Faulty memories

Uncovered the ugly truth of my childhood today. No, not Granddad, although he was a scary character. Not Grandmother's lavender hair. I am talking about those dining room drapes!

This is not the dining room of my memory. Geez! The curtains in this Christmas 1964 photo were sort of yellow-green and a euphemistic "ochre," with black brush strokes on textured off-white. The bamboo blinds above were faded orange-brown with an ever-present dust coating. The glass shelf above the curtains was a head-bump waiting to happen. What color were the walls? For sure the linoleum tile was the black-speckled crumb-concealer, as we had that for a long, long time!

Repressed memories on those self-help cassettes I listened to in the nineties were usually sexual and physical abuse. Melody Beattie and Gerald Jampolsky were healing bigger stuff than bad drapes. But I definitely repressed this aesthetic affront.

© 2013-2019 Nancy L. Ruder

Read it for yourself

So very nice to have an inquisitive and quiet little visitor in the office this Friday afternoon. This jumping spider was exploring the bulletin board behind my computer, checking out my Christmas cards, photos of grandchildren and friends, playing hide-and-seek in my bookmarks, and flashing its green eyes at me. After the bulletin board it moved on to travel the length of the red telephone cord, checked out the desk light, and traversed the top edge of the computer monitor. 

When it hopped down near my empty Solo cup we stared at each other.  "Wouldn't you prefer to be outside?, " I asked by spidey telepathy, and popped the plastic lid over the little guy. 

With the spider safely in the cup and the lid on top, we headed out. But, wait! There on the linoleum  in the next room was another exploring spider the same size. I let my tiny visitor out of the paper cup and the two of them ran off together.

If you are curious, check things out at your local library!

© 2013-2019 Nancy L. Ruder

Big black cauldron

There's a new employee noon hour book club starting up. Employees bring a potluck dish using a recipe from a book, fiction or nonfiction. Of course, they are literary lunching on their own time, just want to make that clear.

Thought about participating. I really did. It was a long day, though, and the only two books with recipes at my skill level were from the children's room.

I can throw a rock in a crockpot. Stone Soup remains a classic story of sharing even in this ugly time of the president we do not mention by name.

The first chapter book I ever read that had a recipe at the back was Ian Fleming's Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Since it is recorded on the library summer reading program log of 1966--which I still have, of course--I know when I read it. My mom wasn't supporting my desire to make Monsieur Bon-Bon's secret fudge, so I flopped on the living room carpet to read about the lost colony of Roanoke.

© 2013-2019 Nancy L. Ruder

Mountains of work, mountains off work

Lily Lake is mirror calm, surrounded by mountains, and looped by an easy, level trail of gravel and boardwalks. The obstacle of parking the car is past, the future is just this moment, and this moment. Shared with a six-year-old the mountains and the lake shrink in significance. Instead we listen to the swish of our steps on the gravel path. We watch brilliant blue dragonflies hover, circle away then back to the same spot along the lake shore. Ducks float, then tip heads under and bottoms up to eat. A water snake performs a hypnotic dance near the boardwalk. An unafraid chipmunk darts in and out between two boulders, capturing the imagination of a grandson. We are savoring small joys with a beginner's mind.

Home again, jiggity jig, back to the office, where mountains of work climb way past the timberline. Progress is at capital I ice age glacial speed, not the global meltdown pace. I must cultivate acceptance, but adding a cool reflecting lake to my meditation visualization couldn't hurt.

One of my favorite mindfulness meditations is "The Mountain," used by Jon Kabat-Zinn. The visual aspect seems to help me stay focused. In this guided meditation we sit as the solid base of stone mountain as the sun, clouds, and stars pass over, and the seasons change on our slopes.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder

Where in the world is Carmen Monoxide?

Waiting around for the electrician to install a carbon monoxide detector in the vicinity of the apartment fireplace today I had an attack of retro-PBS. It was scary with audio  hallucinations, but not as bad as Barney flashbacks.

