Scout Moves

I stepped on a frog. No, not like that. I mean literally, I stepped on a frog. A toad, actually. I had opened my garage door and walked outside in the dark, and I felt a spray of something wet and unpleasant splash my knee like someone had spit on me. I actually looked around to see who would have done such a thing. But what happened was, I stepped on a toad. He was unluckily sitting on my driveway, right where I placed my size-9 shoe, and when my giant black Born sandal smashed his tiny warty frame, his bodily fluids shot out all over my pants, and his internal organs shot out his back end. Daughter No. 2 brought out a flash light so we could all marvel at the various parts--liver, kidney, large intestines, small intestines--she recognized them all from science class. I mourned for the poor guy, amazed that my big foot could do such damage but grateful the thing died a quick death. It was when I was expressing this sentiment that he moved his little tongue and tried to hop away. But w

I don't have time for a full post today because my 17-year-old daughter who refuses to drive has to be driven--everywhere--all at once. And we're having guests for dinner this evening. And my mother is coming for a visit tomorrow. And my house is dirty. And there is no bread in the dadblasted cupboard. So, I will quickly share an experience, but only for a minute because the clock is ticking--and persistently, too. Anyway, in my little circle of my little town, I design T-shirts. I design them for the marching band and for the tennis team and for the guy who owns the screen printing shop. I have been doing this little "business" for several years, although most of my design work is for books. As an aside, when people use the word business in quotes, it means they don't get paid. So, like I was saying, I design T-shirts. Yesterday, I was at the park in Small Town awaiting Daughter No. 2's tennis match, sitting in my portable chair in the shade with Daughter No

In my yard, I've got an assortment of bushes and trees but mostly grass. When my kids were little, they each had a little stone bird nestled in the mulch in the front yard, and because the landscapers don't want to throw them away, the little birds keep getting moved around here and there. I think the girls don't even remember they ever had birds. One thing we have never had is a lawn ornament. I wouldn't mind something like a bird feeder or a bench beside a tree or ...I'm stuck on the word "or" because I can't think of anything I would like to have in my yard. There is a popular lawn ornament in my part of the country. It's actually more like a front stoop ornament because they usually sit right by the front door. People here seem to like geese. They set a foot-high cement goose on their front porch, and it guards the door. More often than not, it guards the door while wearing clothes. An entire industry has developed around these clothes, because

I have written before about sponsoring a child through World Vision-- Mayecor. He lives in Senegal and is in his third year in school. I'm not sure how that correlates with American school grades. Once a year of so, World Vision sends a brief progress report so you can see how your child is growing and how your contribution is being spent. This report says that Mayecor has been given a mosquito net, that his health is satisfactory, he still plays football, and he helps his family by working in the fields. I'm not sure what he does in the fields--if he tends cattle or if he tends crops. And if it's crops he is tending, what do they grow. I haven't written him an a while, so these are the questions I will ask when I next write. There are some translation issues that complicate letter writing. My letters are translated to him, I believe in French, and vice versa. Under the category of what my contribution has done for the community, it reads "building of the village&

This is a picture of my father's unit when he was a soldier in World War II. He was part of the 1st Armored Division (Old Ironsides) which, after crossing the ocean on the Queen Mary, trained in Northern Ireland. Before receiving orders for deployment, the unit posed for this photo that now hangs in my mother's foyer. I have always found it captivating--young men looking clean and fed and dry, and safe. They wouldn't look like this again for a few years. Old Ironsides was deployed in North Africa and were some of the first American soldiers to see actual combat. They also fought in Italy and France, and they were a pivotal part of the battle at Anzio. My father didn't talk about the war very often except to swear about Paton and wish he had been assassinated by the soldiers who hated him. He liked to tell the story of driving a tank across the desert with German aircraft overhead, and his tank jumped its track. According to the story, Paton abandoned my father and his t

