iPhone apps

Everyone who knows me, knows I struggle to sleep.  I use Ambien and fall asleep, then am awake over and over through the night.  I have done the ambient music route, the less caffeine route, nothing really seemed to be of much benefit.  Then, I ran across an iPhone app called Sleep Cycle Alarm.  

This little beauty is beginning to get me on track.  You set the alarm, choose a sound you would like to wake up to, and before going to sleep, tap it to start, slide your phone, glass side down, under your fitted sheet in the corner of your bed, and then sleep.  It records your sleep cycles.  And, get this, instead of waking you up when you are in a deep sleep, it watches for a light sleep and then starts playing very softly, and by the time it is at full mode, I have woke up anyway, gently.  

I have learned about myself.  I need to be in bed and ready to sleep by 10 p.m.  That is in direct contrast to my normal bedtime, which is anywhere, usually, between 11:30 and 2:00 a.m.  Watching my graph on the Sleep Cycle Alarm has shown me that I need to have the book closed and the lights out by 10:00.  Not only that, but sleeping past 7:00 a.m. is not good for me.  Last night I was in the dark, so to speak, by 10:00, and at 7:00 this morning was up and ready to face the day. 

Springtime may have something to do with my better energy, too.  The birds are singing, I have been walking a lot, and have just generally been staying more active.  However, I am a big advocate of this alarm.  I have read that people are saying they can lay it on a desk at night, and it still generates a graph, but the thing is super sensitive and will pick up other movements besides your tossing around in bed.  I spent eight hours last night in sleep or deep sleep, and it did show me that at 1:00 a.m. I was awake.  I know that is correct as I got up to visit John at 1:00 a.m. and made it a point of looking at the time.  

I have used this alarm now for a week.  The first 2 nights I rarely went into even light sleep.  One morning it basically laughed at me:  "Because of the short duration of your sleep, this nap will not be averaged into your final weekly numbers."  What do you MEAN, "nap?"  That was a night's sleep for me!  I do feel I am learning my patterns now and intend to keep following this yellow brick road to getting off Ambien and sleeping deeply most nights.

Another aid?  Whole Foods Market.  Yes, I spent a ton on organic foods which some will tell you is just a waste of money, but within a week, eating nutritious, non-additive foods, my energy level increased, my metabolism sped up, and I have begun to drop a few pounds almost effortlessly.  Feeding my hyperactive grandson this way seems to be making him less grouchy, as well.

Another good app is the Whole Foods app.  With this one, which is free (can you say FREE?), I find recipes that sound easy and tasty, touch the "add to list" button so that all the ingredients are put on a shopping list, touch a button to add the recipe to my "favorites," and drive off to the Whole Foods Market in Louisville.  

So, this post is just a little catchup post.  I have a lot of photos and would like to share some travel experiences, and I will do that soon.  But if you are an insomniac, I am interested to find out if you have tried this app and what you think.  

Happy Dreams to you!  I will see you all around the bend.  xxoo

Waiting on Kathy

Hello, I'm Kathy.  

I recently spent a few weeks in Arizona, borrowing some space in my cousins' Bill and Tracy's beautiful home, and even Sadie, the Cocker Spaniel, made room for me in her life and daily routine. 

All three of the humanoids were stuck in the nightmare of having to keep up with our jobs, even though we really wanted to just be playing, but the last weekend, Tracy made arrangements for us to take a road trip to Tucson where were would hike in the Saguaro National Park, take in the Free Flight Raptor Show with the Harris Hawks as the stars, and snap hundreds of photos.  That night, we were going to have the pleasure of staying with Tracy's brother, Tom, and sister-in-law, Donna, and doing that brought back so many childhood memories for me.  It seemed fitting that we were all together again, laughing, shopping, eating, drinking.  

The following day, Sunday, Tom and Donna took us out into the middle of the desert, telling us there was a beautiful mission built out there.  I was doubting that, the further we drove, but suddenly, up popped this unbelievably gorgeous white building! Being Sunday, the parking lot was full with worshipers, but as soon as the last Mass was over, we were allowed in to tour the ornate building.  

 

 

San Xavier Mission, Tucson, Arizona

Breathtaking view when walking into the church

Yes, there was a gift shop.  When you put me into a place like this with a gift shop steps away, then a theme quickly arises, and this was it:  Waiting on Kathy.

Looking for Kathy:  Tom and Tracy

Waiting on Kathy:  Tom, Tracy, and Donna

Waiting on Kathy...again:  Tracy and Donna

Waiting for Kathy after sending Tracy to bribe her with Indian flat bread

 We had an awesome time.  There was so much to take in, so much beauty to try to capture with the lens, that I was awestruck, so I do not think anyone minded too much that I was disappearing.

This post is dedicated to my patient family, Tom and Donna Cox, and Tracy Pierson.  xxoo to all of you! 