Carmen Sandiego, a mysterious woman with a large hat, was a big fave with my elementary school sons. She outdid Waldo for disappearing in a crowd. She was parent-allowed television viewing before childhood was taken over by screen and apps. And she had a catchy theme song.

The new carbon monoxide detector was installed on the ceiling between the fireplace and ceiling fan. Since I had to clear off the mantle and all around the fireplace it may be time for a big cathartic room rearrangement and throw-away festival. Wish I had the right hat.

© 2013-2018 Nancy L. Ruder

Bathroom ants refuse to Brexit

Ants are eusocial insects of the family Formicidae, tiny socialist insects belonging to the European Union and colonizing my bathroom just as they do early every spring. You can set your calendar by their arrival, and pretty much nothing will hasten their departure, not TSA-Pre, and not those nice young men in their clean white coats.

We admitted we were powerless over hormigas and our lives had become unmanageable. Every March my big powerful rent-paying, lease-signing sanity is brought to its knees by these tiny black ants in the bathroom.  They show up first as a reminder of flashbacks warnings from Seventies high school health teachers. "We aren't really here. Nanny nanny boo boo!" Little spots before my eyes.

Getting home after six, the ants have become proud, brave, and bold. They are marching around in the white porcelain parade grounds of tub and sink. Their homemade banners proclaim they are not figments or flashbacks, and are not covered by vision insurance.

I press my fists to my closed eyelids. Inside the optical theater the ants appear vibrating orange against blue, then energized lilac against white. Rothko meets Orkin. The ants are colluding. I can't delete them.  They have Twitter and facebook accounts, and I am their hostage.

Apartment management sent The Pest Guy. He told me it would get a lot worse before it gets better. The ants circled his bait like frat pledges at a kegger. Indeed, it began to look like ant Woodstock as more and more arrived to partake of the electric Kool-aid, and wander around in circles before (according to the pest guy) taking the bait back to share at their hormiga commune.

The library has two new rock concert DVDs--"The Doors Live at the Bowl '68," and the "Monterey Pop Festival." It wouldn't be much trouble to show videos for the tiny ants in the bathroom, and the project might keep me from smashing them with my guitar or lighting them on fire. I could just turn out the lights and shut the door. Maybe tomorrow morning it will just have been a one of those health class flashbacks.

When the music's over

Turn out the lights

Turn out the lights

Turn out the lights, yeah

And thanks so much to Farmer Derek for his satellite image of cows saying, "hi."

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Goodbye to a pineapple

Christmas 2017

The Pineapple is dead. Long live The Pineapple.

Today we salute a Pineapple plant of humble origin that aspired to total apartment domination. Banished to the balcony, it turned disgustingly gooey following prolonged freezing temps.

Will there be a BBC mini-series?

As recently as New Years Day The Pineapple ruled the balcony and commanded a view of the swimming pool, belying its status as an exile from the living room. When The Pineapple was welcomed inside for protection during a Halloween cold snap, offenses were noted. The plant tried taking over the whole living room and was revealed to host unwelcome insects.

Pride and the fall : a special report

In happier times The Pineapple had served in the capacity of Christmas tree in the apartment. Tensions began sometime after a Calloways garden store cashier hinted that the plant had never borne fruit due to under-fertilization on the part of the actual apartment tenant in late November of this year. The tenant flatly denied the accusation.

Halloween 2017

Cashier recants insinuation of negligence.

Christmas 2016

During it final year The Pineapple became increasingly unstable, and required stakes and bungee cords to remain upright even while continuing to grow. Media depicted The Pineapple through rose-colored glasses, but those close told of a prickly disposition.

World leaders remember The Pineapple

Early December 2016

Modeling career

In adolescence The Pineapple traveled to the office, flirted with daffodils, waved to fans from the apartment front door, and scandalously cohabitated with hen and chick. Spin changed this to a tale of sheltering underprivileged sedum.

Little Pineapple on the Windowsill

Beginnings in a coffee mug

Originally proud of its mission as a teaching example of kitchen scrap gardening, The Pineapple later strove to erase records of its humble beginnings and even botanical records of a decapitation-transplantation operation.

