Mike at Rambling Stuff tagged me a few weeks ago for this meme. Finally, here it is! Thank you, Mike, this was fun and a challenge to my memory. LOL
WHAT WERE YOU DOING 10 YEARS AGO; That's a long time ago - it's hard to remember. Either I just started at Suite101 where I would meet some great friends or I was working at Eye on the Web, which closed up shop without paying me.
WHAT ARE THE 5 THINGS ON YOUR "TO DO" LIST; Post this meme, get caught up with my blogging buddies, get my writing time in, contact the company that has not refunded my money on a cancelled order, check out some markets, and clean the bathroom.
3)SNACKS THAT YOU ENJOY; cheese cake, blueberries, and chocolate.
4) THINGS I DO IF I WERE A BILLIONAIRE; Pay bills, college fund for grandchildren, share with children siblings and friends, setup a grant so no child in my town goes without, donate to various charities, get the latest equipment for my husband to pursue his hobby of car restoration (he is really good at it!) and build myself an observatory!
5) PLACES WHERE I HAVE LIVED; Only a few places in NH!
6)BAD HABITS THAT I HAVE; Not sticking to an exercise regimine and being disorganized. If I fail to make a list, I get overwhelmed and don't know where to start on anything - result: I accomplish nothing.
7) JOBS THAT I HAVE HAD; baby sitter, soda jerk, waitress, nanny, auto body helper, vice president & president of citizen's group, speech writer, researcher, public speaker, assembly worker, newsletter writer, web writer, web managing editor, freelance writer.
Sorry, I know I am supposed to tag people, but I don't. If you decide to do this meme, please post to let me know so I can check it out. :-)
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Saturday, May 3, 2008
The Old Man Gone Five Years Now
On May 3, 2003, I awoke happily looking forward to my 53rd birthday. My mood changed to disbelief then sadness when I turned to my local news to discover that the Old Man of the Mountain no longer gazed over New Hampshire. Sometime during the early morning hours he fell leaving a huge void on the side of the mountain as well as a huge sense of loss in the hearts of my fellow Granite Staters and me.
The Old Man beckoned people from all over the world to visit him from the time he was first spotted by workers constructing the carriage road from Woodstock to Franconia in 1805. He rested majestically on the western side of Cannon Mountain in Franconia Notch, in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. Improvements in the roads and the building of railroads into the White Mountains brought tourists to the area. By the 1840's the word of the Old Man had spread. He brought thousands of tourists into the state.
His granite profile symbolized New Hampshire -- the Granite State. The Old Man's story began about two hundred million years ago when an ice sheet fractured the granite with its heaving, freezing and thawing actions. Huge blocks of the granite broke away falling off the sheer precipice approximately 1200 feet above Profile Lake. According to experts this process finally revealed the Old Man's face about 2,000 to 10,000 years ago. His face was 25 feet wide and 40 feet long. Five granite ledges combine to form his face, which accounted for the fact that his profile was visible only from particular vantage points along the highway and at Profile Lake.
During the 1880s the Appalachian Mountain Club reported that his forehead was slipping. According to experts of the day, repairing the forehead to prevent it from slipping further was impossible. Measurements and photographs taken in 1906 by Reverend Guy Roberts, who climbed the face, provided the first record of the Old Man. Roberts returned in 1915 with a Quincy, MA quarryman EH Geddes to find that the stone had moved 1 1/4 inches. Geddes made the trek again in September of 1916 carrying a fifty pound pack containing tools and supplies needed to secure the ledge. He accomplished his task in 8 days. In 1927 and 1937 other supports were installed. Periodic inspections and repairs were a regular part of the Old Man's upkeep.
Sadly, despite the best efforts of man down through the years to preserve the Old Man, nature's fury that created him ultimately destroyed him. Fundraisers to construct a memorial began almost immediately. Five huge stone monoliths, each with a different part of the profile, will be arranged so that a replica of the Old Man man will appear once the visitor reaches a certain point in the path along the way, reproducing his sudden appearance to countless people driving through Franconia Notch.
I know that losing the Old Man to nature doesn't begin to compare to the human loss and suffering of so many people in this country due to hurricanes and tornadoes. My thoughts and prayers are with them.
Still, there is an ache that is especially keen on my birthday - the day we lost the Old Man of the Mountain.
My source for the history of the repair work:
Back Porch Tales by Karl M Frost & Evelyn M Ellingson, 1974, in the USA.
Photos of repair work on the Old Man, climbers, memorabilia, and EH Geddes
Image of the Old Man is licensed to me by Damselsoft and may not be reproduced.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
How Much Have I Changed in Ten Years?
