Musings from the Muse

Yes, I know this isn't Thursday. I was all set to write then, but at almost 5:00 I found out that Bruce Larson had offered me his tickets to the U of A basketball game at 6:30. Who am I to turn down anything free? Especially tickets to see the Wildcats. I have decided to stop calling them Cats because of my aversion to felines in general. Anyway, I called Benjamin and he said he would like to go but was watching the kiddos since Lovely Lesley had a meeting at 7. "No sweat," says I. "Danny has no life, he can babysit for you."

We got to the game in plenty of time and were even able to eat the fine dinner of cheese ravioli and meat balls that Babs had prepared. The Wildcats did not disappoint, slapping an 83-57 loss on the semi-decent New Mexico State Aggies. It looks like the Wildcats will have some depth for a change as the second string did better than the starters.

Since it was late when we got back and I do so need my beauty rest, I planned to write Friday night instead. I had forgotten that I agreed to let Bekah use my TV in the living room to watch whatever-the-heck teenage girls watch when she had friends over. Alas, I was banished to the bedroom, our bedroom, not even Pete's because Danny was in there getting as much use as possible since Pete comes home tomorrow.

Our bedroom is really Babs' bedroom. It's her TV and decor thanks to our wonderful children who completely redid the bedroom as a surprise for their mother a few years ago. They changed it from a cave (not even a man-cave) into something you would see in "Better Homes and Gardens." I do have a problem with it though. The making of the bed.

It has been our custom for the centuries we have been married for the last one up to make the bed. No sweat for me for many, many years as I usually arose before Babs. Not so much now. She beats me up every day. Pre-redecoration it was no problem. It was just a matter of straightening the ancient comforter that I usually slept on top of anyway. Post-beautification is an entirely different breed of cat altogether. She won't even let me LIE on the new comforter let alone sleep on it. Should anyone desire to watch TV there in the daytime, we have to spread a blanket or sheet so as not to muss the decor. There are also now 87 pillows to deal with.

Babs ALWAYS retires before I do so she has the un-making duty. Occasionally I may be passing through and give her a hand, but it's really her job. Now, I don't know if pillowmania is a woman thing or not, but I do know that she removes three decorative pillows and sleeps with SEVEN non decorative ones. She even keeps two hidden during the day time just in case the inspectors from Better Homes and Bedrooms should happen by. Actually, I hide them for her when I make the bed. I sleep with one, count'em, ONE old, flattened, comfy pillow. Viva la diferance I say. It's one of the many reasons I love her.

I'm not sure if many read my ramblings. I do enjoy reading the comments and figure if nothing else, these musings may serve as my memoirs.

Halloween even though it's Veterans Day

First I'll welcome Miss Charlotte Jaymes Howe into our grand clan. We got to go up and see her the day after she was born. It still surprises me how small newborns are. Well, maybe not Isaac. He was dethroned in less than a week from his lofty spot as the newest Howe but I doubt he minds. I figured out that the difference in weight between Charlotte and him was Franklin! How weird is that?

I tried very hard last week to write about growing up "poor." I started over three or four times then gave up and went to bed. It's hard because I'm not looking for sympathy but just trying to describe what it was like. I still haven't figured it out so I will put it off until next week.

Halloween in Atomic City was tons different from what our kids and grandkids know. It was fun but much simpler. First, there were a finite number of places to Trick or Treat. We went to every house, that's right, every house. That's how we knew we were done. It was before the commercial gurus got involved so there was no such thing as mini-candy bars or Buick-sized bags of Halloween candy. Fortunately it was also before sickos putting pins, razor blades, napalm or whatever in the candy.

Most people made their own treats to hand out. Popcorn balls, candy apples, cookies and even fudge were common. Candy bars were full-size and bigger than the normal size now. It wasn't all that expensive since they cost a nickel apiece. One guy would give each of us a dime. His name was Robly Hooper and was very fat so everyone called him Tiny. Mom said he was an "Old Batch" whatever that meant. I thought it was cool because a dime could buy even more candy.

Costumes, for us anyway, were much simpler too. I had absolutely no imagination then (and not much now) so I usually wound up putting on some of my dad's old clothes, smearing some coffee grounds on my face to simulate stubble, and voila, I was a hobo. Face paint consisted of whatever cosmetics my sister LeAnna would part with. I remember she drew a scar on my cheek once when I was a pirate. An old sheet with some eye holes would make me a ghost. I don't remember any vampires, witches yes, but no pasty-faced ghouls. And we went by OURSELVES! No parents, maybe an older sibling, but usually just a bunch of kids. It was great fun.

Veterans Day.

Today, right now, this very minute, you breathe free air because ordinary men and women made, and make, extraordinary sacrifices that you may do so.

Please thank them...