THE DESERT LIVES

I have 2 homes.  I live in Indiana until I cannot tolerate winter for one more minute, then I hop on a jet and show up at my cousin's door to wait winter out in Phoenix, where it is perfect.  But in all the years I have been coming out here, I never really took the time to get out and explore the desert.  This time, though, Tracy had graciously planned, and friends Nancy and Annie graciously accepted to be tour guides for an all-day, round trip desert ratting experience into the desert world where, at first glance, it looks like nothing could live.  Upon second glance, though, not only do you realize the desert lives, you realize it lives beautifully and graciously and awe-inspiringly.  

I took many photos, but the one I am posting today just keeps drawing me to it.  The burrowing owl.  Do owls live in the desert?  No, would have been my answer yesterday morning, but yesterday afternoon, as we walked through a beautiful desert cemetery, out of a hole popped...an owl.  A real owl.  He posed.  He let me get closer, then finally he said, "Okay, close enough, lady, take the picture, here I'll pose, ho-hum, then hike the other direction before you make me upset and I come and land on your head and pull out your hair with my beak."  

After that, I decided I was close enough.  I zoomed in and got this shot of The Guard of the Burrows at the Cemetery.  I love him.

 Thanks to Tracy for arranging this fantastic day and especially to cousin Nancy and her best friend and forever resident of the desert, Annie, for being the driver and the knowledgeable and fun tour guide.  I love you all. 

MY Week in Photos...Inspired by my cousin.

First, it snowed.

Then I had my 54th birthday lunch at Black Buggy.

And dessert I did not need, but man was it good!

Then we had a full moon.

Then it snowed.

And it snowed the next day, too.

Then it got really icy.

Then it snowed.

Then I started dreaming of Spring!

The Feathered Community - A Short Story in Photos

"Okay, I think we might be lost...don't panic! WHERE ARE WE?"

"Look, Bozo!  I saw that seed first so technically it's mine!  Hurry and get your feathery little, ahem cute, red tail off of my food!  Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!"

"Why would I be embarrassed?  Embarrassed?  Me? Those stupid Finches were just wasting this food.  I am NOT too big for this feeder, just leave me alone!" 

"Uh, Mrs. Cardinal, see me?  This is how we do it.  We find a large Cardinal bell that we can comfortably hang on without tipping it upside down...like this.  See me?  Are you looking?  Over here!"

"Still not embarrassed, but a little claustrophobic."

"Oh, my, I hate it when they fight.  It just ruins the cadence of the whole day!  Oh, my, oh, my!"  "Look, sweetheart, don't let it ruin your day and...hey!  Don't bury yourself again!  THAT was embarrassing!  I looked all day for you!" 

CHRISTMAS COMES AND CHRISTMAS GOES

I am at a loss to explain how quickly life moves along when something fun, like the Holidays, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years, with family and friends filling the house, snow softly falling outside, a fire in the fireplace, and a great deal of commotion from all the mini-Me's in my life.  

I did come to a couple of conclusions about that jolly time of year, though.  See if you might agree with a couple of these:

1.  School is out way too long.  It was out even longer than necessary in our home because we mistakenly thought the winter break started one day earlier than it actually did.  In retrospect, that one day was about what it took to finish me off, but the five-year-old took it in stride and took the opportunity to see how long he could be bored and disgruntled, and I will tell you, he can carry it off for quite a few days in a row. 

He did make this nice card on the computer from one of my photos, a happy New Year card, and took on many other artistic endeavors during his vacation.

2.  Laundry has a way of procreating during winter break.  I do not do all the laundry.  My daughter and the above-mentioned grandson live here, too, and Jamie definitely does her share, but when she is too busy, I am back to clothes sniffing.  I really thought I was past that time in my life. I sniffed clothes that enabled my gag reflex for eighteen years, give or take, to determine their re-wear worthiness.  Now, I am doing it again.  Luckily, my grandson is sort of a clean freak, and he rarely has clothing lying around that is too grossly aromatic, but I have to admit, I will be pretty happy not to have to do that anymore.  

3.  You can only do Wii bowling for about ten hours total before you throw all gutter balls.  Enough said.

4.  I seem to have more headaches the longer everyone is on winter break.  I mean, forgive me, everyone, but ten or twelve days are just a little over the top to have to bunk with you all twenty-four hours a day.  Enough said.  

5.  Buying groceries is now ranked up there with one of the most depressing things I have to do, and there is not enough Xanax in the world to make it okay.  

Now, I am going to post a rather unclear photo of most of some of my family and some friends together on Christmas Day at my house where, despite all the gripes above, I cherish very much.  We just are all so lucky to be dropped into one another's lives, not randomly, either, I don't believe, and days like Christmas just slam home the beauty of that plan.  