This past weekend, my summer band finished its season with a finale concert in the park. Everything about the evening was delightful--the weather, the attentive crowd, the program--I even played well enough to be proud, and I didn't kick myself on the way back to the car for stupid mistakes. I have been known to do that from time to time, as most musicians are prone to doing. We're an insecure lot. In honor of the end of this season, my seventh, here is an excerpt of something I wrote several years ago about my first summer band rehearsal. I marvel at the difference between my place in the band now and how I viewed my place in it then. Summer Band As I walked down the steps into the family room, I took inventory, for the third time. I had my keys. I had my purse. I had my horn. And I had an unruly stomach that was begging to stay home. “Please, don’t go to band rehearsal. Please, stay home and eat cookies.” In a book about conquering fears, I had read that we each have a “chatt

So, this week's melee is a rhyming one, eh? I'll fill in the blanks, and see what you say. 1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate. Girls are mean and take on a tone. I wish they'd be nicer and put down that phone. 2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus. Those band kids who smile and tip their hats but when you aren't looking they're behaving like brats. 3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with. My back is out and makes me feel old. My back is out and I'd rather clean mold. 4. The Meritorious: Give someone credit for something and name it if you can. I like Franklin Roosevelt and I like Joan the martyr. I like reading Steinbeck but I love Jimmy Carter. 5. The Mirror: See something good about yourself and name it. My eyes are brown and my hair is gray. I swear not to dye it because I like it that way. 6. The Make-Believe: Name something you wish for. Just once in my life w

This is my mailbox. It's one of my favorite things because when I open the door after the mail carrier has stopped by, there is always something inside. There is always something to take out, something to open, something to sort through. Anticipation is what makes the mailbox so appealing. You wait all day for the mail carrier to pull up and leave what's yours. You walk down the driveway and open the door, peak inside, and pull out the stack. Sometimes the stack is so big, it's bound with a rubber band. I throw out the KFC coupons and local bargain hunter paper and lay the rest out on the kitchen counter, like sifting for gold. Sometimes there are so many catalogs, you can spend an entire evening flipping through them. Yes, I know. Catalogs are bad. They waste trees, and the glossy finish conflicts with recycling. But they are fun to look through anyway. In the days when people wrote letters to each other, opening the mailbox was even more of a treat, but these days people

Yesterday, I served as a chaperon for the marching band. Beyond chaperoning the trip to Florida in the spring, I have never done that before and probably never will again. The first football game of the season for the local high school is against a school about 20 miles north of here. In the spirit of good sportsmanship, the two schools combine their marching bands into one big band to perform for half-time, and yesterday was one of their rehearsals. Our kids climbed up into four big yellow school buses and headed north, and I was with them. I sat in that bouncy seat and tried to remember the last time I rode in a school bus. I believe it has been more than 25 years. I haven't missed the smell. After taking my seat in the front, one of the first things I noticed was a box in a bracket next to the first aid kit. It was stamped in big red letters that read "Bodily Fluid Clean-up Kit." I wondered what might be in such a kit, and I hoped I wouldn't find out. While the ban

I am borrowing something from a commercial. I think it was an ad for eye glasses, but it doesn't matter what it was selling--it was a clever piece of film. A man who is over one hundred years old begins with "I have seen," and he names the various events, cultural oddities, and inventions he has seen throughout his life time. I like the idea so much that even though I am only 45, an unremarkable age, I will name what I have seen. I have seen houses with only one television, black and white with no remote control to rotate through the four channels. I have seen houses with only one telephone, a rotary dial with a twelve-inch cord, stuck up on the kitchen wall. I have seen houses with just one car, and kids who walked to school. I have seen mankind landing on the moon for the very first time, fuzzy and distant and full of pride, and I suspect a little fear. I have seen corporal punishment in schools, those fear-inspiring hand paddles and ass paddles and rulers used to smack

I spent over a week and a half exploring two incredible cities, Paris and London. Once back home, I suffered through 95-degree days with 99% humidity, day after day after day. And what did I do through it all? I knitted a sweater. While on vacation, I found I had a few hours to myself every morning because I am an early riser, and the others in the family tend to sleep in. So, I knitted. When the weather is unsuitable for man and cat, I tend to stay inside, so I knitted. It took me two weeks to finish this simple pattern of stockinette stitching using Noro Kureyon, a Japanese silk yarn, and US8 needles. Imagine what I could make on a trip around the world or if I lived in Florida in August.

