TO TELL THE TRUTH

                                                                             

        Last week I had jury duty. It was a very long and  intense week. It was much more physical than I am used to anymore. I know I need to walk more than I do now. My fitbit doesn't often hit those numbers. I had to be out of the house earlier than I usually wake up.

Sometimes I think our system makes this as difficult as possible. In the three days before I was supposed to find out if my number was in the chosen group I got six text messages. One told me that I had been picked and needed to report in February. (This is April). Another said that was a mistake. The rest alternated between saying I had been chosen to report and that I may be expected to report. All said to be sure and call the night before. So I went ahead and cancelled appointments that had been scheduled weeks ago-just in case.

This was my third time. The first time I was only there for a couple of days while we decided who would pay for the hood ornament of a car for a minor accident. It was exciting because I was a stay-at-home mom to several little ones and I got to go have lunch with grown-ups! The second time my number was high and all I had to do was call.

This time was the real thing. We spent all of Monday listening to them pick the jury. The lawyers asked all sorts of questions. I didn't think I would get picked, because they didn't ask me very many. Often I think I have a tendency to be invisible in groups. We were cautioned against showing any sympathy or empathy or using our intuition. That's really very difficult. I live by my intuition!

Several were eliminated because they said they couldn't be unbiased. One man said he believed in "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth". He went home right away. Another said he couldn't listen and pay attention all day, and that he would need naps. That got him off too. 

A lot of jury duty involves sitting around and long waits. One day we had a surprise three hour lunch break. That was the day I bought cheese and crackers at the Dollar Store because I couldn't find a place to eat. Most of them brought their lunches or didn't mind walking several blocks. I think I was  the oldest juror. I was happy to take the elevator while most of them cheerfully took the stairs to the third floor. The Courthouse is beautiful and has wonderful and magnificent stairways. Ever since my unfortunate encounter with an acorn just a few days before my trip to Italy, stairs have been difficult for me. Especially so many of them eight times a day! 

It was a very emotional case and I am sure it will stay with me. Did we make the right decision? I hope so. It was hard listening to the evidence and knowing that life can change forever in a split second. And that what we decided will affect some person's life forever. I will be very grateful if this is my last time as a juror.

What I'm reading: I have always been fascinated by early Rome and Pompeii. Lately I have just finished a trilogy called Wolf Den by Elodie Harper. It is about the Roman caste system and slavery and the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Since I have been there, it was especially interesting to me. The language is sometimes crude, but the scenes are not explicit.

BIRTHDAY MEMORIES

Today I am reprinting a column from 2022. It's my dad's birthday and now he would be 101 if he hadn't left us at the age of 66.

Today would have been my dad's 95th birthday. He has been gone since 1993, but lives on for those of us who knew him. He was a great father, but not a typical one. He was a man who lived by his own rules, and I think he expected the same of his children. Most of the time when I think of him, either cars or trucks come into the picture. He dropped out of school and worked as a truck driver around the country. He loved racing, and I think he was happiest when he was at a track. I went to my first stock car race when I was two weeks old. I was in a basket in the stands. I'm sure that Mom insisted we go, because the week before, he had brought us home from the hospital, bought her a pint of ice cream, and then he went to the races. Oh, and it was her birthday. He was a great dad, but I'm not really sure how he rated as a husband.

My parents moved to Texas twice in my first two years. I spent a lot of time with an aunt and uncle of my mother's because they both worked miles away. It's strange for me to think of my formative years being with family I don't ever remember meeting. Mom hated Texas. Dad loved it. 

Finally, she talked him into moving back to Iowa, and they bought a house when I was three. She needed stability while he thrived on adventure. When I was about four he was in a serious accident. During a race, he flipped his car six times. I was at the concession stand, buying cotton candy, and when I came back they were on the way to the hospital. She made him promise to quit driving. I think he could have just as easily promised to quit breathing. He kept it up, just using another name.

He used to have a truck route for a Des Moines dairy, and took me around to collect the milk cans from Iowa farms. During our long drives together, we would play "count the windmills," and "name the license plates."  I learned all about Dizzy Dean, his favorite baseball player. Dizzy didn't like to follow the rules either. We listened to country music, and Mario Lanzo.  He wasn't a religious man, but loved to listen to old time hymns.