Hope you all have a very happy New Year in 2011, and hope you all had a fantastic Christmas season.  

THE REST OF THE STORY - MIRACLE ON SEVENTH STREET

ADDENDUM:  When David's mama returned home from a long day at work at the Inn (the one with no rooms)...ha, I sent her in to take the laundry from the washer and to please start it drying.  I sort of huddled up back here in my office and scrunched down in my chair and waited for the bellowing scream I was sure would follow, because when sorting the dry laundry later, I realized a couple of Jamie's shirts must have gotten into David's load.  

Little David, little angel.  The light of my life.  My helper, my buddy, and probably the person I was soon going to have to protect, was upstairs dutifully cleaning his room.  I knew that because as he cleans his room, he sings nonsensical songs and repeats quotes from his favorite cartoon characters and jumps a lot.  Things like, "There's no need to fear, underwear is here!"  As he lobs it into the laundry basket.  Or, "To infiminy and beyond!" As he jumps from his bed and hook-shoots a shoe into the closet.  

So, back to the rest of the story.  I hunkered down and heard the dryer start, and there was no shrieking or anything, and before she headed back upstairs, I asked her to read this blog.  

Was I ever happy to see her laughing that hard about it!  Relieved, really, beyond words.  But, I also did not miss the little tip-toe shuffle back into the laundry room to check, just to check.  Still no shrieking!  David...whew.  That's all I can say, buddy, just "whew."  

I am now in the process of hiding all the cleansers and bleachy type products.  

Merry Christmas to everyone and to all a goodnight!  

CHRISTMAS STORY

It is not quite Christmas Day, but the Advent calendar tells us it is seven days away, one week, so before I get swept up in the mad pre-Christmas week madness, I wanted to share a Christmas Story.

We all know the story.  We know that Jesus was born on Christmas, and we are celebrating his birthday by giving the people we love gifts to celebrate.  We know that Mary and Joseph huddled in a manger for that virgin birth, and that the wisemen came from far and wide to offer up their presents to Jesus.  

But there is a newer story, one scribed on December 18, 2010, in Jasper, Indiana, and it is with awe and reverence that I share it with all of you.

"David?" I said, to my five-year-old grandson, the love of my life, who I was watching while his mother worked at the Inn (where there were no rooms).  It actually was the Holiday Inn Express, but you get the idea.

"What, Gramma?" He asked, his little cheeks pink, his excitement about Christmas barely contained.

"If you will do some chores for me, like go upstairs and clean your room, then clean the bathroom, and take the cardboard out to the recycling bin, I will give you your allowance early today."

Up the stairs he sprinted.  He can still sprint, you see.  He is five.  I do not sprint anywhere, much less up the stairs.  

Off he went.  I wanted him duly occupied while I showered because anyone who knows this gorgeous, precocious child, knows that I did not want him left to his own devices downstairs for even the seven short minutes I would be indisposed in the shower.  

But as happens sometimes, in situations like this, he had something very important to say, and he knocked quietly on the bathroom door just as I stepped out of the shower and said, in a whisper, "Gramma?"  

"Yes, David, what is it?  I'm just about out."

"Um, well, Gramma?  Which knob do you push to close the washing machine door?  I'M DOING MY OWN LAUNDRY!"  He was so excited to be doing something more for me than I asked, but his little revelation prompted a quick towel dry and a panicked voice from my side, "No, no, no, NO...David NO!"

The little boy who is the love of my life said, "It's okay, Gramma, I already put the blue stuff in."  

It took me all of thirty seconds to exit the bathroom, throw on a pair of jeans in my bedroom, and the dirty sweatshirt I had taken off and dash off to the laundry room. 

Panicked I said, "Okay, which blue stuff did you put in?"  He showed me the fabric softener.  We have a front-loading washer, one of the high-efficiency ones, so the liquids all go into compartments in a little drawer on the front, and by some miracle, he had gotten the Downy in the right one.  Of course, I do not have any idea how much Downy, but it was already flowing into the tub, so I have to take it on faith, (and is that not part of what Christmas is all about anyway?) that he put in close to the correct amount.

"David, this is so admirable of you, to want to do your own laundry, and it sure is a big help to me, but you need to first let me show you how to do it right, okay?"  

Next, I showed him how to measure the detergent, how many clothes he could wash at once, and how to set the correct time.  He was fascinated, and I am sure he will be until he is about six years old when doing his own laundry is way too difficult a task for him.  

When I found out he really could clean the bathroom and did a much better job than I do, it did not take me anytime to hand that job over to him and bribe him with a dollar bill to get it done.  I take full advantage of that service!

So, I did not have the courage to ask if he added bleach, and I carefully unloaded my own jeans and shirts he had put in with his.  After all, the element of surprise is also a part of Christmas, and this one might be the biggest one of my entire year!  