Yes, I know that phrase should read Kiss Me--I'm Irish, but my town doesn't host an Irish festival. It hosts an Italian festival for a few days every August, and for those few days, everyone is Italian. We shut down the main street, roll in food wagons, hold a wine tasting event, judge locally-made spaghetti sauces, and listen to Italian polkas. We also set the stage for the Dominic Greco Band. Dominic was Italian, after all, as is our current director. We performed our usual Italian festival repertoire--polkas, overtures, corny stuff. The highlight, as far as I can tell, was Nessun Dorma . You might think, Yikes, a big, loud, locker-room band playing something lovely that an orchestra should perform? But we pulled it off with a reasonable amount of dignity and a beautiful horn line, mainly because we had an amazing soloist, Barry Busse . Mr. Busse is a world-renowned tenor who has retired professionally and now teaches at a high school near here. It wonders you why someone

Personally, we celebrated by taking our pontoon out for a spin with the sunshine and cup of coffee.

What? You want me to vote "yes" fer a school levy? You want me to pay a couple hun'rd more a year to git yer kids through school? We don't need no stinkin' schools. Twice now, my town and the neighboring town have put school levies on the ballot, hoping to inspire our communities to support our sagging schools. These aren't taxes for luxuries like grand stadiums and a dozen computers in every class room--these are emergency funds, needed to provide a reasonable education and to pay the light bill every month. Already, schools have learned to be frugal. Our high school has a large wing that was built in 1913, and it's in dire need of repair, now reduced to not much more than dust. The pipes in the basement burst about once a year, flooding more than just storage. The schools have halted all field trips and cut stipends for coaching positions. Teachers who retire are often not replaced. Assistant administrative positions have been eliminated, leaving staff w

Dive has asked for more reminiscing from the bowels of Just Sayin, but honestly--I think I've covered the highlights already. It's true that I really like my cats, and Tiger is such a photogenic kitty, so here are a few pictures from this past year featuring him as a world leader. He couldn't do any worse than the ones we've had throughout the years.

I feel a bit vain, and I have never been very good at promoting myself, but I do have a few favorite posts from the past year, if I do say so myself. One of my favorites was about a used bookmobile that was for sale in my town. I imagined all the uses for it and even made one just for Rich. I also liked my post about my life's sound track, if it had one. I find writing about imaginary details of life to be therapeutic. You can learn a lot about yourself when you assign music to each phase of your life. And I liked my post about all the societies out there in society , and I enjoyed coming up with a few of my own. Here was my personal membership card to the Use Your Turn Signal or Die Society. When I discovered the fill-in-the-blank poem that provided I Am From, I was delighted. I liked what I created with it, and I was inspired by what some of you were able to create with it as well. I have sung for you, played the piano for you, given you recipes, shown you my paintings and bab

It's my birthday! Or it's the birthday of Just Sayin' at least. It was born on this day last year. I remember when I sat down at my computer, after reading a couple of blogs I had discovered by accident, and thinking that I would give it a shot. What the heck. I had no idea what to expect or if anyone would ever read the thing. I just wanted to write. I like writing, and I think I do it fairly well. Now, 524 posts later, with almost 11,000 hits and 37 pins on the map, I am glad I stumbled across blogger and my treasured blog pals. You are all so diverse and fascinating and creative and unique. I have even met two of you live in person. Sometimes I think the only thing we have in common is the fact that we have a blog and read some of the same ones, but what we really have in common is our humanity and our need to tell people what we think about whatever pops into our heads. It took a few months to gather up the bunch, starting with Rich and then adding the rest, and I have

