Cranky Crone News

It all started the day I woke with a pressure in my upper left arm.  What do I know about heart attacks?  Nothing.  But, I do watch television, and the left arm always seems to be involved.  So, after three hours of having my arm feel as though a blood pressure cuff was on it, pumped to an extreme degree that wouldn’t let go, I decided I’d ask my daughter to take me to the ER.  Daughter #3 took me; not knowing how long I’d be there, and the fact that night driving is out, I would need a ride home, when I was released.  If … I was released.

Dear Readers,

There are three things that you need to know about this BLOG.  It would not exist if I didn’t have Roger (my computer guru) “saving my bacon,” as he did this morning.  Thanks, Roger.

The second thing is that I am pleased to include a poem from my youngest grand, Lillian.  Her dad (I’m proud to say, my son-in-law) turned sixty on Monday.  This is her poem for him.

And, third.  My friend, teacher, and writing mentor, Denise, is personally hitting this sixty milestone.  She asked for thoughts about it; so I wrote to her.

And, I thought you might want to see some of Larry’s flowers.  It is August, so the yellows are showing.

A friend died this week.  Not a flesh and blood friend.  But, a restaurant that we’ve frequented for years and years.  I was driving south on Colorado Blvd. and saw that the gigantic American flag on its tall-tall pole with the truck on top was missing.  No cars in the parking lot was another clue.  And, seeing no cars around the La Quinta at the back of the space, another.

How do you know when you are having or have had a good time?  I’m not sure that I have fun often.  How do you really know?  I’ve been thinking about that for some time.  I’ve liked things.  I’ve enjoyed things.  I’ve laughed at things.  I’ve enjoyed being around peole.  But, is that having a good time?  Is that having fun?

I’m old, I know, and I know that our language changes.  Probably with every generation.  But, what has happened to “you’re welcome?”  What has happened to “of?,” and all of the other words we seem to be dropping, these days?  What vulgarities are deemed acceptable in our language, today?

I do not think that a turtle or a tortoise is a pet.  It seems to me that a pet is an animal that comes when called, and seems to have some recognition of living with someone.  Chere is very independent – as independent as an animal can be, living confined in a habitat.

The internet definition (not the best resource in the world) of thinking / thought is: the process of using one’s mind to consider or reason about something; using thought or rational judgment; intelligent.

 I’ve been thinking about what constitutes thought.  We humans think. (Well, some of us think; I’m not so sure about others.)  We can problem solve.  (Again, some of us … )  Problem solving is thinking.  Do “dumb” animals think?  And, why do we call them “dumb animals?”  I’m writing, today, to see if I can puzzle through what I consider thinking.  Nothing scientific, you understand.  Just my thoughts on what it is that constitutes thinking.

After thinking about what to write in the BLOG, this week, I discarded many topics.  Shall I write about our Nation’s Independence?  Shall I write about the assault that is happening to my country?  Is that too political?  And I promised – no politics.  As a character in one of my favorite Hallmark movies (Rip in Time) says, “When we fought for our independence, it was really just a theory – democracy; at the time, it seemed like a grand experiment — we didn’t know if we would survive . . . as a people . . . as a country.”

What does it take to move ten yards (or almost twelve ton) of rock from the driveway to the right places in the west side yard, the east side yard, and the back where Larry’s vegetable garden used to be?  Rock – first of all; machines, shovels, rakes, wheelbarrows, lots of cold water to drink, and workers with a strong work ethic and lots of muscles!

This has been a very interesting week.  It is hot.  Alexa says that today’s temperature is 99 – and, it’s only June.  Only mid-June, and it’s 99!

You know how it is when a friend calls and tells you something you really don’t want to hear?  Sometimes, this premonition washes over you, and you know the friend is going to say something sad.  I remember talking with a neighbor while having coffee, and “that” feeling washed over me.  She told me that her husband, a prominent pediatric physician, was an alcoholic.  She went on to describe situations she encountered as a result of his drunkenness.  I didn’t want to sit there and listen – but I did.  Clearly, she needed to talk.  It helped me, in future situations with other people, to just be quiet and listen.  And, if you knew me, just being quiet and listening is not, generally, my strong suit.