There are some words you cherish from your grandchildren at Christmastime:  "I love you, Gramma!"  "Would you teach me to bake cookies, Gramma?"  "I LOVE my gift, Gramma, thank you!" And "Merry Christmas, Gramma!"  

There are some words you should dread, if you have not gotten the opportunity to learn them on your own as of yet, just put these in your file for later use:  "I started my own laundry, Gramma!  I even already added the blue stuff, come look!"  

If those clothes come out the correct colors and not white and light pink, I will retitle this, "The Miracle on Seventh Street."

Merry Christmas to you all.  Have a safe and happy holiday!  

Photo by Kathy McWhirt:  Do Not Copy. 

THE DACHSHUND DIARIES

A couple of nights ago, my grandson was sitting on the sofa, eating a cheese stick, and watching some cartoons.  Annie, the Dachshund you can just TELL is near death from starvation, was standing guard, not to rescue David should something happen, but to make sure if so much as a crumb of cheese dropped, she was there to dive on it and consume it.  The photos I took are not very good because Jamie and I were laughing our butts off, but you will get the idea.  These photos were shot over a period of about ten minutes.  One thing about Dachshunds, they are unwavering and persistent!

Kid has food.  Dachshund wants food kid has.

Kid has FOOD.  Dachshund WANTS food kid has.

Kid has food.  DACHSHUND WANTS FOOD KID HAS!

KID HAS FOOD, DACHSHUND WANTS FOOD KID HAS!!

Okay, I can move down here to get the food the kid has.

SIGH!  Kid has food.  Dachshund wants food kid has.

 

DEAR AMAZON.COM

Yes, you...the retail .com giant.  The only place that can make me buy things I really don't need but really, really want with your convenient one-click buying option.  Oh, how easy it is to click on that tab!  I have, to date, read about 25 books at about 10 bucks apiece on my Kindle due to your one-click buying option.  Not only that, but I have an entire closet full of toys that seemed they would be fun for the children, that were tossed aside as soon as they realized the boxes they shipped in were much more intriguing.  (I know that's not your fault, so don't cry about that). 

But now, NOW!  What have you done to me?  You are EVIL!  Asking me if I want to download your site to load as tabs at the top of my page!?  OF COURSE I WANTED TO!  And now, I don't even have to navigate away from work to buy something I simply must have.  You evil, evil Amazon.com, oh how I love thee!  

HELP, I NEED SOMEBODY! HELP, SEND ME ANYBODY!

There is a five-year-old boy residing here!  You might wonder what the issue is.  Well, for one, I am used to living alone.  I am used to waking up every morning to the same routine and going to bed every night to the same routine.  I am used to walking out whenever I want and not having to tell anyone where I will be.


Due to some pretty dramatic and traumatic circumstances, my daughter and her five-year-old son have moved in for awhile.  A-W-H-I-L-E...because we all need them to have their own living space.  But until that is possible, we are cohabitating, which actually is not a bad deal at all.  She does the cooking and housecleaning, and even the mowing.  Well, as a matter of fact, yesterday, she washed my car. This is something I could get easily very used to.  

I work to make the money, which she will also be doing shortly, we hope.  Having their own living space is contingent on the money-making thing.  

And all just rolls right along, we do our thing.  But when I finally got the cobwebs out of my head this morning, I noticed, when glancing out back at my bird feeders, into my peaceful backyard, that there are two chairs stacked precariously on the knobby root system of the old box elder, a lantern and a couple of rather dried out peanut butter sandwiches are on the chair, and from eyeing it from the ground, I think that a small five-year-old wiry boy could probably reach the first branch of the box elder from the top chair and manage to use the rope tied around the lantern handle, to hoist that into the tree...

Thus, my opening statements:  Help, I need somebody!  

CHRIST OF THE OHIO

On this Labor Day, Don, his brother, Bob, and I set off for a cemetery adventure, looking for their descendants in a place called Troy, Indiana.  Somehow, after the cemetery walk, and it was great and there is a whole new picture blog of it ready to post as soon as I have time, I told them I was up to driving around there along the Ohio River as long as they wanted, but they had to feed me first.  So after a refreshing half-hour or so at a McDonald's in Tell City, Indiana, off we went again, this time to find a sculpture those two remembered from their childhoods, a huge statue that sat way up above the highway between those two little rural Indiana towns, that they had never seen up close.  

I doubted them, okay?  Surely, if there had been a huge sculpture up there, something that obviously was awe-inspiring to see, thirty miles from my house, I would have, after thirty or so years here, surely heard of it.  

Suddenly, though, they were like a couple of kids yelling, "I see it, I see it!!" and shouting directions to me about a possible road to it.  I did not see it from the road, of course, I was driving, and I was quite skeptical that these two guys were taking me anywhere but on a wild goose chase as we climbed higher and higher on a dirt road, but imagine my surprise when suddenly, I saw the statue, myself!  