In a brief moment of boredom-induced internet grazing, I ran across a review of a restaurant I used to frequent while a poor college student in Chicago--Mister J's Dawg 'N Burger on State Street. The reviewer said he has never been to the place, will never go to the place, and will not allow his girlfriend to go to the place, mainly because he saw a guy cleaning out the back one day, and the sight was disgusting. Hummmph Mister J's is an institution, or at least it was in the early 80s. It was within walking distance of my dorm, and for just over $2, you could get a big burger, a pile of fries, and a chocolate shake, and these weren't just any burgers, fries, and shakes. These were monumental, life-altering, and epicurial. The only down-side of the place was the nature of the ordering--you had to know what you wanted the minute you walked through the door because if you walked up to the counter and hesitated for even a moment, the guy on the other side would scowl with

I really do spend an awful lot of time listening to things with horn parts that can't be typed, but I also listen to show tunes now and then. So, here's the lyrical melee featuring songs from Oklahoma. 1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate. An inability to get along: The farmer and the cowman should be friends, Oh, the farmer and the cowman should be friends. One man likes to push a plough, the other likes to chase a cow, But that's no reason why they cain't be friends. 2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus. Curly, when he imagines the death of Jud: Pore Jud is daid, Pore Jud Fry is daid, All gather 'round his cawfin now and cry He had a heart of gold And he wasn't very old Oh why did such a feller have to die? Pore Jud is daid Pore Jud Fry is daid, He's lookin' oh so peaceful and serene 3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with. That good things don't always

OK, I haven't done a melee in a while. I'm due. The thing seems to be to answer these questions with lyrics, but since most of what I listen to is lyric-free, and I don't know how to type out a hummed horn part for Beethoven, I'll just use regular words. It's a shame. 1. The Misanthtropic: Name something (about humanity) you absolutely hate. I hate that we have the attention span of a rabbit. And I hate our tendency to be more interested in insignificant bits of information like who's been arrested for drunk driving than about the serious goings on in the world. 2. The Meretricious: Expose something or someone that’s phony, fraudulent or bogus. White bread. 3. The Malcontent: Name something you’re unhappy with. I'm unhappy that I don't have maid service at home. That's one of my favorite parts of being on vacation--someone to hand me clean towels, someone to vacuum while I'm out, and someone to leave a nice little piece of chocolate on my pillow

The wedding gig went well, and I do believe, for that moment, my sun was at noon. Oh, and the bride was lovely.

I have my first wedding gig tomorrow, and I am marveling at the fact that I have not reduced myself to a heap of fear and inferiority. This is the kind of job that would, in the past, have had me laying my head down on the table and begging someone to get me out of it. I don't care who or how, just don't make me do it. I had that reaction with my first pit orchestra gig. I actually shed tears when I decided I was in over my head, and I nearly made myself sick over it. It turned out OK in the end. Not great, but at least OK. I didn't feel like I needed to leave town afterwards. I have similar reactions to certain orchestra performances with prominent horn parts, and once when I played a Mozart concerto at a local art guild get together, I thought I would vomit. But this time, I'm not so nervous. I am playing with a brass quintet made up of top-notch musicians, and so I count myself as the weak link. But I don't count myself as the town fool or musical boob. I think I

This tart recipe occasionally appears in the recipe widget in the sidebar here, and one day it caught my eye. I finally got a chance to try it yesterday, and it's worthy of passing on. I couldn't find heirloom tomatoes locally, so I used yellow tomatoes and small plum tomatoes instead, and I sliced them thinner than instructed. It was still wonderful--perfect for summer. Enjoy. Heirloom Tomato Tart Active time: 35 min Start to finish: 3 hr Makes 6 to 8 servings For black pepper parmesan pastry: 1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour 3/4 stick (6 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes 2 tablespoons cold vegetable shortening 2 tablespoons freshly grated parmesan 1/2 teaspoon black pepper 1/4 teaspoon salt 2 to 4 tablespoons ice water For filling: 3/4 lb fresh mozzarella (not unsalted), very thinly sliced 1/2 cup pesto 2 lb mixed heirloom tomatoes, sliced 3/4 inch thick Special equipment: pie weights or raw rice Make pastry: Blend together flour, butter, short