have in our former-garage-now-bedroom. If I’d had any doubts about the power, the bedroom clock no longer displayed the time.

I went back to sleep, trying to give myself a mental warning to wake by 5, so I could be sure to get Paul up for work. Sometimes that actually works. It did this time, but he was already up. I guess he has one of those battery reinforced alarm clocks. I returned to the warm bed again, after reminding myself just what wasn’t going to work in the morning, starting with Steve’s lift chair.

What else? We are so spoiled. No TV, internet, lights, refrigerator - freezer (gotta try to avoid opening that), microwave, even the gas stove with its electric “pilot lights”. OK, I know where the striker matches are, both boxes. The water itself is fine, since we live half a block from the water tower. But if this drags on for a while, the city pumps will be out and it won’t refill. But no hot water, so try not to need a shower! Yikes! On the plus side, nobody else should have hot water either so usage in general should be way down. Also no finishing the loads of laundry I started yesterday. Coffee will be cold, though it’s instant and just takes a bit longer to dissolve. Still tastes good. There is lots of food left from our trip up which doesn’t need cooking or refrigeration.

I think I got them all except one set of things: smoke detectors! They are wired through the house, and the battery which keeps the one in the  basement charged just a bit longer  is complaining loudly that its power is running low. I wonder just how long that can go on. I can hear it all too well, though its high pitch is beyond Steve’s hearing these days. At least they’re not toooooo loud with the door shut. Maybe.

Note: the smoke detector shut off at around 7:30. I survived the incessant noise! Whew!

Once Steve and I both got up and dressed, we found out that his lift chair was left in a very slight up position, so he says he can still sit in it. There is just enough tilt that he has to keep his feet on the floor, fighting against sliding forward. But he says it’s good enough.

The wifi router is off, of course, so I can only use my laptop for non-connected things like writing this but not posting it, and he can use his Kindle to read the book he downloaded and had just started yesterday. Both have a full battery charge, fortunately. By the time this is posted I can add what time (day?) the power returned.

With that question in mind, I decided to see if the cell towers were functioning. But at barely after 6 AM, whom to call? Oh yeah, the power company. This is a tiny town, and the early risers likely would be hurrying out their doors to work down in the metro, presuming there was power there, and that somebody else here would call Xcel. That could be me. I hit the buttons and it went through. (Cell towers are up! Yay!) The message was something like this:

“There are a lot of outages in the area. If you are calling about a gas problem,  blah blah blah or call 911. If you are calling to report an electric outage, please stay on the line. Wait times are long. You can also report electronically at blah blah blah.”

Wait, what? I can report an electric outage... wait for it ... electronically?

Seriously?

Does anybody really think through these things?


    *     *     *

Power returned a little after 8:15. That’s AM. It took Steve about 10 minutes to realize that now he could adjust his lift chair again, so it mustn't have been too bad to sit in.

Thoughts On Surviving A Mass Shooting

Mass shooting? What mass shooting? You're probably immediately telling yourself you've never survived a mass shooting. You've never been anywhere near one, right? 

That makes you a survivor. Others died, got injured. Not you. You can't plead ignorance of them happening all over these days, indiscriminately in shopping centers, churches, schools, even on the street or "those" neighborhoods. None of those people "earned" getting shot, killed. That's what makes them so unpredictable, that none of the targets knew they would likely get shot, there, then. There were no reasons. The only thing we keep hearing is the shooter must have been mentally ill. Angry. But not at you, surely. You haven't done anything that you can recall to ever make anybody want to shoot you. So those shooters must all have been crazy, right?

The shootings get plastered all over the news, the younger the victims, the more deaths, the more you hear about them. All those days of funerals, of flowers and balloons and teddy bears laid just outside the location where each one happened, the cluck-clucking at the senselessness of it all, the wonderful people among the dead, the tears, the faces in shock, people hugging each other. Each one is brought into your living rooms in as much detail as possible,  now even via video feeds of the actual events in "living color". How ironic, eh?