They had never known what it was, had always assumed it was an angel sculpture, but to everyone's surprise, it was a gigantic sculpting of Christ and even had a name:  Christ On the Ohio.

We drove as far as we could, then hiked the rest of the way up a steep hill.  As we came up on the statue, we also came up on a gorgeous view of the Ohio River.  About half an hour and forty photos later, we hiked down, pretty much in awe, and I am going to share a few pictures with you here.

This is the Ohio River and what we saw as we topped the ridge.

Unexpected gem at the top of the ridge in Troy, IN.

The blue sky made the Christ sculpture even more fantastic.

Just an idea how massive this was.  We learned that a German immigrant who was an artist, was commissioned to build this on the property of a physician from Tell City, IN.  He completed it in 1956.

Let there be light, and there was light.

 

CAMPING AUGUST 2010

This past Friday, Don and I took the day off work, loaded up the four-wheeler and everything we needed to spend the weekend camping, and headed to his brother's land, a beautiful place to spend a weekend.  We set up camp, Bob came down from his house with us, we cooked, we drank, we fished, we rested our souls and here's how that looked in photos:

This was the view from my window of the tent.

The view from our front door.

The camp dogs, Dudette and Kid. 

Where we relaxed around the firepit.

The sun coming up early this morning over the ridge.

 Plans are being hatched for a big family campout but not until the daytime high is no more than 75 degrees.  I was so sweaty that when I got home today and got in the shower I nearly cried from the pleasure of it!  

We had such a great time, though.  I took my bottle of single-barrel vintage bourbon and drank a little over ice Friday and Saturday nights by the fire, the boys had beer, one of Don's nephews showed up for breakfast today...it was almost too relaxing!  

And I almost managed to get home with Kid, the young golden retriever, but Bob wrestled him out of the car at the last minute!  :-)

I hope your weekend was as awesome as mine.

OH, DEER

This morning I decided to try to alleviate a little stress by getting up early, grabbing the Canon and heading to the River Walk.  I just almost felt a pull to go there, eliminating, in my head, the Rock Garden and the cemetery, both pretty walks early in the a.m. 

Not much needs to be said.  I'll just post the photos I took.

First, after walking about 1/2 mile, I crossed this bridge which curves off to the right.

This little fawn was standing right on the other side of the bridge.  I would say we took each other by surprise, but that's not true.  This baby took ME by surprise but never did she act scared of me.

A SIGN OF REVERTING TO YOUNGER THAN MIDDLE-AGE

Several months ago, I caught the Ford Fiesta bug while watching American Idol.  For the entire winter, I would design mine in my mind.  Having owned a Ford Focus since 2000, I have grown very content with my green Myrtle, and I do have to admit that every time I would go park her in the dealership's lot while I ooohhhed and ahhhed over all the bright, shiny new Foci, I would glance over at Myrtle and see the expression of sadness on her face and get in and promise her I was just dreaming.  I love my car, but every now and then, I begin thinking how much I would love driving a brand new one again.  The Fiesta has been advertised widely for two years now, a tease, really, and I thought maybe they were just not really building that car but pretending to, until today I received an e-mail from the salesman at my local Ford dealership:  "Kathy, I just received my first 2011 Fiesta on the lot and thought you might like to come out and test drive." 

I swear that Myrtle already knows.  I know she knows.  She probably does not know I am scheming a way to keep her in the family, but she definitely knows that the butt she has gotten used to cradling for the past 76,000 miles is about to be replaced.  She is probably safe, though, for at least another couple of months because if I decide to revert back to my teenage days, then I want the car built to my specs with all the bells and whistles I find totally necessary:  A moon roof, Sirius satellite radio, and cloth seats, as well as a built-in GPS.  On-Star will do, thank you.  

So tonight I am going to sneak to the Ford place by having someone else take me. I cannot stand to watch Myrtle panic when she sees the joyous expression on my face as I climb into the driver's seat of the newborn, still unnamed.  


I keep saying, "It's just a car, it's just a car..."

 

THE NEW DOG

Today I am going to tell you a story about one of my very best friends and her new dog.  Ginny lost her dog back in the winter and this week decided it was time to find a new pal for herself, so off to the Humane Society she went.  It probably took her all of five minutes to find Petey, a cute little five-year-old mix of pug and something else, who was just sitting there waiting to go home with her.

There are some things you should know about Ginny.  First, she is the most generous, kind, grounded, spiritual woman I know.  We met over the Internet because of an interest in music, and sight unseen, she welcomed me into her home, and I have been going back ever since.  And she's been coming here.  