He had a very strong sense of justice. Once, I took a pack of gum from a store. Probaby Juicy Fruit. When I showed him my treasure, he turned the car around immediatly, and marched me back into the store to confess. That ended my life of crime.  He was very big on sharing what you have with others, and passed that on to us. He liked to tell us about airplanes that he and his brother got for Christmas one year. A neighbor child hadn't gotten any Christmas toys. His mother made him give his away, and share his brother's plane. He wasn't happy about it, but knew it was the right thing to do. Dad always had a story with a lesson. I think they were true. At least most of them.

I was an only child for five years. By the time I was fifteen, I was older sister and babysitter to four siblings. He wasn't conventional. He was never like any of the other fathers I knew. We were the only family I knew with a giant milk dispenser in our kitchen, and regulation school playground equipment in our back yeard. The things he brought home for us to play on were considered too dangerous for our friends. For many years he sold cars and trucks, and once I learned to drive, I never knew what I would be driving to school. My most embarrassing was the car with "Joey Chitwood, Stunt Driver" painted on the side. There are so many stories, now that I am remembering. When he was Race Promoter, he managed to get the governor to be the flag man at one of the races. For my dad, nothing was ever impossible. Happy Birthday, Lefty. I miss you

                 

 

TRADITIONS

Our country has often been compared to a melting pot. It's filled with many cultures, customs, and traditions.  A lot of our citizens have kept the traditions alive from their native histories. Especially now, with genealogical information readily available, it is easy to celebrate our histories. We can add or eliminate what we want. 

Even though I can trace my family tree through many generations, my own family never thought of themselves as belonging to a specific background. So as I grew, I was often one to pick and choose. I don't really remember a lot of specific traditions, except for an Easter lamb cake that a favorite aunt would make and bring to our house. It wasn't religious. My religion was always whatever the neighbors were. I think they may have thought it was an obligation to see that I got to church. It must have worked. By the time I was an adult, I had been baptized three times. While I chose the one I thought I wanted to stick with, I've always been referred to as a "convert"

I think it's wonderful how families have specific foods and food traditions for the holidays, but ours was always pretty generic.

I married into an Irish family and have always loved the history and traditions. As I raised my family we took a lot of the music, literature, food, and customs as our own.

My own bloodline is primarily English, with a little bit of French, German, Swiss, Irish, and Scandinavian. I always wanted to be something exotic, but I guess the English bit says a lot about who I am. Anyone for tea?

Lately I have been reading about the Swedish system "Lagom". Some books say that Lagom is the most Swedish word there is. It means "not too little, but not too much". It is also living in harmony, with a steady balance and moderation in all things. It may be a little like Marie Kondo's "spark joy", but it isn't all about simplifying and living with the minimal. It's more about choosing what you need.

I was recently having lunch with a friend and I noticed that she never completely finished her food. Since I've always been a member of The Clean Plate Club, I asked her why she always left part of her meal. She told me she was taught that you should always leave something to show that you had eaten enough, and that plenty of food was served to satisfy you. I had never heard that before, but I thought that must be an example of Lagom. Oh, and she is Swedish.

So once again, I think I am becoming a convert.

I'd love to hear about any family traditions that you have. 

Reading: I am still reading books my Lindsey Davis. I just finished "Pandora's Boy".

APRIL DAYS

 

I spend more hours than I should just wondering where the time goes. I started this post on the last day of March, and here it is the second day of April. How did that happen? It seems like 2026 just started and now we have sailed through the first quarter.

Yesterday was April Fool's Day. I didn't write on Wednesday, so that must be my contribution to the silly jokes, and general tomfoolery. It is a holiday that I don't usually bother with very much. If I can't decorate for it, I guess I don't give it much thought. And more and more, I am confused whenever I listen to the news, whether something is true or not. When I see something on social media, I always need to ask for confirmation. It reminds me of the times many, many years ago when my first husband needed to listen to the radio all night in order to stay asleep. We always listened to the English BBC channel, and I would hear startling or upsetting news and think that I dreamed it. I was probably one of the first people in the States to hear about Princess Diana's death. It was the middle of the night here when I heard the news and I was sure it was a bad dream. There were also many stories about war and conflicts all over the world that we didn't really hear much about on the local news. It's a wonder I could sleep at all.

Something else that I just learned about the BBC (British Broadcasting Corporation) is that on April 18, 1930, they announced that "There is no news" and just played piano music for the duration of the broadcast! That decision was made because there was nothing of significance that the public needed to hear that day. Can you imagine? And it wasn't even April 1st! Today we have more news than we can handle.