Short of cutting yourself off from the news, you can't avoid being aware, being practically there, hour after hour, incident after incident. But you're sitting somewhere right now, reading this. You're a survivor. So far.

Unless you are completely numb to what's happening, it has to begin to creep in on your awareness that some time in the future it could be your pictures splashed across TV screens, your experience detailed in horrific perfection. What is safe any more? It used to be easy to think that if you didn't go near schools it wasn't going to be you, just relax. It you didn't go to one of "those" centers of worship, one of "those" neighborhoods, it would never be you. If you "behaved" and didn't make anybody angry, it was never going to be you. But the people who do the shootings, everybody seems to agree, are crazy. Unbalanced. Angry and out for revenge, redress of wrongs real or imagined. Looking for a spectacular suicide. Looking for their name to be recognized. 

How can you tell just who they are? Is it that grumpy young guy in the check-out line ahead of or behind you? That person you snubbed because you just didn't like then? Have time for them? The person you never even noticed because you were busy? Or just never noticed because they weren't noticeable? Yet.

You're not actually worrying about getting involved in a  mass shooting, are you? Those things happen to others, not you. The odds are it'll never happen to you, to yours, to anybody you've ever met or heard of. Unless, of course, you have kids in schools these days, kids getting training in active shooter drills. Do they come home scared? Upset? Have nightmares? Kids can't figure the odds the way that adults can, so a couple words of reassurance from a loving parent might not be enough to set any fears at ease. After all, everything they get taught in school is important, right? That's what you've been trying to impress on them to get them to study. How do you tell your child that active shooter drills aren't important when they might be the very last thing that actually is? How do you tell yourselves that?

Do you try to shelter your children from the details of each last (for now) mass shooting? Have they heard how one young girl smeared the blood from her dead friend all over herself so the shooter would think his job was done the next time he looked in her direction? Is that what you need to teach your kids about their safety? Do you need to tell them that sometimes the cops don't actually react promptly to a shooting so kids and teachers can bleed out while waiting?  Does the possibility of their being involved in a shooting influence your decision as to how old is old enough for their own cell phone?

Have you felt you needed to worry about whether your own child could ever become a mass shooter? Is there a problem now your imagination pins that possibility on? Is there something that you're not doing? Doing too much of? Are you even having to worry about which would be absolutely the worst: that your kid is a shooter? Or a victim of one? 

So far you've all survived. How long will that last? Can anything be done? Or are we simply at war now, undeclared, ubiquitous, unpreventable? Because surely, not even now, after everything, will we ever consider banning guns from certain people including the under-aged, from domestic abusers, from however we believe we can pick out the people who shouldn't ever be within 50 feet of a weapon. Surely, after everything, we still will never consider banning automatic and semiautomatic weapons, large capacity clips. Because too many people are getting paid generous amounts, whatever amount it takes, for them to never consider the one thing which can reduce mass shootings, the one thing that makes them possible, the single predictor of how it can happen.

Are we still deciding we can live with that?

Gummies!

We know that different shots haven't helped Steve's back. The implanted pain interrupter helped for a while and he still uses it and recharges it regularly, but overall that's not doing what is needed either. He's reluctant to take all the percoset he's allowed to take so he doesn't get hooked on it, but we can see his body adjusting to the increasing levels he's allowing himself by it not killing his pain and him not getting "goofy" on double pills (10mg. vs. 5) the way he would a couple years ago. Still, the pain is way too often up at the 7 to 9 levels. The trip north was hard on him, and he's been sitting or laying around since, hoping for the pain to go away. No fishing. No visits with family. No hitting the local theater for the last Jurassic park movie as we'd hoped. TV and bed, that's all, interrupted by occasional meals.

I was talking with a friend who has lots of medical issues who admitted she uses gummies for her pain. However, she just found some really cheap from the usual store where she buys hers, a big plus for her and her budget. Unfortunately the newest batch is leaving her waking up with headaches, so she decided to go get the more expensive version she'd been using side-effect free, and just toss out the headache-producing ones.

