Tempus fugit – and I’ve been busy

Let's keep it flying - Solvent

I’ve dropped the ball here – and on that subject:

While watching all the folderol around the “dropping of the ball” on New Year’s Eve, I felt a great weight of dismay. All I could think was how hollow we are. Does it take billions of dollars to basically move from 11:59:59 to 12:00:00 as the twelfth month turns into the first?

I cringed when I thought of the millions of people who could be fed with that money. Or, how about reducing the National Debt some? Roads and bridges are collapsing, and like Nero, we fiddle. And people danced world-wide!

Some cities had local, fun-loving celebrations, like the Possum Drop in the town of Brasstown, NC. Plenty of local good family fun, music, and no need for the millions spent on trash removal or Secret Service, unless the President decided to attend.

Psst: here’s how to get there, but don’t tell anyone. Too many people and the National Security folks will have to get in the act. That will cost money, and you might be treated to a pat-down.

In fact, I’ve had such fun reading about Clay’s Corner, I’m cutting this off here and will do a piece about it on Striped Pot.

What is Striped Pot? It’s an ezine* published by several seasoned travel writers who “met” online through interactions on their assorted venues. They became friends and formed a co-op to assemble their respective experiences around the world. Some are adventurers; some cover the arts; others love to wallow in luxury; all want to spread the word. Come have a look, and tell your friends about Striped Pot!
*ezine – an online magazine, pronounced e-zeen, or a travelezine.

Back to work now…Happy New Year!

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Octogenarian? or OctoGram? – “Gram” to many

A quickie. I’ve been busy working the author-bit, hopping between Examiner, Design Media, HubPages, MobyWho, a few blogs, and keeping up with Facebook and Twitter.

For the past three nomadic years, Cor and I have had a wonderful time, but you know the old saying: “A rolling stone gathers no moss.” The only moss we’ve gathered is mold. One of the reasons we have moved back to Burlington is because that is where most of our old Champlain Marina friends are. However, since we’ve been back, stuck in a motel for assorted reasons, we really haven’t had much of a social life.

A couple of weeks ago, we moved into a senior living place called “The Pines” and have been barricaded since then by piled up boxes of “stuff”. We’ve seen a few people in the hallways and elevator, but just enough to say “Hi” and try to get their first name; forget last.

The Pines

Home at last.

But today? WooHoo! We’ve been invited by our friend Sy Simonds to join a group for Happy Hour, “a pause in the day’s occupation” to quote Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. Of course, Longfellow was referring to the children’s hour. But as it turns out, I am the child. Tomorrow, I turn 80, and at The Pines, I am the child.

Seems that Sy called Helen, the Happy Hour organizer, who then called me. In addition to the formal invitation, Helen filled me in on the customs: BYOB, a snack to share, ice if you use it, meet on the porch at 5:00. As the lightening bug said when he backed into the electric fan, “I’m delighted, no end.” (Sorry folks, old jokes tickle me.)

Now, this is what we have been waiting, yea, yearning for – a chance to just sit and shoot the bull with our contemporaries. The ranks are growing thinner.

I’ll keep my ears open and report any juicy tidbits I pick up. Of course, I won’t know who they are talking about and I certainly won’t remember them, but what the hey, it’s a PARTY!

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Senior Tiny Travel?

That’s the name of a new website under construction. It will feature just that, Tiny Travel. I’ve found Big Travel quite exhausting and difficult, but still can’t wait to “get out of town”.

We’re finding short trips intriguing. Suddenly, we have time to see what lies around us. For instance, today we left Burlington around 10:00, drove for less than an hour and discovered The Rock of Ages quarry in Graniteville, a bit south of Barre.

More to follow when I unload the camera…but it was a great day.

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Have been “out to lunch” lately…just about to move into one of those “Senior Living” places. Yes, the time has finally arrived for us to let someone else shovel the snow, plow the field, and repair the plumbing.

This, The Pines, is an intermediary step. The last stop before assisted living; that is unless we win the lottery and achieve our dream.

Our dream: two houseboats, one on Mallett’s Bay in Colchester, Vermont, and the other on Blackburn Bay in Osprey, Florida. Neither need be operational as far as moving is concerned. We’re content to sit, observe, and make comments, some nice and some nasty, about the passing show. We keep the nasty ones to ourselves.

We do love to eat well wherever we are. So, back to dreaming – and writing for other venues.

If you have a dream, please make a comment on it. I’d love to see where you’d like to be, now or in the future.

After all, if we can’t dream???

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Boycott BP? No way!

Tide's in at Keaton Beach, Nov. 2008; Cormorant drying wings; not possible when they are coated with oil. This is taken at the edge of the marsh, halfway down the eastern shore of the Big Bend.

Boycotting BP would only hurt the USA.

First, there is no way to know what oil you are putting in your car. Like maple syrup or milk in Vermont, oil goes into cooperatives and is then shipped to various outlets to be sold under the outlets’ brand names.

Second, you would be hurting the retailer who could well be your neighbor’s brother, your local grocer’s uncle or other town guy who is just trying to make an honest living for himself and his family.

Third, BP must be profitable to fund the escrow account the injured parties along the Gulf coast are counting on for financial help. I started to say “to make them whole.”  Nothing will make them whole. They are the victims of a tragedy; perhaps a little better off than the person whose house is disintegrated by a tornado. Mother Nature takes no blame; gives no relief.

This is a case of frustration at one’s inability to admonish or punish someone we feel has wronged us.


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Categories and threads

Hopefully, you the readers will ask questions and/or post comments to spark a discussion. The subjects at the start will be broad, such as ideas for the handicapped; or what is the minimum amount of calories I need to stay healthy; or what are the various kinds of retirement homes; what cities have the best local transportation for seniors without a car.

The list goes on and on. Rather than thread ad infinitum, the topics will be broken into parts for ease of following.

What do you do when your husband is always cold, and if the heat’s turned up, you’re stifling? Tell him to put on a sweater? But how is this accomplished without a tangle?

Comment please:

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In the owl’s eye –

Perched on an evergreen limb in the cool, clear air of the Green Mountains, this old owl will purport to know the wisdom that comes with age. To quote Billy Joel, “I may be right. I may be wrong,” but it’s the way things look from this tree overlooking Shelburne Bay and the Adirondacks.

And just to kick off some discussion, being in Vermont introduces one of the first observations. As age presses on, friends become increasingly important. Sure, you can travel, read, paint, do whatever, but the day you look through all those old class photos and realize there are only three of you left – well, that’s the day you appreciate everybody you knew and everything you experienced. Why? Because that’s who you are; the sum of all those parts.

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