You've Changed 20% in 10 Years |
 You've hardly changed in ten years, from your lifestyle to those very retro clothes. And unless you were really ahead of your time, you probably need to acquaint yourself with the modern world! |
Just for the fun of it, I decided to answer these questions from different times in my life. So instead of answering how much I've changed in 10 years, I answered in repsonse to 15 years, then 20 years, 30 years, 40 years, and 50 years. Since I am 57 years old, there have been big changes since I was seven!! Here is the breakdown:
20% in 10 years
40% in 15 years
52% in 20 years
60% in 30 years
80% in 40 years
84% in 50 years
Thank you for posting this one, Storyteller. It was fun! It certainly got me thinking about some of the changes I've undergone over the years. Keeping with the more whimsical spirit of this game brought some light-hearted changes to mind.
I have always loved music. My thoughts turned to the evolution of how I listen to music, which started with records and my little transistor radio, evolved to eight track tapes, cassettes, and finally CDs on my stereo system. Now I'm ready for the next step - an MP3 player.
How could I not stroll down fashion memory lane? I never missed an opportunity to cast off a frilly dress for my dungarees. As a young person, I never dreamed I would give up my bell-bottomed, hip-huggers. But I did. Over the years they morphed into straight-legged-jeans which have morphed into slacks with elastic waist bands.
What of my favorite passtimes? My rollerskates and jump rope have long since been retired to eventually be replaced with a telescope and binoculars. Nancy Drew mysteries are no longer on the bookshelf having been moved to make space for mysteries by John Grisham and Patricia Cornwell.
Not everything has changed. Now and then, I still enjoy those "little hot dogs" otherwise known as breakfast links. And I still love those "little trees" otherwise known as broccoli. As long as there are hot, summer days, a cold glass of lemonade will always hit the spot and serve as a reminder of summer days long ago!
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Bingo
Bingo was first published in 2001 in an anthology titled Faithful Guardians, which was edited by a wonderful lady, who has since left us, Phyllis Hobe.It is a true story.
Bingo was my brother's mixed German Shepard dog. Generally speaking, he was sort of a pain in the neck. He was a barker. He barked at everything -- neighbors, cars, cats, the wind or anything else that caught his attention. No one knew what to do about him. None of the remedies we tried stopped him from barking. He had been an abused puppy when my brother rescued him, so having him put down for barking just didn't seem right.
He wasn't a very good watchdog. He was like the little boy who cried wolf, or perhaps the little wolf that barked boy. At any rate, we soon learned that his barking was not a cause for concern and no one paid any attention it. Neither did I as I sat at the kitchen table reading a book one hot summer day in 1969. Bingo started to bark; I tried hard to block it out -- until I heard the back door open. As I looked up, two middle-aged men entered the laundry room, which lead into the kitchen.
"OK, stop right there." I said in the most commanding voice I could muster.
They laughed and told me not to be alarmed. According to them, they were acquaintances of my father and had come by to pick up the old shed laying disassembled in the back yard. My father hadn't said anything about this to me and neither man had a receipt. Being a teenager who enthusiastically embraced the feminist movement, I quickly lost sight of the dangerous potential of my situation. Instead of being fearful because I was alone with these two strangers in the house, I became very annoyed and indignant at their condescending attitude toward me. I told them to come back when my father was home. They insisted that they needed to take the shed, which was "rightfully" theirs since they had paid for it. Referring to me as a "little girl" and telling me not to get "all hysterical," they continued to attempt to bully me into allowing them to take the shed.
My growing anger revealed itself as I glared at the two and they found that very amusing. There was no way I was going to just let them walk away with the shed. However, I wanted them and their silly grins gone. I told them they could have the shed if one of them gave me his license so that I could copy his name and address. The mouthier one of the two handed over his license, laughing at me in the process. I copied the information.
As they were leaving the kitchen, the mouthier one turned to me and said, "You gonna do something about that stupid dog of yours out there? He's in the way."
He was correct about Bingo being in the way. He was tied to his doghouse, which was only a few feet from the shed. I didn't want him to get hurt. I knew he wouldn't harm them. He was all bark and no bite. I held his collar as the men approached the shed. It wasn't an easy task. Bingo continued to bark, growl, and lunge at the men. It took all my strength to hold onto him.
Suddenly, the men began to jump around and scream, as they slapped at themselves and the air. When they had picked up the last part of the shed, they had disturbed a nest of wasps. Wasps were everywhere. Before I could act on my fast growing sense of panic, I felt Bingo's body press against the side of my leg. He had stopped barking, growling, and lunging. He stood quietly, keeping his body firmly pressed against my leg. I reacted instinctively and followed his lead. Neither of us moved a muscle. The wasps were everywhere, buzzing around us. The men continued jumping, slapping at the wasps, and screaming. After a few minutes, the wasps disappeared.
Each of the men had been stung several times. As they were leaving one of them said to me, "How come you and your stupid dog didn't get stung?"
I smiled for the first time since the arrival of the two men and said, "I guess my stupid dog is the smartest one here!" He looked at me as if I had two heads. He didn't get it. I don't think he even understood that I was being sarcastic when I referred to Bingo as "my stupid dog." It didn't matter because I knew Bingo had saved the day. His keen instincts saved him from the wasps, and his big heart saved me.