Ahah!

"So if you're just going to throw them away...."

I've heard several people swear by them either for themselves or for others who take them for pain. They recommend this clinic or that storefront, then quote me a budget busting price, at least for regular use. I get that people who can afford to rent down in AZ these days tend to have $3 grand more a month to throw around than we do with our house paid for. Those same people drive gas guzzlers and take trips and cruises as regular things, go out for evening entertainment, etc., etc. So it just hasn't been an option to go buy large bottle just to try something you have no idea whether it will work or not. So I didn't hesitate to ask my friend if she was really going to just throw her existing supply out, and would it be OK if I took them to have Steve give them a try?

We had a long discussion. They are a THC derivative, isolating the parts of the plant which specifically fight pain. They can also produce a buzz, one of the reason she cuts her disc gummies into quarters. One quarter, twice a day, takes care of her pain. Yes, you'll test positive on a drug test. Yes, they are legal. Yes, the store she buys hers at is no longer required to do business on a cash only basis. Plastic is just fine, thank you. She kept two discs for herself, enough to hold her till she can go to the store again, and gave me the rest of the package. And if these work, I can go with her and she'll get a discount for bringing in a new customer. Win win.

Now I just had to talk to Steve about trying them, see if they help the pain, and whether he also gets headaches. I start by inquiring, as I do way too often these days, how his back is doing. I get the answer I'm getting way too often these days, like all the time. So I broach the subject, show him the package, dig out one gummy to show him.

His first reaction is a knee-jerk "But you know the doctor takes blood draws all the time before I get my percoset refill and it'll show for 30 days if I try one." I remind him he won't be within the same state as his doctor for over 2 1/2 months yet, plenty of time to clear out his system. Besides, if they do work, he can simply tell his doctor he's switched and won't be asking for more percoset. The stuff is legal in AZ also, after all. So he decides to try one. Or rather, half of one. I figured that between the difference in body weight and his starting with zero in his system, plus not having taken a percoset yet that morning, it was a decent level to start. We'd get a good read on pain relief, and could pare it back if the situation called for it.

Nothing happened for about an hour. Then he announced he thought he could feel it, and the pain had dropped to about a 7. Within two more hours, he thought it was a 5. Mid afternoon it was a 4. His bedtime pill, 12 hours after the first, brought it down to a 2. Over the next 24 hours it varied between 2 and 5, mostly sitting at a 4, something very acceptable to him. No sign of any headache.

We did discover an issue. He never came to bed. Usually despite his odd sleep schedules, he's there for at least a few of the same hours I am. I checked in on him when I got up, getting ready to let him know I planned to cut him back to a quarter disc for the day's two pills, but he let me know I didn't have to. He'd already taken his morning pill. At 3AM! Not 8AM when it was due, but 3AM. So we decided I would have control of when he got them, since I'm not going to be under the influence and generally keep track of time better anyway.

I could tell he was quite under the influence most of the day, say till late afternoon. He slept. A lot. He'd be watching TV, his favorite cooking shows, and I'd look over at him. The eyes were closed for about 4/5 of the program. When I talked to him, he'd have to think about what I'd asked, and then manage to get about half way through his answer. I figured the sleep wasn't doing him any harm, as he'd not been getting a lot of it with all the pain he's been dealing with. But I was DEFINITELY cutting him back to a quarter gummy and he wasn't getting one till 8PM rolled around.

When it did, I again asked where his pain levels were. Two. But he was eating, and it often prompts him to sneeze. Suddenly his back bounced up to a 6. Luckily I had his newest cut gummy piece in my hand. He'll get the same in the  morning, If all is going well, he's looking to go fishing with his fishing buddy. It's supposed to be a lovely day, and the two of them can enjoy it for hours, presuming they are well prepared for mosquitoes, bait supplies and snacks hold out, and nobody's had too much tea or pop to prompt a reason to leave. The favorite spot is a boat landing along the St. Croix River, no outhouses supplied. I'm keeping my fingers crossed for them.

