The Four Horsemen of the Weather Channel
A BIG salad is already prepped and waiting on the kitchen island for DH to arrive home - after band practice. At the moment, all TV channels are issuing storm warnings near here and the sky is dark and scary. I just hope DH (who is at band rehearsal), has missed the worst of the wind, or has sense enough to stay put until the storm passes. Reports are that the front is moving fast AND away from us, so his drive home could be later and preferably, dry. Rains like this surely mean the drought is over.
Last night was May DOQ Guild meeting. The whole evening was a bummer. First, I took with me some diagrams and pricing to make a salable note card with envelope to promote the guild’s raffle quilt for the October Quilt Show. However, I got to talk to no one on the committee. Second, the speaker, a lovely lady, one Glenda Alexander, came with a program of slides on her laptop. Nothing. Nothing at all would connect her laptop with the house projection system to display on big screens. She had to talk her entire presentation - not a single visual for over an hour. Bummer.
That kept me awake for half the night. Once upon a time, when you were young, I was a color/design consultant making slide presentations on a regular basis. I have had projectors fail, screens tip over, paint cans fall off the stage, audience interruptions, inconsiderate people trip over the cord and disconnect the projector, slides would stick in the carousel and light bulbs burn out. Also the house lights have gone out, my luggage never arrived, the handouts were mailed to the wrong hotel, AND the airline cancelled my flight so my conference speech began ten minutes after my arrival (??).
You might think I should be over the tension and anxiety after more than a decade of retirement; not so. Glenda’s woes were too much like past suffering experience and the pain lingers forever. My heart ached for her but since I know nothing about Apple laptops - I could not help. All this meant I got very little sleep last night.
DH’s number 3 son, Michael, is making news. Year One of his studies in graphic design at Lane Community College has produced a portfolio deemed by his older brother to be ‘fantastic.’ He now awaits the faculty review of his work to determine if he is to be selected for the last year of the two-year certificate program. And one of his art submissions to a public art competition was selected by the Eugene Transit Authority for posting on buses. Yes, his art is being driven all over town! That alone is exciting to me.
Sister Jan and I had lunch yesterday to celebrate the healing report of his doctor and word that he does not want to see her again. That’s heel two of both heels in sequential years to have surgery. This week she can return to the Y pool, get back into her fitness routine which will, hopefully, include more walking.
Tomorrow my life will change. Since 1996 I have been ‘blond.’Not that I intended to be but I fell and broke my right wrist on Wednesday, on Thursday (with arm in a cast), DH drove me to Mr. Charles of Allenhurst. By noon my long brunette hair was suddenly short and blond. Over the next three months of recovery and physical therapy, I got used to it. That was nearly twelve years ago!
But yesterday at lunch I noticed that Jan’s hair has grown out, completely natural. And not all that gray, some really nice ‘streaking.’ It’s a bummer when your younger sister turns natural, so who am I kidding? Time to get real. NO color application tomorrow. Look me up in about six months to see what results. Or see if I return to being a ‘natural blond.’
Unfortunately, Jan’s mother-in-law is in a nursing home in New Jersey nearing the end of life. Our plans to celebrate Dear Hubby’s birthday in May has been postponed until Memorial Monday and if the mother-in-law dies first, we may not celebrate DH’s birthday until July. Jan is very good at making Bratwurst and Sauerkraut (her secret, not mine), and offers it every year to DH for his birthday. My contribution will be a Grand Mariner souffle, if dinner happens. If not, it’s back to the salad bar. B
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