Bingo was my brother's mixed German Shepard dog. Generally speaking, he was sort of a pain in the neck. He was a barker. He barked at everything -- neighbors, cars, cats, the wind or anything else that caught his attention. No one knew what to do about him. None of the remedies we tried stopped him from barking. He had been an abused puppy when my brother rescued him, so having him put down for barking just didn't seem right.
He wasn't a very good watchdog. He was like the little boy who cried wolf, or perhaps the little wolf that barked boy. At any rate, we soon learned that his barking was not a cause for concern and no one paid any attention it. Neither did I as I sat at the kitchen table reading a book one hot summer day in 1969. Bingo started to bark; I tried hard to block it out -- until I heard the back door open. As I looked up, two middle-aged men entered the laundry room, which lead into the kitchen.
"OK, stop right there." I said in the most commanding voice I could muster.
They laughed and told me not to be alarmed. According to them, they were acquaintances of my father and had come by to pick up the old shed laying disassembled in the back yard. My father hadn't said anything about this to me and neither man had a receipt. Being a teenager who enthusiastically embraced the feminist movement, I quickly lost sight of the dangerous potential of my situation. Instead of being fearful because I was alone with these two strangers in the house, I became very annoyed and indignant at their condescending attitude toward me. I told them to come back when my father was home. They insisted that they needed to take the shed, which was "rightfully" theirs since they had paid for it. Referring to me as a "little girl" and telling me not to get "all hysterical," they continued to attempt to bully me into allowing them to take the shed.
My growing anger revealed itself as I glared at the two and they found that very amusing. There was no way I was going to just let them walk away with the shed. However, I wanted them and their silly grins gone. I told them they could have the shed if one of them gave me his license so that I could copy his name and address. The mouthier one of the two handed over his license, laughing at me in the process. I copied the information.
As they were leaving the kitchen, the mouthier one turned to me and said, "You gonna do something about that stupid dog of yours out there? He's in the way."
He was correct about Bingo being in the way. He was tied to his doghouse, which was only a few feet from the shed. I didn't want him to get hurt. I knew he wouldn't harm them. He was all bark and no bite. I held his collar as the men approached the shed. It wasn't an easy task. Bingo continued to bark, growl, and lunge at the men. It took all my strength to hold onto him.
Suddenly, the men began to jump around and scream, as they slapped at themselves and the air. When they had picked up the last part of the shed, they had disturbed a nest of wasps. Wasps were everywhere. Before I could act on my fast growing sense of panic, I felt Bingo's body press against the side of my leg. He had stopped barking, growling, and lunging. He stood quietly, keeping his body firmly pressed against my leg. I reacted instinctively and followed his lead. Neither of us moved a muscle. The wasps were everywhere, buzzing around us. The men continued jumping, slapping at the wasps, and screaming. After a few minutes, the wasps disappeared.
Each of the men had been stung several times. As they were leaving one of them said to me, "How come you and your stupid dog didn't get stung?"
I smiled for the first time since the arrival of the two men and said, "I guess my stupid dog is the smartest one here!" He looked at me as if I had two heads. He didn't get it. I don't think he even understood that I was being sarcastic when I referred to Bingo as "my stupid dog." It didn't matter because I knew Bingo had saved the day. His keen instincts saved him from the wasps, and his big heart saved me.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Look What I Found!!
Hooray!! Yesterday, I saw a patch of the ground, the bare-naked ground for the first time in months. Better than that, there was a patch of green. Moss never looked so good to me. I heard more birds during this past week. Crows cawing and the low whistle-like call of of evening grosbeaks fill the air. Mourning doves visit the feeder along with the regulars - chickadees, nuthatches, downy woodpeckers, hair woodpeckers, and titmice. I think I even heard a dark-eyed junco and caught a glimpse of a chipping sparrow. Dave heard a phoebe.
We still have quite a bit of snow, but the melting continues revealing more patches of beautiful earth. Tonight's forcast is for more snow, which will end as freezing rain and then plain rain. I'm not worried. I think we have turned the corner. A few nights ago, when I took my nightly peek at the sky before going to bed, the scent of spring greeted my nostrils. I breathed in deeply and slept very well with visions of spring flowers dancing in my head. :-)
Web Weaver Graphics
Friday, March 14, 2008
Thursday, March 13, 2008
Please, No More Snow! LOL
I can say that all I want, but it looks like the snow is determined to break its own record set in the 1800's. We only have a few inches more to go to reach that goal. The latest weather forcast predicts more snow, ice and rain. Thankfully, a lot of what we had so far has finally melted. I can't wait to see the ground again.
This was taken early last week. That little spot of black near the street is my mailbox.
Here is a closer view of the mailbox and the street. The banks were getting high.
This is the path leading from the house to the driveway. The snow on the path itself was a good six inches of an ice pack dusted with snow. The sides just kept growing taller and taller.
I have to admit that as weary as I am of all this snow, it sure is pretty glistening in the sun!
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