Summer 2015

Family ancestor

Tonight we celebrate the continuation of The Pineapple legacy. A new plant was found under the soggy, gooey leaves at the base of the legendary lion. This new plant sits tonight on the same window sill where its famous parent took root.

The Pineapple : The final podcast

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

No knees, no hips, no shoulders?

Major contraption.

The TSA-Pre screener asked the question fast, "No knees, no hips, no shoulders?"

Huh? I thought he said "sore knees, sore hips, sore shoulders," and answered "yes." How did he know I'd been sitting on the floor with my grandson playing Legos and Lite-Brite for two days?

"No, wait," I said as it dawned on me he was asking if I was titanium-free. He stared and slowly asked, "All   original   equipment?" like I might possibly be hearing impaired. Nodding and miming that I was creaky but manufacturer parts only, he waved me through the machine.

Our solar system and another solar system nearby. Pluto is far left.

Remember when Barbie was unbendable and needed a metal stand? Nobody told us it was our future!

  

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

A leaf is to catch with a stick

First thing on a walk is to find a very useful stick. A stick is to imitate old relatives with canes. A stick is to poke and scratch the sand. A stick is useful for pointing grown-ups where to look. It is very good for fling-flanging about in the air.

A leaf passing by in time is for catching with a stick. A pinecone is difficult to catch. A stick is for emphasis when telling Daddy to find a rock to throw in the lake. A lake, of course, is for throwing rocks into.

Picnicked on my lunch break watching a little boy and two grown-ups select sticks for hiking and for retrieving tennis balls from the creek. The perfect stick was elusive. "Look, Dad! I upgraded my stick!" Easy to download and install.

With thanks to Antoinette Portis, Ruth Krauss, and Maurice Sendak.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Black and white challenge OR Ghost vs. Fairies

Blog author of  NOT IN A STRAIGHT LINE, Photolera Claudinha, challenged me to post black and white photos on Facebook and tag friends to do the same. I can't quite get that together, but I've enjoyed the reminder to try some black and white shots. Halloween seems like a good time to compare black/white images with color.

Having just startled three deer on the trail as I went up the hill, it was nice to stop and snap the sparkling webs in the ten a.m. sunlight and catch my breath. The black and white photo emphasizes the underlying geometry of the spider's web, while the color one showcases the light coming from behind the web through the stems and grasses.

Flying off to haunt the neighborhood.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Can I book my kid's birthday party?

Like many Americans opening their laptop, or quaintly, their newspaper, this week you may have wondered about the pictured field trip to an interactive kid-friendly museum.  Can you book this glowing orb place for a birthday party? You had the Critter Lady for last year's birthday party, and the bouncy house the year before that. Kroger could make a glowing global sheet cake, easy. Maybe the museum hosts overnight lock-in slumber parties for preteen scouts and church groups.

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

OJ with Fritzi

Smile

On special Sunday mornings we would beg our mom, Fritzi, to use her "roly poly" glasses for our orange juice. I have the few surviving roly polies in my cupboard, and they still put a smile on my face, with or without vitamin C.

Roly poly on the counter

A Thursday car chase news flash involving a possibly stolen orange juice-colored Chevrolet naturally reminded me of the OJ Bronco chase.

OJ

In other orange juice smile news, I'll be breakfasting at Frontier Restaurant across from the UNM campus later this summer. The Frontier squeezes the best orange juice on the planet. I will lift my glass to toast Fritzi and smile.


© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Orange library bizarre

Glanced at the Harper's Bazaar issue on the cart of recent periodicals every time I walked up the stairs and thought (in a sherbet-colored bubble) "Orange Julius." Every trip down the stairs my glance registered as "peeling carrots." Being "old enough to peel the carrots for supper" was a developmental milestone out there on the prairie. It was a primitive time, indeed, and few remember when carrots were a root vegetable that did not come in a ready-to munch-bag.