I did find out one more interesting thing about these gummies. They can produce a contact high. I had been showing Steve a full gummy for about 5 minutes while we first discussed them. Then I took a little nap, experiencing the weirdest dreams I can recall, their primary theme being out me of control of my own body while driving the car. I was roused (thankfully) from the dream by the phone. My friend wanted to know both how Steve was doing with his dose, and could I take her to pick up one of her sons from school? A thought occurred to me, and I asked her about the possibility. She apologized for not mentioning it to me, and we both agreed she'd find a different ride right then. Just to be safe, you know. And I now know not to handle them any more than absolutely necessary, and wash my hands right afterwards.

In the time I took to write the last two paragraphs, Steve took his gummy quarter and when I asked just now, his back was down to a 4 again. This sounds promising!

Notes on "Downton Abbey" - The Second Movie

I wanted to go see it as soon as it came out, but decided waiting till the rush was over would be better. I'm still not fond of crowded indoor spaces, even with a mask. Then I got busy packing and everything, so Steve decided he'd send me once we got up north. There is an 8-plex theater 9 miles away.

It was my first time in an actual theater since before covid. Much has changed. The first thing I noted is that they only hold two viewings of each movie, even though it is summer. The "early" one was at 5 PM. Still, their senior discount holds all day, so it was a decent price. Once there, the lobby was empty except for one person selling both tickets and (trying to sell) refreshments. I passed on refreshments, citing my mask as why. I didn't explain I'd smuggled in a few pieces of beef jerky that we didn't consume on the trip north.

My movie was in theater 4 of 8, well towards the back. Nobody else was visible except a couple leaving, or perhaps heading for the refreshments counter. The schedule hadn't shown any movies running early enough to be getting out yet. Once inside #4, there was one person sitting up high in the back. While waiting for the previews to start (yawn) two more strolled in. We were it. Nobody sat near anybody except the pair entering together. We were all women. Go figure.

I long since discovered that PBS in Arizona and in Minnesota have different schedules for their offerings. MN even has 4 stations now to really confuse things, so a series I've been watching there isn't necessarily on or at the same episode here. There the station just held the 3rd run-through of the TV series, followed  by the first movie. We were all caught up then, and ready for their well-advertised second movie. No clue if that happened here.

I thoroughly enjoyed this one, finding it much more interesting than having the cast entertaining the King and Queen like in the first movie. Time is passing and attitudes are much less hidebound, allowing more personal happiness and character development than we've yet seen. Two main stories ran side by side, both well made if somewhat predictable in places, since by now we pretty well know the characters and how they behave. It opens with a wedding, and ends with a death, and a lot of lives are settled along the way. That's all the spoilers I'll give here, in case you still want to go see it. Well, except for my favorite line in the movie when a character is firmly shushed with, "I can't even hear myself die!"

Afterwards I headed, predictably, for the bathroom. Already inside were the two women who entered together, now in adjoining stalls. As I moved into mine, I eavesdropped shamelessly on their conversation. One was doing her best to explain the previous history of some of the characters heading into the movie. A few pieces of it were even correct. I found that mildly amusing. But then one of the women had to - just absolutely had to - ask why they had to put that homosexual stuff into the movie? I bit my lip - figuratively, not craving pain on a regular basis, but didn't sing out from behind my stall.

What? Did you think they were going to cure Thomas Barrow of it like some disease? He's always been gay, having to hide who he is, making for some interesting story arcs. Now, more evidence of changing times and personal character growth, most if not all of the household know who he is and accept it. They even wish him well in finding somebody to share his life with.

I decided to wait till they left before emerging from my stall. I didn't wish to see who these women were, but just to keep enjoying the movie as I reflected on it, and letting my tears from the funeral procession dry before walking out. It was well worthy of the series.