April comes from a Latin word meaning "to open" because it is the time when buds begin to unfurl and flowers open. It's also a time of unpredictable weather. We are having lots of rain, (and some hail), which is quickly turning the grass to a lovely green. It's all seemed very brown when it wasn't snowy. Last week the temperature hit ninety degrees one day and then it snowed. I should just keep a coat in my car. I went out yesterday without one and that was a mistake.

April is National Poetry Month. It began in 1996 by the Academy of American Poets so take a moment to pause and read a poem a day.

April 1-April Fools' Day

April 1-9- Passover

April 5- Easter

April 9- Unicorn Day

April 10- Siblings Day

April 12- Grilled Cheese Day

April 15- Income Tax. Don't forget

April 22- Earth Day

April 24- Arbor Day

April 30- Make Up Your Own Day

"April Showers Bring May Flowers" or "April is the Cruelest Month" Take your pick. 

My "Mail a Letter Every Week is going a little slowly, but I will be sending my first letters tomorrow. Let me know if you would like one.

Reading: THERE WILL BE BODIES by Lindsey Davis. Part of a series of historical fiction about ancient Rome. I am deeply fascinated and hope to read the entire series. The library isn't co-operating so it may take a while.

READING AND WRITING

 I was completely and totally mesmerized by this novel. I started to read it a few nights ago and finished it the next day. (304 pages). It is a book that will stay with me. Basically, it is about a woman in her seventies who has been writing letters to people for most of her life. The book covers the correspondence between 2012 and 2022. There are letters to people she loves and has loved, people she admires, people she is upset with, people she never got along with at all, and people she has never met. She writes to authors to let them know what she thinks of their books. Almost everyone answers her letters. Sometimes a new friendship starts. That's it. The entire book is letters, except for a few emails. I have learned this is called an epistolary. I may have already known that. It is like reading some one's diary, but maybe with permission. Little by little we discover the joys and sorrows and regrets of her life, and our own. There are parts of this book that I really identify with, but most of it is very different than the person I am. I do love the way she organizes her life, and sits at her desk with her favorite pens and paper and beautiful penmanship. She and her dearest friend always close their letters by adding the name of whatever book they are reading.

One of the reasons that I am so taken with this book, is that I recently resolved to start writing letters again. A few weeks ago, I copied a "pledge" to write at least one letter every Sunday. I haven't gotten very far with it yet, but I have hope.

When I was younger, I wrote a lot of letters, and almost always had a penpal. For most of my teen years, I wrote to a girl in India. Her name was Aruna, and we sent each other little gifts. She always wanted me to come visit. And then we both grew up and grew apart. I had another pen friend from the east coast. She was named Faith and seemed to live a life that was much wilder and adventurous than mine. Maybe it was real, but I never knew. She would sneak out of her house at night, and meet up with older boys, and then send me long letters about them. Perhaps she writes steamy novels about them now. I had a lot more in common with Aruna. I had many friends that I kept in touch with through letters for a long time. Now we sometimes email or communicate through Facebook. Not as much as I want to, though. I regret the times I didn't write when I should have.  Now that I have decided to write again, maybe I will be able to do that. I've bought real stationery and may try fountain pens again. And sealing wax. Oh, the possibilities. 

 Not every one of the Moran-Daugherty-Brafford clan was able to get together yesterday to celebrate the High Holy Day of St Patrick, but we had a small yet enthusiastic showing. John and I left early but I'm sure there was some singing going on later in the day. I can say without bragging that my kids know the words to just about every Irish song that was ever written. I've put my Irish music away for awhile, and I'm pretty sure that John is happy about that. Even though he is a lot more Irish than I am, he only knows the basics when it comes to Irish music.

We've celebrated lots of St. Paddy's Days over the years and I'm sure it's a tradition that will keep on going.

We met at Captain Roys, which I'm sure was just about the most festive place in our city. My daughter, Meghan spent weeks making decorations. There were lots of green paper chains, buntings, lights, and shamrocks. 

I tried to show a really good video, but I guess that is beyond my capabilities. So, use your imagination. It was grand, as they would say in the old country.

Well, the holiday is over now, so I will just leave you with one more Irish thought.

"May you always have walls for the wind.

A roof for the rain.

Tea beside the fire.

