Happy Sweetest Day

The best portion of a good man's life - his little, nameless,

unremembered acts of kindness and love. ~ William Wordsworth

Today is Sweetest Day, which isn't saying much. It's not really a holiday even though Hallmark makes cards for it. It's not a day to celebrate even though The Store sells lobster tails and fillet Mignon and chocolate covered strawberries in a special display. Sweetest Day isn't even celebrated around the country, much less the world. So I thought I'd tell you just a little bit about it.

Sweetest Day has become something akin to Valentine's Day, a day to give gifts to your sweetest, so to speak. But it's origins are more significant--it began in Cleveland, Ohio in 1922 by a man who worked in a candy shop. He wanted to offer a gesture of hope to orphans and the needy, so on a Saturday in October he passed out candy and little gifts to the overlooked.

It became known as a day to pay special attention to those with less, but eventually it was distorted and became a day to give gifts to sweethearts, whether they were in need or not. And it became a day when The Store could display fillet Mignon and lobster tails, two of the most expensive things the butcher has to offer.

So, happy Sweetest Day, a day when it might be better to up the World Vision contribution instead of buying pricey meat.

Long Live Anita Bowser

You know I occasionally check my hometown newspaper's website to scan the obituaries (morbid, I know, but I'm at that age). Over this past weekend, I read the obituary of Indiana State Senator Anita Bowser . She was a noted Democrat who championed causes protecting the neediest in the state's population. She was respected on both sides of the aisle for her intelligence and plain and outspoken approach to law making. The picture on her senate page is lovely. I remember none of those things about Anita Bowser . My first year or so in college was spent at a branch of Purdue University, and in the early 80s, Anita was a political science professor. She taught my American Government class my freshman year, and she was a mess. Somewhere in my old text book, I have a sketch of her drawn on a particularly dull day in class--her hose sagged at her ankles, her slip showed at least half an inch all the way around, her hair had been slept on but not brushed, and her bright red lip stic...

My Sitemeter is All Bloated and Not Quite Itself

I'm tempted to let it sit on the couch with its feet curled up under a blanket, a hot cup of coffee in hand, a block of cherry almond bark Chocolove within reach, and An Affair to Remember spinning in the DVD player. I'm one of those obsessive bloggers, the kind who checks her sitemeter as often as possible throughout the day, the kind who gauges the quality of her writing by the number of readers who regularly stop by. I've become less interested in the overall number of hits and more interested in the number of repeat hits. The return visitors are the ones I long for. When my sitemeter reads forty at the end of the day, and the majority of those hits are webpals who have conversed, I'm happy. Forty may seem low to many of you, but I've only been at this since August. To me, forty is a jackpot. A few days ago, I sat down at my laptop and discovered a number somewhere in the eighties. Eighties! Yippee! Yeeha ! Hoo-rah ! I've been discovered by the webworld , o...

Happy Birthday...

to me! Update: Since you have asked, I only got one actual packaged gift, a beautiful hand-made bracelet from a friend, but both girls were home for the weekend, and we had dinner at the lake and a relaxing weekend. Thanks to all of you for your lovely wishes!

Scout Moves

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