Anyway, Ginny paid for Petey and they headed home.  I received the sweetest e-mail about his car-riding abilities, the way he sat right in the passenger seat.  I received photos of her new baby, and we ooohhhed and ahhhhed over each of his preset accomplishments.  He is, after all five years old, so he came with an entire pre-wired hard drive.

As the first night wore on and Ginny and Petey became better-acquainted, he began to show the sides of himself that were already loaded.  But Ginny always sees the best in everyone, including Petey, and she sang his praises even during the writing of the following e-mail I received from her later last night:  "Petey is so wonderful!  He is crate trained!  And he's potty trained!  He just loves to play with his toys, unless you try to take one away from him.  LOL.  He bit me on the nose.  LOL.  Did you know that your nose will bleed more than a cut finger??  But it was my fault for trying to play with him."

Now, Ginny really already loves Petey, and I would be in love with him already, too, but the second I ended up needing plastic surgery due to his tendencies to defend his stuffed toy to the death, I would be crating him up and returning him for a different model.  Not Ginny, though.  She will keep him and adjust herself to him by simply not playing with him by trying to take the toy back and throw it again.  That's my Ginny.  Compassionate and loving and apparently with a good enough insurance policy that a little plastic surgery a few times a year will be worth it to have Petey happy in her home.  


She really is glad I don't bite, though.  But if I did, she would just pat my head and let me know that it is not my fault...I just love visiting Ginny!


Here's a toast to her and Petey.  To a long, happy, bloody relationship!  CHEERS!

LOUISVILLE

Last weekend Don and I were treated to a trip to Louisville, Kentucky, by his company, Jasper Engines and Transmissions.  They very generously provide a trip for their anniversary employees, and in the past we have traveled to Branson, Missouri, where we saw shows and scenery and just had a great time.  One year they loaded us on buses and we went to Chicago.  We were wined and dined for three days and treated to the theater one evening where we saw "Wicked" which was just unforgettable.  This year is Don's fortieth year with Jasper Engines. I am very proud of him for hitting this milestone, and the trip this year was to Louisville.  This three-day weekend far exceeded my expectations. Our hosts, Joyce and John, were great at their jobs, and each time we boarded the bus that weekend there were gifts in our seats.  We seriously did not expect gifts as before we boarded the bus in Jasper, the Big Boss Doug Bawel, was there to present us with beautiful small soft-sided coolers full of gifts already, and straw hats.  If you think I did not wear mine, you would be wrong.  It has been a hundred degrees in the shade here now for weeks, my brain is already pretty fried, and I was taking no chances.  Besides, it's cute and really went well with my denim capris and red, white, and blue button down shirt, and bangle bracelets.  Oh, and I just could not leave out my Skeecher's rocker-bottom sandals (on sale for $24.99 at Shoe Show, and they kick ass, if I must say so myself). Okay, back to the trip.

On Friday, while everyone else was working, about fifty of us were loaded onto a brand new luxury bus, and were on our way, with Joyce and John hosting and keeping us laughing, to our first stop which was a tour of a new Jasper Engines branch which was, believe me I am as surprised as you are by this, really enjoyable.

After complementary snacks there, back on the bus we climbed. Don and I always like to sit in the second row of seats so we can see out the big front window. It makes us feel very powerful.  Our next stop was in Jeffersonville, Indiana, at Schimpff's Confectionary. This candy shop is famous and has been featured on The History Channel. Now that I know how close it is, you better believe I will be hitting that store once in awhile.  They did a red hot cinnamon-making demonstration that was very interesting.  Schimpff's is a family-owned business that made the original turtles candy, actually in the shape of turtles, not the lumpy imitations we find in the stores now.  Here, I'll let you read all about it:  http://www.schimpffs.com/ 

I guess it goes without saying that I left with a one-pound can of the red hots rock candy, 1/4 pound of dark chocolate-covered cashews and 1/4 pound of chocolate-covered pecans (Don's choice). At the above website, you can see photos of the store since I walked out of the house without a photo card in my camera and could honestly not find one anywhere we went and did not think the guy driving the 40-foot bus around through narrow city streets would be too amenable to stopping at Walgreen's for me. I did take a few pictures with Don's old Kodak EasyShare camera, which I had no idea how to operate, but none of them were very good.  

On these trips, they way over-feed us.  In the afternoon we stopped at a great little place called Magdalena's in Corydon, Indiana, where we had the best potato soup ever, served in bread bowls.  If I had not gotten so full, I could have eaten another bowl of that, but thankfully we were on a schedule and I ran out of time before making myself totally ill.  http://magdalenas.com/ 

When we arrived at our hotel, The Galt House, on the Ohio River in Louisville, we were ready for a little R&R in our suites. Here is The Galt House, and if you ever get a chance to stay there, I would highly recommend it:  http://www.galthouse.com/  If you visit this website, click on "photo gallery," and you'll see all the things I didn't take pictures of.  

They always keep us very busy on these excursions, and we no sooner arrived than a huge banner went up at the end of the hallway of Jasper Engines and Transmissions suites announcing, "HOSPITALITY ROOM."  Now, this is just a fancy way of saying that John and Joyce are in their room setting out a gigantic spread of alcohol and snacks, where everyone congregates and makes themselves drunk and at home.  They do a great job.


Once we were nice and "relaxed" we all retired to our own rooms for showers and a costume change so we could attend the banquet (yes, we were eating again) downstairs before walking the few blocks to the theater to see "Jersey Boys."  


At the banquet we were served some of the best food I have ever tasted, and at that point it was still tasting excellent.  By Sunday I would be starting to rebel against the dining experience, but how can you resist when you're with friends away from home where you can let your hair down?  


A man named John Wagner, an inspirational speaker from Kentucky, kept us wildly entertained before the meal, and he was right...a good, hard belly laugh just clears the way for a great time! Even looking at his picture on his website gets me to chuckling. 
http://www.wagnerseriouslyfunny.com/%28S%28y02evcaqxu4xqw453swvr555%29%29/index.aspx


And then here is what I was waiting for on Friday night...the production of "Jersey Boys" which was unbelievably awesome!  Anyone who gets a chance to see this should definitely attend.
http://www.jerseyboysinfo.com/broadway/ 


I was wearing a cream and gold and brown dress with the uneven hem at the bottom, low cut in the front, swirly, silky, pretty, and about ten gold bangle bracelets and, the shoes that go with everything and are easy to walk in, my rocker-bottom sandals.  The dress was sleeveless, and I had bought a cream-colored Pima shawl and Don said, "You aren't going to take that, are you?  It's a hundred degrees outside."  I told him I usually have found theaters to be rather cold, and by the end of the performance, Don and I were sharing my shawl, all curled up together as close as we could get, and we became the show, evidently, for about the row ahead and the row behind us.  Hey, when in adverse weather conditions, you do what you have to to survive, right?



Now, this was just FRIDAY. We dropped into our beds (after another visit to the Hospitality Room), knowing that Saturday morning we had to be back on the bus by 8:15 for our visit to Bardstown, Kentucky.  


So, this is where the fun really began at 10:00 Saturday morning.


Feeling a little sleepy, the bus riders were quiet, dozing, trying to wake up.  We had had a good breakfast at The Galt House. I insisted on finishing mine even though Don was pointing at his watch. "What are they going to do, leave us?" Of course not, but it was a little unsettling to be the last person onto the bus and feeling it pull quickly away from the curb before we even got into our seats.  


Anyway, this was our first stop:  Heaven Hill Distillery.  Yes we were at a bourbon-making operation.  I would put the link here, but you'll have to find it on your own if you want to look at the website because you have to be of a certain legal age to go to it. But here I DID manage to get Don to take a few photos. 


The first one is of me at Bourbon School.  And it was just what I said, a class on bourbon, and yes, we got to sample, and yes, it was 10 a.m., and yes it was fun.  I learned a lot there. For example, charring the insides of the barrels happened by accident. The guy who accidentally started the fire that charred his barrels was cheap and shipped his bourbon to New Orleans anyway, and after they got a swig of that, they began asking for his bourbon exclusively, and not to be outdone, all the other whiskey-makers started burning their barrels on purpose, and so that's how we ended up with that woody taste and the amber color.  It used to be just a clear moonshine, now it's a gorgeous liquid. And yes, I bought a bottle of single-barrel 10-year-old bourbon to bring home to take on my camping trips with me.  Who knew I would like bourbon over ice so much??

This was me at bourbon school.  

This was me AFTER bourbon school posing with the Barrel Family.  I'm the one in front of Dad.

We left on a big bus after this fantastic start to the day, and ate lunch...somewhere...it was good and everything, but I was sort of full of alcohol and a huge breakfast, so unfortunately, I didn't retain any info about the Bardstown lunch stop.  I was kind of surprised that this little Kentucky town had so much to offer.  Oh, one more thing I learned about the distillery was that the warehouses, and you see one behind me in the above photo, look filthy on the outside. But the truth is, that's a good thing.  When they put all those barrels of whiskey in the warehouses, a natural mold starts growing on the outside.  It is a harmless mold, and everything in Bardstown sports that crappy-looking color, but on the upside, when the wind is blowing just right, they get to smell that yummy smell of 27-year-old bourbon. Sweet and a good trade-off! I think it is called trujillo mold but could be wrong about that as I was hearing things that were not actually being said after class.


http://www.visitbardstown.com/  If you visit this website, "My Old Kentucky Home" will be playing, a really pretty rendition of it.  Bardstown is very old and supposedly haunted, and I plan on going back there and exploring that aspect sometime.  While there, we went to see a production of, what else?, "My Old Kentucky Home," about the life of Stephen C. Foster.  Beautiful costumes of the times, great voices singing the songs.  It was very interesting...but cold.  


And finally, on Saturday evening, we ended the long, interesting, fun-filled day with a four-course meal served aboard My Old Kentucky Dinner Train.  http://www.rjcorman.com/dinnertrain.html This was a treat, but again, the food...When I ordered chicken I expected a leg.  Imagine my surprise when they plopped down in front of me (third course) half a chicken on my plate. I took one look at it and said, "Well, Don, bon appetite...you want my chicken?"  It was good, but I just couldn't, you know?  


All the way back to the hotel I was saying, "I can't wait to crawl into bed."  But we got there, and that stupid banner called our names, and we spent half the night with our friends back down in The Hospitality Room, drinking beer. I don't know where we were putting it, but again, friends, atmosphere, the Ohio River outside your balcony.  


Sunday morning:  We had a little more time to get to the bus on Sunday.  A lot of people went to church, Don and I couldn't even drag out of bed until about nine o'clock, then we had a leisurely breakfast (yes, I was hungry), ran back to our room and prepared to leave The Galt House, where I could live just fine, thank you.


The Muhammad Ali Center staff had graciously agreed to open the doors for our group early that morning, and we enjoyed a self-guided tour through that place, which is gorgeous, and features a lot of artwork and get this, a shadow boxing ring.  By now you all know that I was the one person out of fifty who shadow boxed with Muhammad Ali, right?  I wanted to put on the gloves and take on my boyfriend in the ring, but he was chicken.


http://www.alicenter.org/Pages/default.aspx  


Last stop on this much-needed, much-enjoyed, and much-appreciated three-day weekend was for...come on, you can say it...LUNCH.  We stopped in Louisville at The Old Spaghetti Factory, and I have to admit I had the best pasta ever!  For dessert I had MY ice cream AND Don's ice cream, but not to be outdone, John managed to talk four people out of theirs.  The bowls were tiny, though, really.  No, really they were.  http://www.osf.com/


And then just like that, we were home where real life slapped us in the faces and the grass needed mowed.


I would like to thank Jasper Engines and Transmissions for sponsoring these trips.  They are always so much fun and so memorable.  And especially Joyce and John, who cannot possibly enjoy these things to their fullest as they are stocking, restocking the Hospitality Room, getting people back to THEIR own rooms after we have helped ourselves to the stocked and restocked supplies, and basically giving up their privacy for three days.  I hope they are well-compensated for that!  


I did not test the links above, so if none work, or some do and some do not, I imagine that is John's fault somehow and I will get his e-mail address for you.  :0)

IN THE PALM OF MY HAND

Everyday was a struggle.  I looked everywhere for peace.  It was not to be found.  I stood up several times from underneath the big old ash tree.  I had curled up there in the night with a quilt my mama had made me, a pillow off my bed to rest my head on, listening to the sounds of the water cascading across the rocks in the fountain in the back yard, and listening to the breeze rearranging branches and leaves overhead.  The angel under the tree seemed to comfort me, and I reached up and placed my hand on her concrete wing and slept, slept right there with that angel protecting me.

In the morning, though, nothing had changed other than the fact I had a horrific backache and my pink pajamas were soaked with the sweat brought on by the humidity.  There were mosquito bites, too.  I counted about fifteen of them before stopping.  I figured if I could stand up, there was probably still enough blood in my body to nourish me and those little blood-sucking pests, at least through one more day.

As I wearily made my way to my house, I leaned down and scooped up a handful of dirt and let it sift through my fingers.  Playing in dirt had always been a comfort to me, even in my older years, I could barely wait for the snow to melt so I could get out the shovels and trowels and rakes and flower seeds and play in the dirt.  I never wore gloves.  I wanted to feel the earth on my hands and under my fingernails.  That habit of not covering my hands, though, made for a few trips to the ER for stitches and tetanus shots because when you turn up the dirt, you inevitably are going to turn up glass that has no reason for being there.  I always wonder if it got deposited during a heavy snowstorm, and there are times in the winter when the sun will shine while the snow plummets from the sky and I swear I see diamonds hitting the earth.  Who knew that it could snow diamonds in the wintertime?  

I scooped up another handful of soft, hot earth and wondered if peace would ever find me or if I was destined to always be peaceless.  Just as I started to drop the last handful back to the ground and open the door to go inside, I felt something in my fingers, something hard.  I brushed the dirt away and found a tiny little blue plastic butterfly.  I spit on it, rubbed it clean, and turned the little jewel over and read a tiny inscription on the curve of the underside of the butterfly's perfect wing:  "Peace has found you."  

Pocketing the treasure from the dirt in my own back yard, I thought, "I looked everywhere for peace, and I just found it in the most unlikely place...in the palm of my own hand."