Laughter to cheer you,

Those you love near you,

And all that your heart might desire"

Wearin' of the Green

 

It's almost time for St. Patrick's Day, which is an American holiday where everyone is Irish. And if you're not, then you should be. St. Paddy's Day was a holy day in Ireland, to honor St. Patrick, who actually wasn't Irish at all. He was originally from Britain and from a wealthy family. As the story goes, he was kidnapped by Irish pirates as a young man and ended up in pagan Ireland. He eventually became a missionary and Bishop in the Christian church. Legend tells us that he used a shamrock to teach the concept of the Trinity. He is also said to be responsible for driving all of the snakes out of Ireland.  He is thought to have died on March 17, in the year 470 or 471. That became his Feast Day. It didn't become a public holiday until 1901. It remained a religious day for many years. The pubs were even kept closed on March 17 until 1970. The first official government sponsored St. Pat's Festival was in 1995 in Dublin. The original purpose was to promote tourism and boost the economy.

There is a very large Irish population in the United States, and most of them love to celebrate this day. It is customary to wear at least a little something green. That will keep you from getting pinched by a leprechaun. It's better to be safe than sorry.

The first Irish parade that was recorded in North America was in New York City in 1762. Irish soldiers in the British army marched to Irish music on March 17 to honor their heritage. Now there are parades on this day all over the world.

In my own family, my children claim to be nearly one hundred percent Irish. That isn't possible since Ancestry.com claims that only  about six percent of my blood is green. The rest they got from their dad. We all know just about every Irish song, so I'm sure that qualifies. And I think every one of us has an Irish sense of humor.

Quiet Down Cobwebs

According to the American Cleaning Institute, National Spring Cleaning Week will be here soon. Always beginning on the fourth Sunday of March, it will start on March 22 and go until March 28. It's almost time to get those feather dusters flying. The word is out that 92% of the population still engages in spring cleaning.

Ritual cleaning has been a part of this time of year for thousands of years. Over three thousand years ago, ancient Persian women called it "shaking the house". Sweeping the dust away and removing clutter was thought to bring good luck. It was also a time for purification. Throughout the ancient world, brooms, brushes, and sea sponges were used to get rid of grime and houses were scrubbed from top to bottom.

Springtime is traditionally a time for renewal. In winter our bodies produce less melatonin (the sleepy hormone). The combination of sunlight and warmer weather make us want to open the windows and freshen things up.

Let's move on from ancient times and look at the nineteenth century. Even though the Victorians didn't invent spring cleaning, they did make it extremely popular. After a winter of coal fires, ashes, oil lamps and woodsmoke, everything in a house needed a good cleaning. It was time to focus on a higher level of detail. Time to brighten up the nooks and crannies, and, in the process, to turn the house topsy turvy. And there were rules. 

Mrs. Beetons Book of Household Management was written in 1861 and it gives us rules for nearly every situation.

"Begin at the top of the house and work down. Move everything out of the room. Scrub the floor. Beat the feather beds and mattresses and replace the curtains."

A place for everything and everything in its' place.

And the Golden Rule: Start at the top and then bottom out the room. Dry rooms were to be done first, and then the wet rooms. There were several opinions on which should done first. Should it be dusting or sweeping and mopping?

Throughout the year schedules have remained fairly consistent to cover all the necessary tasks. Here's one from the 1920's:

Monday-Laundry

Tuesday-Mending and Sewing

Wednesday-Silver, Pantry, Ice Box  "Afternoon Out"

Thursday- (Alternate Weeks) Living Room, Hall Stairs or Dining Room, Hall, Stairs

Friday- Bedrooms, Bath

Saturday- Kitchen, Closet, Ice Box

I like this one. It has an afternoon out and a sewing day!

I still see a lot of embroidered dishtowels in antique shops with "Days of the Week" pictures on them, but I don't think a lot of women keep such rigid housekeeping schedules now. I didn't grow up with disciplined schedules, but my mother-in-law had them. I think she shook her head at my mad-dash ways a lot of the time, but we grew to understand one another. When I was a teenager, I had a friend who could never go anywhere on Saturday mornings because that was the day they rearranged the furniture. Every Saturday morning!

My own version of Spring Cleaning is probably more like Mole's in a favorite children's book. We both work very hard until we get distracted.

The Wind In The Willows by Kenneth Grahame

The Mole had been working very hard all the morning, spring- cleaning his little home. First with brooms, then with dusters; then on ladders and steps and chairs, with a brush and a pail of whitewash; till he had dust in his throat and eyes, and splashes of whitewash all over his black fur, and an aching back and weary arms. Spring was moving in the air above and in the earth below and around him, penetrating even his dark and lowly little house with its spirit of divine discontent and longing. It was small wonder, then, that he suddenly flung down his brush on the floor, said 'Bother!' and 'O blow!' and also 'Hang spring-cleaning!' and bolted out of the house without even waiting to put on his coat. 

The Kindness of Strangers

 I notice a lot of things when watching British mystery tv. Of course everybody drinks a lot of tea. And when the detective interviews someone about a suspect or a victim over a cuppa, the person will almost always say, "I really don't know anything about it. He kept himself to himself." We don't hear that here in the United States, because most people love to talk, especially about themselves and their history. 

I don't usually think of myself as someone who is an oversharer. At least not in person. When it comes to writing, I am much more likely to spill the tea. Does anyone else wonder what that means? Well, I looked it up. I thought it was a new saying, but it has actually been a bit of American slang since the 1980's. It means to tell the truth about something scandalous, dramatic or juicy.

One thing I notice a lot is that people tend to think that no one overhears when they are talking on a cellphone. I am always surprised at the ones who will talk loudly on speakerphone when they are out shopping. Just the other day I felt like I was following a woman at Target because I could hear her conversation from several aisles away. She was telling a friend very intimate details about her divorce and custody hearing and talked the entire time she was in the store.

A few days later I was in the pharmacy, when a man looking at greeting cards shared family stories with a stranger who was also looking at cards. They weren't good stories, and I'm surprised he was actually buying cards for people he disliked so much. Not to be out done, she also had her share of horror stories. Once again, they were very loud, and I could easily hear them from several aisles away.

Now if you are starting to get the idea that I am just a creepy eavesdropper sort of person, I'm really not. Anyway, not most of the time. For the sake of clarity, I will admit that during the time when I was alone and lonely I used to deliberately listen to old married couples in restaurants. More than once I fought off the urge to go to their tables and tell them to be nicer to each other.

There are also people who want to share happy times. There is a cashier I see in another store who tells everyone the story of how his parents met. He enjoys it every time he repeats it, and I try to take the time to listen.

Sometimes it is easier to share things with strangers than with those we know. When I was going through sadness and misery, I remember more than one occasion when I cried with women who were there for me in the very worst moments, but I never saw them again. I will always think of them as my angels and remember the kindness they gave me when I desperately needed it.

It is a good thing to share connections and experiences with other people. Let's just try not to do it loudly and publicly.

Bright and Balanced

I have a "collection" of articles and journal thoughts that I have written over the years. Sometimes I go through them when I am looking for ideas. A lot of them were first written over twenty five years ago (and more) when my life was much busier and more complicated. Now they are out of date and have to be modified a bit if I want to use them. An example is my article about my first new cell phone. Most of my writings during those busy years was about organizing, procrastinating, housekeeping, families, holidays, and keeping everything in balance. I guess I still like to write about a lot of those subjects, but my perspective is a lot different now. My opinions are still probably about the same.

A favorite article was about balance. It was inspired by a visit to a coffee shop with a friend. This was so long ago that the offerings were just plain old coffee instead of all the fancy concoctions that we see now. The pots were labeled with the flavor and descriptions. The first one I saw was Vivid and Vibrant. It sounded exciting and mysterious. My friend went right to the brew labeled Rich and Robust. We had just been discussing finances and health, so I thought that was a perfect choice for her. After a little thought, I decided on Bright and Balanced.

Balance has always been one of my favorite words. I have a tendency towards balance in whatever I do. I never want too much of one thing or not enough of another. I've always felt more even when there is balance in my life. 

But, I have learned that it isn't always easy to keep that balance. Sometimes, our lives just get too busy. I have found myself going in too many directions at once and trying to accomplish too much. These are the times when we feel like we are trying to juggle bricks and feathers. No matter what we do it is hard to keep our lives at an even keel.

For me there are some classic hints when things begin to tip too far in one direction. Does this sound familiar? Are you suddenly missing appointments even when you've written them down? Or have you stopped writing things down, and just trust your memory? I can never do that. A few days ago, I completely forgot an afternoon with my crafting group that I had really been looking forward to. I hadn't done much of anything for several weeks because of my dreaded battle with shingles. They all had a lovely time without me but did make a darling bird's nest on a spring for me. I didn't get to have any of the treats though. I heard it was a very fancy tea party.

Perhaps you've noticed that you are misplacing your keys, or locking them in your car. If so, that is a sure sign that your life has gotten too complicated and out of balance. Take a deep breath, now e-x-h-a-l-e, and decide what you can eliminate.

When you add something new to your life, do you also give up something? Or do you keep squeezing in one more thing, one more appointment, one more event? Of course you do. We all want it all, and we want it all right now. Unfortunately, that isn't what we usually get.

Instead we may get tired and discouraged, because we are trying to handle too many things at once. If this sounds familiar, then it's time to start putting balance back into your life. Get some extra keys made and keep copies of your passwords and card numbers where you can get to them. I like to disguise them as phone numbers in my address book.

My life is so simple and uncomplicated now compared to how it used to be. I sometimes wonder if feeling unbalanced is because we are getting older and not because we are too busy. I'm not even going to mention that someone who shall remain nameless forgot to change from his slippers to his shoes when we went out to dinner a few nights ago. I might be getting punished for sharing that. I just lost half of this post when I tried to publish it and had to write it again. It may be too late for me to be Vivid and Vibrant.

LOVECHARMS AND POTIONS

 Today I have a few of my favorite things to share. They are gypsies, flowers, love charms, and tea. If you take the time to look at old cards and other ephemera, you will notice that these items appear often. What could be better for Valentine's week?

There are lots of superstitions and charms about love. Maybe we can try a few. Here's a card trick for you. Draw all the face cards from a deck of cards, put them in a stocking on Friday night and place the stocking under your pillow. When the sun rises on Saturday morning (Valentine's Day!) draw a card. If it's a King it means a speedy marriage. A Queen will mean no marriage at all. And a Jack is a seducer who will surely give you trouble. Diamonds are riches. Hearts mean true love, Spades are thrift, and clubs are for poverty. This is from Fontaine's Golden Wheel Fortune and Dream Book, which was published in 1862. I'm not sure the odds are very good for this one, but you take your chances. 

There are many counting rhymes. Some use cards or flowers or birds. Most of us have pulled petals off a daisy while saying "He loves me, He loves me not." Haven't we? We can get a little more dramatic with this:

He loves me.

He don't.

He'll have me.

He won't.

He would if he could, but he can't.

How about this one?

1-I love

2-I love

3-I love, I say

4-I love with all my heart

5-I cast away

6-He loves

7-She loves

8-They both love

9-He comes

10-He tarries

11-He courts

12-He marries

There are more, but you get the idea.

Many of the old sayings and charms involved flowers, birds, herbs and dreams. 

If you keep a dried stalk of yarrow, it will bring you seven years of married bliss. Nine stems will bring lasting love. If a man takes a sprig of basil from the hands of a woman he will love her forever. But, never cut parsley or you will have bad luck in love. You don't want to take that chance, so pinch it off when you need a little garnish.

If you want to make a wish, write it on a sage leaf and put it under your pillow. Sleep on it for three nights. If you dream of what you desire, then you will get it. If you don't then bury the sage.

This also works if you place lavender under your pillow. Think of your wish. You only get one chance for this one.

And finally, on the night before Valentine's Day pin five bay leaves to your pillow. Wear a freshly washed night gown and say:

Good valentine, be kind to me

In dreams let me my true love see.

And John, just to let you know, you're my cup of tea!

A Fish Story

 

Yesterday was John's birthday. He is 82. I don't know if he would want me to tell you that, but after all, this is my blog so I can say whatever I want. For his birthday we decided to get a fish. We have a picture here of Mr. Fish. This is the closest thing we have had for a pet since I have been part of this family.

We spent a lot of time discussing this and wondering if we were ready. Pet ownership, after all, is a big responsibility. I have never had a fish. Several years ago, John had a goldfish who was also named Mr. Fish. He lived several years. He seemed to have a real relationship with Mr. Fish, because there are family stories about how he would tickle Mr. Fish's belly. I guess they were very close.

We talked about the name for our new family member. John wanted Mr. Fish 2. I vetoed that because everyone should have their own name. I am Mrs. Brafford 2 but would really like to be called by my first name. I think our fish would feel the same. We decided on the name Rudolfo.

We also talked about where to put him. John wanted the coffee table. I didn't. My vote was the mantel or maybe the top of the desk. If there was going to be any belly tickling going on, I didn't want it in my direct line of vision.

So as you can see, we did not make this decision lightly. We googled and read reviews and picked a local store that sounded promising. When we got there, the building was open, but no one was there. When we went back to our car we noticed some activity next door, so we went inside. We discovered that the owner was in the middle of downsizing and wouldn't really have anything available for a few weeks. We were disappointed because we really wanted to buy local. We googled again and decided to try a big box pet store on the other side of town. This was like a pet supermarket. They had everything pet related we could think of. Everything, that is, except fishbowls!

Did you know that fishbowls are considered inhumane? I didn't. I thought that a fish would happily live in a fishbowl. Not true. Modern fish need fish tanks. And if they are goldfish then they need very big fish tanks. After hearing how terrible we were for wanting a goldfish bowl we decided to try again. The next store didn't have very good reviews but we thought we would give it a try. The reviews were right. The building was very old and dirty, but the owner was very knowledgeable about fish. Once again we heard how no one has a fishbowl anymore and that we really needed a big ugly tank. I was holding a small one that I thought might be a possibility when there was a sudden movement by our feet. I screamed and jumped as a mouse ran by, barely missing my shoe. The owner said, very nonchalantly, that he usually catches about four a day. I didn't drop the tank, which was a good thing. But by this time we decided we weren't ready to be fish parents yet.

We changed to his alternate birthday gift which was a sports jacket. We drove back across town to the big mall. We hadn't been there since John bought a suit for our wedding. He still gets online ads  from the store at least once a week. When we got there we couldn't find the store. Finally we learned that it closed a few years ago! So we tried another store and he found a perfect fit. Then we looked at the price tag, and it was over seven times our budget! That is why I never shop at the big mall!!!

One more time, across town again. He found the right jacket at the right price, and everyone was happy. We ended the day with a nice birthday dinner with family. The only problem there was a nice gift card for a movie theatre which no longer accepts them. There aren't any AMC theatres in our area anymore. Who knew? Obviously, not us.

I do hope this doesn't indicate how our year is going to be. At least my birthday is several months away.

I've always been a bit political. When I was a senior in high school, I was a Senate page in our Iowa legislature. It was a wonderful experience, and I happily missed my last school semester to be able to work at our state capitol. Our session (1967!!) was the longest one and didn't adjourn until July.  We sat on a bench and answered a bell when a senator wanted something. This ranged from taking messages to the governor and other offices, to picking up bills from the library, to getting a candy bar from the lunch room. We each had a shift in the phone room, and took phone messages to them. There was a row of phone booths where they answered their calls. This room was also where all the lobbyists hung out. There was a lot of "wheelin' and dealin' " back then, I think. We also learned a lot about the way the government worked and had weekly sessions where we went over the bills and discussed them.

Of course, there was a lot of fun too. I probably knew about all the nooks and crannies, attics, and secret tunnels in the Capitol building. It was a very innocent time, with no scandals going on that I ever knew about.

In the photo above, I am the shortest one, and I still have the same hairstyle today!

In 2010 I worked at the Legislature again. This time I was one of the telephone operators for the House. Our main job was to transfer phone calls to each of their phones. I think most of the calls went to voice mail and then it was their job to return them. We were in a separate room so I didn't get to see most of the proceedings. We did get to listen to some of the meeting though. I learned a lot about how state governments work. There is so much pressure put on the representatives and senators to vote with the party. There is much more pressure in Congress. They need to be reminded that they are the voice of the people who elected them.

I saved all the daily calendars and papers and put them into a junk journal with photos. It was an interesting way to remember moments of the session. This one was one of the shortest ones and ended after three months.

Over the years I have gone to a few political rallies and protests, but probably not as many as I should. I have so much admiration for the citizens in Minnesota right now. And even more fear. I am afraid for them, and for the immigrants, and for our country. I am afraid for the relationships and friendships that may be damaged beyond repair. I urge everyone to call their legislators and let them know what you think. They document those calls even if you don't speak to them directly.

You are allowed to say, at any point, I can't support this. Even if you did. Even if you were unsure. You can at any point say "this has gone too far." And while the best time to say that was earlier, second best time is now.

(I don't know who said this first. I have seen it several times on the internet. If you know, tell me and I will credit it.)