Another Journey

We do this each year, one way or another. Head north, head south, take the fast route, the scenic route. We've arrived, safely, are recovering, pretty much, and between naps. I'll just give the info that makes this trip a little different. Like the dead armadillos perhaps. Or my separating car bumper. Or... well, I'll  let you read this.

Packing was put off as long as possible. Even the list making was. We weren't sure exactly when we'd go, waiting to find out whether Steve's back treatment would do any good. As it turned out, it has done some good, giving him the relief of getting his pain levels down to a 5 (on a scale of 1 - 10) on occasion, but still prone to 8 or 9 given any reason. Like bumpy roads. Still, those times of 5 are  much better than before, even though not as good as hoped. But we gave ourselves an extra day before leaving, went the fastest, flattest route, aka boring, and the cheapest, meaning Motel 6 and no gas prices over $5.49.9/gallon. That of course was Sun City, our first fill and worst fill. Best price was Texas, $4.39.9, a local spot just inside their border along 40 which happened to be making their own breakfast "tacos" which really were burritos, but with a chorizo sauce Steve would go right back for now if it were feasible. 

I'm insisting no.

But let's take this in order.

Day 1: "Too Little Too Late:

The plan was to make Tucumcari. Awake by 3 AM (check), everything done and on the road by 5:30 (almost check, missed it by 5) and 600 miles later, bed. The route was planned a little differently than straight up tp Flagstaff and west on 40, instead cutting off from 17 in Camp Verde on 260, angling east on 260 to 87 unto Winslow. It passes through some beautiful high and wooded country. We actually saw a fawn near the road on the way. And Trees! Real actual trees!

While I often get up at 3 these days, I also usually get in a nap for another hour, perhaps at 5, maybe 7 or 8, perhaps not til after lunch or even around suppertime. Whatever, however it falls out, there is a nap, because the next bedtime is around 9.

No real nap today. There was a 10 minute snooze just before we crossed the border into New Mexico. Just enough to keep me going till Albuquerque, climbing up Sandia Mountain in early afternoon rush hour traffic, before things had a chance to get terrible. I was badly in need of a break. It arrived in the form of a gas stop, a short dog walk, a pit stop, and a bitty bag of popcorn. So the issue of needing a nap returned about a hundred miles before Tucumcari.
 

Adrenaline helps, have you noticed? As we headed west, the main thing on our minds was the storm in the distance, whether it was moving south out of our way, was the pavement showing signs it had rained recently, were those dark rumble strips wet? and hey! Can you smell that? Rain! Woo hoo!

Right about then, a few miles shy of Santa Rosa, we saw blue flashing lights ahead, in the freeway median just past a bridge. Nope, correction, two sets of blue flashers. Two cops then. Something was going on. Not just ordinary road construction, which, come to think of it, AZ didn't seem to be doing much of. They stood outside their squad card, waving us to slow down with large yellow flags. Trucks started putting on their flashers, we started slowing and bunching up. Both lanes. I put our lights on, slowed to within 40 feet of the semi ahead, and promptly got honked at by my tailgater.

WTF? Did they know know there was no way faster than however fast the traffic was going? Nobody would be cutting in to come between us if I stayed back that small amount, but HONNNK! I ignored them, other than exchanging a few choice comments with Steve. All my tailgaters get the same treatment: I slow down. Maybe they’ll leave. This one can’t of course, but if you honk, I slow. After about two miles of this, stop and go, creep a bit each time, there were finally red flashing lights up ahead in the median.  Our (right) lane slid over onto the shoulder, and the left lane slid even further over to merge with ours. Most everybody took turns. There's always a couple, but most of them did. We were all in this together after all.

As we got close, then passed, we saw a jackknifed semi in the median, three squad cars around the front and three tow trucks around the rest of the truck. And…we were gone. Just like that.

Just as we started gaining speed again, Steve read the new sign along the road: “Safety zone next 12 miles.” We both laughed, and almost simultaneously said “A little to little, too late!”

DAY 2: The Lonnng Day.

This was the planned 700 mile leg, aiming for Lenexa, KS. There were no reasonable accommodations at the 600 mile mark or thereabouts, and as grueling as we expected, it make the last leg a "mere" 500. Our room had been comfy, nice beds, with an AC unit in the wall which actually worked. There were a couple issues: the door didn't lock properly, the safety catch coming out of the woodwork and the deadbolt requiring much adjusting to engage.  Despite the website, there was no fridge or microwave, no coffee pot, and it turned out the toilet stopped flushing after the first two. I opened up the top to see if I could adjust something, like a chain which might have come off the lever to let water out the bottom, but it was plumbed very differently than I'd ever seen. We just left them a note about it. Heaven forbid they'd think we were that kind of people! Noise levels proved the walls and ceiling were thin, but they usually are and we managed sleep anyway. 

Until 3AM. Even after losing an hour crossing into New Mexico, my internal clock adjusted to their 3 AM, and we'd lose another hour on this leg. Steve was awake and we agreed there was no reason to stick around. Since I'd gotten to bed almost the minute we were inside the door, I was feeling well rested. And for sure this early there'd be less traffic!

Back on the road, we had an excellent view of the stars, particularly Venus, very bright despite the sky lightening up, and usually dead ahead. I clearly identified Cassiopeia out my window, the first I'd seen of it since... well, I guess last May in Utah on our big trip. Minnesota skies had been mostly obscured all summer with Canadian forest fire smoke.  Phoenix skies aren't helpful. Orion maybe, at their clearest.

Wind farms began to show up, then Venus disappeared just as we were wondering whether the soon-to-be rising sun was going to stab our eyeballs. Clouds dead ahead! Low ones. Suddenly the windmills showed only the bottoms of their towers and the rotating blades only showed about a third of their bottom blade at any time. Flash! You see it. Flash! You don't. Flash! The next blade's bottom is in view. Abruptly the semi ahead of us put its flashers on and slowed way down: fog! We were in and out of fog the next 60 miles or so, with it finally rising for the heat island of Amarillo. As we'd stopped for gas much earlier, there was no need to do more than drive straight through, and by the time the clouds ended, the sun was so high it wasn't a factor for driving.

Much as I hate Texas on principle (several of them in fact), Steve commented that they did one thing right, at least this far into the trip. The road smoothed out the minute we crossed out of Mew Mexico. His back was ready for that!

Most of the drive was uneventful. Just very, very, very long.  We did see more wildlife along the way though aside from cows all over, “life” was a misnomer. Call it roadkill: a small skunk, several turtles, a couple armadillos. I’m used to thinking of that latter as being in Texas, but these both were along the turnpike in Kansas.  We finally hit our motel in Lenexa, a western suburb of Kansas City, KS, about 6:30.

Heather Too was being her usual self on the trip. It takes her a while to adjust to changes, so her intake of both food and water was down for these first two days. She’s contented in the back seat on top of two soft duffels Steve packs his stuff in, with one of his sweatshirts on top to snuggle into. She’s happy to get out and sniff all the other pooches who’ve used the pet areas on our stops, but by the end of the 2nd day had very little of her own to contribute. She's a true desert dog, hates grass, especially if it's at all wet, either from dew or rain. She keeps pulling at her leash to get off the grass. Where's that gravel back yard she's used to?

I’d figured out how many hours we should have driven, and kept coming up short. It finally hit me: road construction! Lower speeds, single lanes, even over a weekend. From 4:40 AM to 7:30 PM, all freeway from Tucumcari to KC, Kansas. It was supposed to be 700 miles, but turned out to be about 750. When we hit our room, it looked exactly like the previous one, with one important difference: the wall unit for AC didn't exist, just the overhead unit for heat. In theory anyway. We were chilly, so I turned the heat on. The room got colder. And colder. We hadn't packed winter pajamas! I had a snuggely warm dog, but even the bath towels for extra blankets didn't help. I finally got smart enough to turn off the "heat," and Steve went to the car and brought back two sets of sweats. They were almost enough. This was well after the young children running all over and yelling outside our door for about 3 hours after we tried to get some sleep, because of course they did. Did those kids even have parents? Steve made me promise no more Motel 6 stays. Period.

Day 3: Lost!

I think we both got about 3 hours of sleep that night, and this time didn't hit the road until after sunrise. Shortest leg, but most grueling ahead. Getting lost didn't help.

I need to explain that, taking pride as I do in in finding my way  around almost everywhere, particularly when I've driven through there several times before. But northbound through the Kansas Cities is always a problem on their good days, although I've nearly figured them out. This wasn't one of their good days. And the MO side isn't known for good signage.

35 was under construction. Closed, even. We were to take something else, but I was still trying to figure out their sign which stated "closed 12th St" - or maybe Avenue. I didn't know, nor care. Cones narrowed that section of freeway to one lane... and we'd zoomed past it. Now the only signs discussed 70 and 760 and I had no clue where any of those went, although I had noted that 70 was closed. So... take 760 then? (Or was it 670? Remember how sleep deprived I was.) We opted for the one with a 6 in it, and subsequent signs gave that route as 35 and whatever that number was, so I thought we were OK, but we kept going and going west. I needed north. I finally found an off ramp that didn't threaten no return freeway access, located a convenience store open that early on a Sunday morning, and stopped for help.

Apparently she was used to people like me who couldn't figure out the bad signage. She'd been one of us her first couple of times through there and she already knew the roads. She gave verbal directions that sounded simple: turn left back onto the street we'd taken to her store, go under that piece of freeway, under the next one which was the closed 70, and eventually we'd see signs for north 35. Easy peasy. Right? But then she decided to check with Google and print us out a map. It would get us to Des Moines, but I could do that part myself, if I could only get back on to 35. The map had a size scale where the needed part was a pin prick in size. NOT HELPFUL!!! I decided, after thanking her, that I should just trust her verbal information. The six sheets of printout had as instructions 2 and 3, to go to the light where we'd turned in, take a left (number 2) and take a right (number 3) onto the very same street. We had 6 sheets of scratch paper for the car!

Sure enough, her original directions were easy to follow. We were back on 35 northbound, heading out of Kansas (again!), and this time Steve saw a sign I'd missed both times through the tangle that told us which road to take instead. Moreover, more decent signs followed. FINALLY! Homeward bound.

It was pretty much same old same old from there, a stop for gas, a rest stop with a nap attempt (failed), an oil check (fine), breakfast (free because they got our order screwed up AND we caught it at the window), another nap attempt (successful), lunch, and finally Minnesota! We were back in roadkill territory, but this time is was all fawns. Every single one. There were well over a dozen along the shoulder, every few miles. No adults, just another fawn. Eventually there were a couple of widely separated raccoons just for variety, before the last dead fawn.

Finally we hit the Twin Cities, and 35E is still under construction, or at least constricted right in downtown St. Paul. How many years has that been now? 10? Seems like I was still working when they were doing the north end, around 694 and up. It really started to feel weird when we hit the Chisago Lakes area. It was home. But it wasn't home. I was simply too tired by then to deal with it, just needing to get home safely. I got Paul to help unload the car and we discussed the changes to the yard - or what still hadn't changed despite last summer's work. (They're called weeds.) More of some flowers are blooming however, like 4 columbine plants instead of last year's one. Perhaps I really made some progress after all.

I spent my last brain reserves making the adjustment for the TV from Dish in AZ to Dish in MN. Different schedules, offerings, even the remote. Where the heck is that button? How do I turn this on/off again? Eventually I set a few timers and decided to go to bed. Unpacking would wait. 1846 miles later, and We. Were. Finally. Here.

Uff da.