As the last kid on earth to taste an Orange Julius at the Westroads Mall in big city Omaha, I was mortified to be so terribly delayed in popular culture. Now hopelessly estranged from popular culture, and happily, it took me many flights of stairs to notice the name of the model on the Harper's Bazaar cover -- Kendall Jenner. That added another layer of orange and confusion to my glances! No consumption of carrots will improve my vision enough to comprehend the Jenner-Kardashian phenomenon. And that's a good thing!

Sometimes pausing at the top of the stairs I have an odd flashback to watching a Houston Astros game on tv in an Irish tavern on Dodge Street in Omaha. The Astros were wearing their orange Jello parfait uniforms. I was in love with my husband. We were young, poor, and enjoying life.



© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Magic words and Amazon incantation.

Amazon Prime is terrific except when it doesn't work. Then one has the challenge of searching for the magic lamp and tackling amazing feats to get consumer relief. 

You can take your tracking number and 

Oh, PLEASE, no, don't do that!  Use your magic words instead.

THANK YOU for the help of the UPS web site. A genie named Orlando actually responded with useful information.

ABRACADABRA!

Use your magic words to open sesame the help folks at Amazon. If your order does not arrive, or shows "delivered" when is didn't/wasn't be sure to bibbity bobbity this boo:

http://www.amazon.com/contact-us

© 2013-2017 Nancy L. Ruder

Let the games begin

Lunching with friends before their holiday travels we discussed family game traditions. Board games have gotten folks through excessive holiday togetherness, blizzard snow days, August power outages, tornado warnings, Presidential elections, and family feuds, King Arthur devised the round table so his knights could play Yahtzee. It's way too difficult to play Twister in full armor.

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Ptah and the Four Nums

Princess Peony, my granddaughter, created the universe through the thought of her heart and the utterance of "Ptah." She is totally in the toddler moment, and her special utterance happens to be the name of an ancient Egyptian god, one of those tightly wrapped dudes I vaguely recall from Peter Worth's art history class at UNL. You don't need a lot of words if you use one word with wisdom and generosity. I wanted to know what "Ptah" meant in toddler-speak. 


"Ptah" is a useful expression conferring multiple meanings by way of different tones, volumes, and punctuation. It's like "Dude," but without any negative connotations.

From Wikipedia:  

Ptah (ptä), in Egyptian religion, great god of Memphis. He was one of the important gods of ancient Egypt and, according to Memphite theology, created the universe through the thought of his heart and the utterance of his tongue. As master craftsman, he was a patron of metalworkers and artisans. The Greeks identified him with Hephaestus.

Pronunciation alternatives:

• ptah   
• ptah
• ptah

Anecdotal usage:

Received a "Num num num NUM" approval score.

1. Peony recognizes a favorite object, points, and says, "Ptah!"
2. Peony offers a favorite object to Grancy saying, "Ptah."
3. Grancy gives it back, and Peony says,  "Ptah."
4. Peony sees a favorite food on her highchair tray and excitedly demands a boost into her seat with, "Ptah!"
5. Peony wants a favorite food or toy delivered quickly...
6. She wants visitors to know she is favorably impressed with their presence in her realm,,,
7. Daddy gets home..."PTAH!!"

Conclusion:

Princess Peony utters "Ptah" to express pleasure, approval, significance, interpersonal connection, appreciation, the offering of a gift, wonder, the making of a request, recognition, adoration, and acknowledgment of existence in the present. Her "ptah" is pretty much the toddler equivalent of Ram Dass's BE HERE NOW.





© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder

Forty stories

 "Vertiginous" is the word Lonely Planet uses for the 654 steps down to the Grotta di Nettuno. The cave at the bottom is totally worth the descent, as are the views during the many rest breaks on the trip back up. I want to thank my heart, lungs, and legs for joining me on this experience. I especially want to thank the dear friends who lagged behind keeping watch in case they had to drag me part of the way!

  

A little dog barked from the boat.

Definitely Whoville.

Nearing the grotto entrance

Rainbow rock at the gathering point for tour.

 
Cave photos are challenging with low light and spatial ambiguities. These are the "keepers" of my batch. The shot of Aladdin did not turn out!

© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder