When One Equals Five Hundred and Seventy-Four

Thought for the day:  A Healthy attitude is contagious, but don't wait to catch it from somebody else. Be a carrier.

image: morguefile

One of the nice things about smiling is... it's free. It doesn't cost a single cent to have a positive attitude, and for the most part, it really is contagious. Try being extra nice to the cashier and bagger at the grocery story, and see how much it's appreciated. Smile and say something nice to the people you meet while waiting in some infernal line, and see how quickly they respond. I think most people would genuinely like to feel connected to other people, but for whatever reason, they hold back. No reason you have to. Go ahead and try to build a bridge, no matter how small it is. What do you have to lose?

So, what's that have to do with the title of this post? Not a darned thing.

What the title's referring to is that this, my 574th post, is actually a lazy-assed re-run of my very first one, originally published on February 25, 2011. Since the IWSG posts will be coming out on Tuesday instead of Wednesday next week, whatever I post today will only be (ahem) new for a few days, so rather than spend all day writing a new post that's doomed to die an early death out of the kindness of my heart, I'm gonna re-share this oldie, but not so goodie.

Remember how scary it was when you dipped your toes into the Blogosphere for the first time? How would anyone find you...? Would anyone ever leave a comment...? Well, the following post marks my first tentative dip, and I've gotta say, it's been a pleasure splashing around with you guys. Special thanks to those of you who've shared much of the journey with me, and a warm welcome to those who are just starting to swim in my humble, rather eclectic, pool. I truly cherish our connections.

******************************************
Thought for the day: Inside of every old person is a young person wondering what happened.

Yay, me. Finally got the gumption to jump into the blogosphere, proving that it IS possible to teach an old dog new tricks. Guess I'll be typing to myself for quite a while, but I sure am looking forward to that glorious sun-drenched day when something other than a sad little goose egg shows up under comments.

In the meantime, I'll entertain myself until you guys join the party.

My name is Susan, and I'm an amateur radio operator. Sounds like a greeting at one of those "addictions anonymous" kinda meetings, doesn't it? Funny you should mention it, because the wife of a ham I know claims that ham radio isn't a hobby...  it's a disease. Addiction, disease. You say tomato, I say to-mah-to.

Okay, so I admit it. Many a ham radio operator has deserted his warm bed in the middle of the night to tiptoe into his shack and fire up the radio. After all, how can he possibly sleep when there might be a pipeline opening to Mongolia, or to some other remote part of the world? And, yeah, a ham might miss a party or wedding every now and then. But only if it conflicts with a worldwide contest, hamfest, or with that once-a-year all-important field day. (He usually makes it to his OWN wedding.)

Writing is the same way. Countless writers crawl out of bed in the wee hours of the morning, because that's when their inconsiderate muses decide to tap them on the shoulder. The words start rolling around in their heads, the voices start talking, and they have no choice but to grab a pad or fire up the computer. It's a passion, and a compulsion. Writers don't always write because they want to write; they write because they HAVE to write. There's simply no peace to be found until they put form to the words churning in their heads.

But it's all good, because it's all about passion, and passion, my friends, keeps the giddyap in our steps.

How about you? What lights a fire in your furnace? Whatever it is, I sincerely hope your significant other shares that passion with you, because that elevates the enjoyment to a whole 'nother level.

And by the way, if you're interested in learning more about amateur radio, check out http://www.arrl.org/  It doesn't matter how old you are, where you live, or what you do in life. Amateur radio is FUN, and offers many opportunities to serve your communities.

No trees were killed in the sending of this message. However, a large number of electrons were terribly inconvenienced.

***********************

Believe it or not, that first sorry post actually garnered a couple of comments. Surprised the heck out of me! Just like you guys do with every one of your funny, entertaining, intelligent posts.

                           Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Inspired by Happiness

Thought for the day:  When I was five years old, my mother always told me that happiness was the key to life. When I went to school, they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I wrote down "happy." They told me I didn't understand the assignment, and I told them they didn't understand life.  [John Lennon}

[wikipedia]

John Lennon certainly couldn't have said the former King of Bhutan didn't understand life. That's the king's quote about Gross National Happiness there to the left. Pretty astounding, isn't it? And in that beautiful Himalayan country, the last Buddhist kingdom in the world, happiness is still the measure of success. Dontcha love it?

I first heard about Bhutan's
 happiness quotient from some amateur radio friends who visited there on a DX-pedition, and then gave numerous presentations about their experiences when they returned to the States. I found the attitude about happiness to be inspirational when they first told us about it, and I still do. How deliciously ironic, then, that a Bhutanese blogger recently gave ME a blogging award... for being inspirational. (He obviously missed some of my posts... HA!) Allow me to introduce you to this fine, obviously discerning (HA!) young man.  Dumcho is a thoughtful, intelligent... and I dare say, happy... physics teacher, and I'll bet he'd love it if y'all would visit his blog and say hello. Again, thank you, Dumcho. I really do appreciate it.

I only have to fulfill a few requirements. Show the award to y'all. (Check!) Notify the person who gave it to me. (Check!) Tell you guys seven things about myself. (Wilco, in just a sec.) And finally, nominate, link, and notify fifteen other bloggers.

Um, I'm gonna stray from the last requirement. I already know how an awful lot of you feel about blogging awards, so I won't put any of you in the position of refusing yet another one. Besides, how in the world could I possibly limit the very inspiring description to only fifteen of you? Impossible! In your own way, each of you inspire me. So let's do it this way. If you're willing to accept this award, and wanta do a post about it, go for it! If you'd rather not, I understand, but waaaait a second: you don't get off that easily. How about telling me at least one new thing about yourself in the comments? Please? (It'd make me happy...)

                                        Almost as happy as this awesomely  happy Bhutan video

Okay, stop tapping your toes now. It's time to learn seven fun facts about me. Ready?

[morguefile]

1.  The poor widdle wasp was helplessly trapped in a mud puddle, alive, but just barely; and his movements, feeble and ineffective. So I did what seemed like a great idea to my 8-year-old mind. Scooped him out of the water, cradled him in the palm of my hand, and gently blew on him to dry his fragile wings. Worked, too. Before he flew away, I'd like to say he thanked me somehow. I'd like to say he did an intricate little butt-wiggling wasp dance just for me, but he actually did exactly what wasps are wont to do. The little ingrate stung me. It didn't make me regret helping him, but it did teach me a valuable lesson: Do whatever good you can in life, but be prepared to receive the occasional sting.

[morguefile]

2. A friend and I broke my parents' bed by jumping on it. She (the chicken!) headed for the back door, and I headed to the basement to find some nails. The monsters I hammered into that bed frame were four inches long or better, and I used a mess of them, too. Fixed that bed but good. At least, that's what I thought. In the middle of the night, a loud KABOOM came from my parents' bedroom. When the cursing started, I didn't exactly wet myself, but I did lay in my bed with eyes wide and heart pounding, saying my we-who-are-to-die prayers. But ...  nothing happened. Even when they discovered those ridiculously over-sized nails, they never ever suspected me. Years later, I finally told them the truth. I was married, had a kid, and figured the statute of limitations should have me in the clear by then. Besides, I was moving seven hundred miles away the next day.

3. For our high school drama class, two friends and I performed You Gotta Get a Gimmick. Once. When we told our teacher what we were planning, he asked us to do our routine for him after school. So our one and only audience was Mr. Adams and a small handful of fellow students. We got an enthusiastic response, but our teacher decided it wasn't appropriate for us to do. Too bad. We were reeeeeally funny. Not familiar with this song? It's from the Broadway musical Gypsy. (I was the gal who "did it with a switch.")

Youtube videos are being difficult, so here's another link:  You Gotta Have a Gimmick...

4. The first time I flew in an airplane was a flight all the way from Baltimore to Chicago to Honolulu. After we left Chicago, the plane got caught in such horrific turbulence, it felt like we were on an airborne roller coaster ride or free-falling elevator. How bad was it? Even one of the stewardesses was barfing. Me? I kept crocheting. Because I had no point of reference, I didn't realize the flight was so awful. Besides, Smarticus had been in Vietnam for nine months at that point, and we were meeting for R&R. Short of the plane falling apart, it was all good to me.

[morguefile]

5.. I used to be an avid bowler, and at one time, bowled on three leagues every week, two handicapped, and one scratch. Best game I ever rolled was a 261, but I blew the game by opening in the tenth frame. Only needed a mediocre score in the third game that night to break my first 600 series, but I didn't do it. Barely managed to break a hundred. That's me ...  Mrs. Consistent. One interesting lesson I gleaned from bowling, though. My average was always higher in the scratch league than it was in the handicapped ones. Perhaps it's human nature to rise to the level of one's competition? Or maybe if we expect more of ourselves, we're more likely to deliver.

6. For my fortieth birthday, a bunch of our fabulous friends pooled their money to treat me to a glamour make-over with Liz Claibourne. Yeah, I know, right? What awesome friends! Anyway, this make-over included a hair cut and style, massage, manicure, facial and make-up, the whole works. Even got a fancy schmancy lunch, complete with a flower and glass of wine. Talk about pampered! When the overhaul was complete, I barely recognized myself. The areas above my eyes and upper lip were blood red and sore as all get-out, thanks to the oh-so-delightful waxing Ms. Claibourne recommended. (Never, never, NEVER again!) Looked like the make-up had been smeared on with a trowel, but hey! It was different! The hairdo was a bit fussier than my usual  run-a-comb-through-it-and-go style, and it was as stiff and hard as a motorcycle helmet. But again, different. Before I left, the people who'd worked so hard on me all day wanted to know where I was going that night to show off my new look. To tell the truth, I'm not sure they believed me, but what can I say? It was bowling night.

[morguefile]

 7.  We went to the horse races once. It was at Timonium, Maryland, and the we was my husband, parents, mother-in-law, aunt, cousin, two sons, and me. Through sheer dumb luck, I won enough cash to cover food and drinks for all of us, with money to spare. I actually picked the first place horses for all three races in the trifecta, too, but didn't know enough to bet them all at once. I made each bet individually. Had I bet them all at the same time, I would've won a ton of money. Because I kept picking winners, my father bet my pick in one of the races. The horse came in dead last.



There ya have it. Not terribly inspiring, I'm afraid, but I hope you enjoyed them, nonetheless. Tell ya what. I'll even throw in a bonus fun fact. (shhhhh) Smarticus had to marry me, because he lost a game of pool with my father. True story. The deal was, the loser had to keep me. (Real flattering, right?)  I can only hope my dear husband, after running the table, intentionally blew his shot on the eight ball...

                                      Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

NOTE: The header picture, which comes from good ol' Morguefile, depicts some prayer flags found in Bhutan.

The fact that I can plant a seed and it becomes a flower, share a bit of knowledge and it becomes another's, smile at someone and receive a smile in return, are to me continual spiritual exercises. [Leo Buscaglia]

Try to be a rainbow in someone's cloud.  [Maya Angelou]

Learn from the mistakes of others. You can never live long enough to make them all yourself.  [Groucho Marx]

[morguefile]

Grandkids and Another Re-Run Hero

Thought for the day:  The laughter of a child is the light of a house.  [African proverb]

Armfuls of giggly sweetness: Persephone, Olivia, and Ella

We're baaaaaaack. We had a grand time in Florida with our son and his family, and ya know what? It really is true that happiness is grandchildren fighting (very sweetly, of course) over who gets to sit on your lap.

Here it is Thursday afternoon, and I finally caught up with all the comments from last week's post, but I didn't leave myself  much time to get a new post written and ready to go for tomorrow. Since so many of you commented about the amateur radio aspect of last week's post, I'm gonna do a re-run of another radio post. It was part of the A-Z challenge from 2012. I hope you enjoy it.

But first... for those of you who asked for them, a few more pictures of the grandchildren. (Since you twisted my arm...) If your eyes tend to glaze over at the prospect of looking at grandchildren pictures, scroll on down and check out the radio post. Go ahead. I won't be offended.

All five of our beautiful Florida girls. This was actually taken this past Easter, but I didn't think to herd them all together for a picture when we were down there this time around.

Ollie's favorite question: "Guess what?" (Usually followed by, "Chicken butt!" and gales of laughter.)

In case ya can't tell, our son and granddaughter Chloe were spelling WOW with their hands. (Me? I say, WOW! How the heck can we possibly have grandchildren this old?!?)

 Jordan and little brother Atlas, (AKA Bud) who was sick most of the time we were there, poor little guy. We all put in lots of rocker time with him, but he wasn't up to smiling for the camera.

Our clever daughter-in-law took this picture and added the caption. Ollie told me grandmas give LOTS of hugs and kisses, and I was more than happy to reinforce that concept. Unfortunately, the day before we left, she got sick, too.

An hour with your grandchildren can make you feel young again. Anything longer than that, you start to age quickly. [Gene Perret]

Um, no Smarticus isn't napping here. (ahem) He's just... resting his eyes. Yeah, that's it.

Do you know why children are so full of energy? Because they suck it all out of their grandparents.  [Gene Perret]

This turned out to be mostly about our granddaughters, didn't it?. Maybe next time, Atlas will be feeling up to snuff, and we'll catch up with Jacob and Joshua, too. (Yep, quite a crew...)

Okay, now let's take a gander at that old radio post. It's fairly short... Originally, it was called, A Single Signal.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thought for the day:  Like ripples from a stone tossed into a pond, the actions of a single person can sometimes change the world.

[THEME: Amateur radio]

Think KUWAIT.


Think of August 2, 1990. That's the day Iraq invaded Kuwait.

Iraqi tank on road to Kuwait. [Wikipedia]

Think of mayhem, terror, explosions. Telephone lines cut. Fear. No way for Kuwaitis outside of the country to know how the rest of their family and friends in Kuwait were doing. Were they alive, or were they dead? When would they know? How would they know? How would the world know what was going on?

[image from Abdul's QSL card]

Now, meet Abdul Jabar Marafie, amateur radio operator 9K2DZ. 

From the day of the invasion until the liberation of Kuwait nearly seven months later, Abdul, at great risk to both himself and his family, used his radio EVERY SINGLE DAY to send vital information to the outside world about what was going on in his country.

The invading Iraqis confiscated equipment from all Kuwaiti amateur radio operators, but Marafie was able to thwart their efforts by turning over some of his older equipment, while hiding other gear ... gear he could use to feed real-time information to the rest of the world. 

If you watched any news reports about Kuwait during that time and heard a reporter mention "an unknown source" of information, that reporter was talking about Marafie. Although he has received little recognition within his own country for his heroic acts, he received the American Radio Relay League (ARRL) Humanitarian Award in 1992, and is featured in an amazing documentary entitled, The Last Voice From Kuwait. (available on Youtube in three parts)

Oil fires, set by the retreating Iraqis. [Wikipedia]

Clockwise from top:
USAF planes flying over burning oil wells;
British troops;
View from Lockheed AC-130;
Highway of death;
M728 Combat Engineering Vehicle.

[Images courtesy of Wikipedia]









So, yes, think of Kuwait. And when you do, think of Abdul. A single amateur radio operator, who, with the help of a network of other amateur radio operators around the world, made a difference. A real difference.

~~~~~~
Oh yeah. I almost forgot. Time's running short for you to enter this month's contest on author Carol Kilgore's blog. You can win free stuff there every month, but this month? It's an autographed copy of my novel Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade PLUS a copy of a very cool poetry book, Old Broads Waxing Poetic. Just click on the spiffy contest badge in her sidebar, and post your response to the prompt. Go ahead... it's easy! Ya can't win if you don't enter.


                                       Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Willie, our "grandpuppy"

Fishing for Fun and Hunting for Heroes

Thought for the day:  Good things come to those who bait.

[Morguefile]

You like to fish? There's nothing quite like being out there on the water just as the sun starts to show its sleepy face. If you've never experienced it, believe me, the under-eye bags are a small price to pay for the privilege of seeing those glorious early morning golden rays shimmer across the water.

[Morguefile]

Anyhow, NO, I'm not going fishing. It's been a lot of years since I had that particular pleasure, but maybe soon. One of the perks of being an old bag in the state of Georgia is we get a free lifetime fishing and hunting license. Cool, huh?

Nope, what we're going fishing for is... fun. With our grandchildren. Which means I'm not actually here at my computer. (Dontcha love Blogger's auto-post feature?) Just because I'm unplugged doesn't mean I'm gonna leave y'all high and dry, though. Nope, I'm gonna leave you with an oldie but goodie rerun. The following was originally posted on November 9, 2011 as Veteran Heroes Get it Done. I hope you enjoy it... along with a few updates.

~~~~~~~

Thought for the day:  As you get older it is harder to have heroes, but it is sort of necessary. [Ernest Hemingway]

me, at an Atlanta science museum

When you spoke to him on the air, he was JY1, and he had as much fun on amateur radio as anyone else you contacted. Off the air, the friendly Hussein was King Hussein of Jordan. (For a while, he and I even ran the same radio, a Drake TR-7. Pretty cool, huh?)

One of the fascinating aspects of amateur radio is you never know who may come back to you when you put out a call. Could be a king, sheik, politician, entertainer, singer, astronaut, or just a friendly "1938 model with a shiny top," which is how one contact described himself to me when I was operating W4WOW, the station at (now-closed) SciTrek Museum in Atlanta. Not to be a name-dropper, but ... okay, so I AM being a name-dropper ... but some names you may recognize from the amateur radio fraternity are Barry Goldwater, Walter Cronkite, Priscilla Presley, Joe Walsh, (of the Eagles), Ronnie Milsap, Chet Atkins, and Arthur Godfrey. {NOTE: In a 2014 update, actor Tim Allen just got HIS license, too.} Lots of royalty from all over the world. Lots of politicians, and lots of famous people. Since there's amateur radio gear on the International Space Station, as well as on other space crafts, most astronauts are hams, too. And they seem to get as much of a kick out of talking to us earth-bound operators as we get out of talking to them.

So, I've had the privilege of speaking to and meeting some really neat people, of hearing my echoing voice bouncing back at me from a satellite, and even shaking the president's hand. All because of amateur radio.

With Veteran's Day coming up in a couple days, I wanted to tell you about one of my favorite amateur radio experiences, the contacts I will never forget. This is the saga of a group of honest-to-goodness American heroes, who captured both my imagination and my heart. A bunch of geezers who knew how to get 'er done.

[LST 325, Normandy, 1944-Wikipedia- public domain]

In 1943, General Dwight Eisenhower said, No amphibious attack in history had approached this one in size. Along miles of coastline there were hundreds of vessels and small boats afloat and ant-like files of advancing troops ashore. 

Ike was specifically referring to a landing at Sicily, but he could just as easily have said the same about multiple other WWII amphibious landings. And in every one of those landings, the LST was a major player. An indispensable star. LST stands for Landing Ship, Tank, and those vessels were specifically designed to carry tanks, troops, and supplies directly onto enemy shores, a vital job no other vessel was capable of performing.

Fast forward to the late '90s. The non-profit organization USS LST Memorial, Inc., a 10,000-member strong group of LST veterans, wanted to acquire and restore a WWII LST as a museum for the American people. One major problem from the get-go? The United States didn't have any. The government  had already either given away, scrapped, or sold all of them to other countries. At that time, Taiwan had 23, Brazil had a couple, and some were in Mexico and the Philippines.

And as it turned out, some had also been transferred to Greece in 1964 under a Military Assistance Program. After serving as part of the Greek Navy for more than thirty years, the country had mothballed them in Crete several years earlier. Talk about serendipity. Greece was done with them. Ready to scrap 'em. So some of our heroes headed to Greece, negotiated, and picked out the LST with the strongest-looking hull. That proud old vessel, the former LST 325, laid down at the Philadelphia Navy yard and launched in 1942, commissioned in 1943, veteran of multiple campaigns in Europe, Africa, and the Middle East, decommissioned in '46, and transferred to Greece in '64, was once again in American hands.

But that was just the beginning.

In July of 2000, a group of mostly WWII veterans, average age 74, went to Crete to undertake the herculean task of getting that old craft seaworthy again. In blistering heat, in the face of countless obstacles, back-breaking work, and frequent stonewalling by the Justice Department, those guys surmounted the insurmountable, and accomplished what some said was impossible.

The Crew

From the time the crew arrived in Crete, an online log chronicled the hurdles they faced, and the mostly good humor with which they faced them. That log is still available, but if you want to read it in chronological order, start at the bottom of the page and work your way up. One entry says, This ain't no job for sissies. And it truly wasn't.

The 8th of August entry reads If you want to know what it is like to be a member of the crew here in Crete, it's very easy to describe, it's hot as Hell and work all the time. (No exaggeration. Temperatures were well over one hundred on deck. Below deck, it was even hotter.)

On the 10th of August- Many needed items missing or damaged beyond use. Since there's another inactive LST tied up alongside us, the usual solution is based on the idea God helps those who help themselves. 

In spite of all the obstacles, in spite of the age and serious illnesses of some of the crew members, LST 325, refurbished and retrofitted with $25,000 worth of satellite navigational equipment, modern communications, computer gear, and life rafts, embarked on a 6500-mile voyage back to the United States on the 14th of November. Private donations of $70,000, plus a 50,000-gallon donation of diesel fuel from BP Oil Company, made the rebuild, repair, and voyage home possible, but it was the hard work and perseverance of those veterans, that crew of senior citizen sailors, that got the job done. 

In case you hadn't already guessed it, amateur radio was part of  the communications aboard that LST, and  WW2LST operated almost every day during the nearly two-month trip across the ocean. The ham originally slated to operate was unable to sail due to illness, so another amateur radio operator among the crew was drafted to pull the duty. You could almost see the twinkle in his eye when Jack Carter apologized on the air to all the hams who were so eager to talk to him, when he said he wasn't used to working pile-ups. (That's when someone puts out a call, and it sounds like half the world's population responds at the same time.) But you know what? He did a terrific job. I had the honor of listening to his conversations many times, and of speaking to him several, and he was always a delight. 

LST 325 arrived in Mobile, Alabama, on January 10, 2001, and our heroes were greeted by cheering crowds. Many newspaper articles were written about them, and the History channel even produced a program about the escapades of this never-give-up group of stubborn, wonderful veterans.

Today, the vessel is moored at its permanent berth in Evansville, Indiana. True to the aspirations of those veterans, it is a museum ship now, available for all of us to see and honor. But most of all, I honor that dauntless group of veterans who made it happen.

[LST-325 in her Evansville home port- Wikipedia]

Amateur radio operators exchange what we call QSL cards to confirm various specifics of our contacts, like date, time, radio frequency, power used, mode, rig, antenna, signal report, and often a personal note, as well. Here is the QSL card confirming my contacts with LST 325. (The MM stands for maritime mobile.)

On the back of the card, in addition to the confirmation specifics, it reads, We are sad to report that Jack Carter became a Silent Key on February 20, 2001 shortly after returning on this voyage of a lifetime.

{NOTE: 2014 update- Although Evansville is still her home port, this floating museum travels to other ports in the country to give more people the opportunity to visit this one-of-a-kind WWII LST. She was in Chattanooga, TN last month.}

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

~~~~~~

Just a reminder. The lovely Carol Kilgore is still running month-long contests on her website, and this month's swag is an autographed copy of Hot Flashes and Cold Lemonade, as well as a copy of the sassy Old Broads Waxing Poetic. Just go to her blog and click on the spiffy contest badge in her sidebar. And not just this month... every month! It's fun... and it's FREE. What more do ya want?

A Leap into the Unknown

Thought for the day: Time is but a stream I go a-fishing in. I drink at it, but while I drink, I see the sandy bottom and detect how shallow it is. Its thin current slips away, but eternity remains. [Henry David Thoreau]

In honor of Einstein's birthday, participants in today's bloghop have a free round-trip ticket through a wormhole. To anyplace. Any time. All we had to do is figure out where (and when) we wanted to go. Into the past to observe, or perhaps alter history... somewhere into the future... or maybe somewhere... in between? Oh so many possibilities to consider.

What I came up with is probably gonna be a little different from most. And as for the 100 words, more or less, I picked more. (Sorry.)  First, a little background filler: this story takes place on the Georgia Tech campus, shortly before the monthly amateur radio testing session. Volunteer Examiners, such as my hubby Smarticus and I, administer and grade these tests so applicants can (hopefully) earn their FCC-issued amateur radio licenses. When the story opens, Smarticus and I have arrived early for the test session, and so far, are the only ones there. OK, get the picture? Here goes:

[Wikipedia]

"You can go on in if you'd like," Smarticus said. "I'm gonna stay out here until I finish this smoke."

Yeah, right. The way I figured, it'd be more like two or three smokes, so I gave him a peck on the cheek and a pat on the butt, and headed for the classroom by myself. As usual, the room felt like an airless sauna, so as soon as I got there, I cranked the super-duper-sized turbo-prop floor fan all the way up to what we liked to call the wind tunnel setting.

The fan roared to life, and created an instant gale force blast that whipped the cover up and away from a never-before-seen whatchamacallit (Please forgive the technical jargon.) sitting in the corner of the room. I, never one to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, immediately walked over to the behemoth to investigate.

The industrial gray contraption... rather generic-looking, if you asked me...  boasted knobs, buttons, and dials galore, and a metal plate that said, BEWARE: Wormhole Generator.  I, never one to fiddle with unknown knobs and dials, immediately  fingered the Cosmic Positioning System doohicky with one hand, while leafing through the latitude and longitude guidebook lying beside it with the other.

I took a quick peek at my watch. Oh good, I had at least five minutes. Plenty of time to change the world. Phooey on the Butterfly Theory. Nerts to worrying about a paradox. I was gonna go kill Hitler with my — my — never mind; I'd worry about that when I got there.

I punched my destination date, latitude and longitude into the CPS keyboard, took a deep breath, and then used both hands to pull the giant knife switch down. The air shimmered like a heat mirage, and then settled into place, forming what looked like the gaping undulating mouth of a dark tunnel. I, never one to venture half-cocked into any kind of adventure, immediately took a flying leap into it.

I'm so dizzy, my head is spinning...

Before my stomach had the opportunity to purge its contents, the spinning slowed, and came to a gradual stop. On wobbly legs, I emerged into a vaguely familiar room.

I looked around, noting the familiar arrangement of desks and computers, and the roar of the turbo-prop fan. A picture of Governor Max Cleland on the wall, next to another of President Hillary Clinton. And a calendar, telling me the year was 2013, and the day, the same as when I'd stepped into the tunnel. The generator that delivered me to this parallel universe was no longer there, but a different machine — a cute one —  stood in its place. It looked like a big red apple, detailed with an adorable smiley-faced worm emerging from a hole, and fanciful lettering that identified it as Einstein's Bridge to Everywhere. On the wall beside it hung a portrait... a portrait of me, identified as Susan Flett...  oh my God!... the bridge's inventor!? Oh, crap. Well, if I invented this thing, maybe I could figure out to get back home. To the right home, the place where I belonged...

"Anybody here to take the test yet?" Smarticus asked, as he entered the room.

I stared at him. Clearly, it was him. Same voice, same grin, same scent of cigarette smoke and sunshine emanating from him. But aside from an obvious upgrade in clothing, there was something else different about him, too. Something — intriguing. Time seemed to stand still as I continued to gawk.

"Um, no," I said, unsure of who we were to each other in this new reality. For all I knew, we could be nothing more than passing acquaintances.

"Tell you what, hot rod," he said, stroking my cheek, and making my toes tingle in the process. "After we get done here, let's stop at The Italian Stallion on the way home. I'll get you some chianti and something to eat that has all the garlic and mushrooms your little heart desires. With the grandkids all coming in tomorrow, you deserve some relaxation and a special treat today. Maybe a foot rub when we get home?"

I, never one to act without considering the consequences of my decisions, immediately smiled.  "Sounds good to me, babe. There's no place like home."

++++++

[source]

Isn't the idea of parallel universes intriguing?

Anyhow, thanks so much to the brains behind this bloghop, our delightful hosts Luanne, Laura, and Stephen. It's been fun. If you'd like to check out the other entries for this bloghop, just click on the badge in the sidebar, and it'll whisk you away...

Speaking of whisking away, if you aren't participating in this bloghop already, where would you want to go through that wormhole?

In honor of Einstein's birthday, I'm thinking instead of a birthday cake, we should all have ... pi. After all, tomorrow is 3-14, ya know. Make mine lemon meringue.

Woo-HOO! LATE BREAKING NEWS:  Carol Kilgore has completed her random drawing for the winner of a signed copy of her book In Name Only, and the lucky winner is (Insert drum roll here.) Keith, AKA the Optimistic Existentialist. Congratulations, Keith!

                                 Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.


Perhaps home is not a place, but an irrevocable condition.  [James Baldwin]

Allow Me to Introduce Myself

Thought for the day: Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, "What! You too? I thought I was the only one.  [C.S. Lewis]

Dontcha hate gatherings where you know so few people in the room, you have to stick a tag on your shirt that says, My name is...? 

Yeah, me too.

But this is different. This is an opportunity to learn a little something about other bloggers from the safety and comfort of your own home, and you don't have to wear a name tag, or sip a cup of icky-sweet punch or nibble on a handful of salted peanuts. Well, of course, you can do all those things if you want to, but it's totally optional. Enough babbling; let me toss a quick thank you to our hosts for coming up with this getting to know you kinda blogfest, and then get on with it. (Thanks, Stephen, Mark, Elise, and Carolyn!)

Speaking of which, how about listening to a little Getting to Know You music while you read the rest of this post? You know, to put you in the mood? It's SHORT... just like the rest of this post will be.

Okeydoke. My name is Susan, and I'm a creative nerd, guitar-playing, oil-painting amateur radio operator, information junkie, incredibly soft touch volunteer, and word addict with a warped sense of humor and predilection for bad puns. This blog started with the notion of establishing a platform for my writing aspirations, but it's become so much more than that. Like amateur radio, it's yet another window on the world, and another avenue to make friends. It's about community and connections. Bill Husted, a journalist and amateur radio operator, once wrote in his column, In the amateur radio fraternity, there are no strangers. That's very true. And more and more, that's how I feel about blogging, too.

It's very nice to meetcha. Care for some punch and peanuts?

                                  Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Cold Enough For Ya?

Thought for the day:  It's been so cold in Texas, my brother's rooster ran into KFC and begged to use the pressure cooker.

[seniorark]

Okay, so I lied. Parts of Texas have been bitterly cold this year, (right, Jon?) but not where my brother lives, so none of his chickens have actually made a suicide run to KFC.

So sue me. I thought it was funny.

I don't know where that incredible ice storm picture I found at seniorark was taken, but I do know it's someplace I don't wanta be. How about you? Has it been a cold winter where you live?  I know some of you guys reading this are in the middle of a miserable summer heat wave right now, but most of us are in the middle of winter. Not that you'd know it around here. It was 76 degrees a couple weekends ago, and our daffodils look like they're gonna bloom any day now.

Nonetheless, I trust that some of you are feeling the cold right now, are seeing snow outside your window, and are already daydreaming about springtime. So these are just for you...

[seniorark]

How cold is it? It's so cold...

• Hitchhikers are holding up pictures of a thumb.
• A recorded message at the  911 center says to call back in the spring.
• I saw a squirrel throwing himself at an electric fence.
• My friend chipped a tooth on her soup.
• The old lady across the street couldn't believe how badly her teeth were chattering last night. They were sitting in a glass at the time. 
• Starbucks started selling coffee on a stick.
• When farmers milk their cows, they get ice cream.
• If you can believe it, politicians have their hands in their OWN pockets.
• I saw a dog over on Main Street. The poor thing was frozen to the fire hydrant.
• We have one of those new rain showerheads. I love it, but the other day, when I turned it on, I got hail.
• My husband and I ate lunch at a greasy spoon yesterday... just for the heartburn.
• EVERYBODY has a stiff upper lip.

[Morguefile]

So, let's chat. Wanta know why  cold weather is on my mind today? 

I'll tell ya. Because of Julie Flanders' hot new book with a super cool title:  Polar Night. 

And that's not ALL!

[Morguefile]

I'm plunging in to help her cover make a big splash!

                                                                   

                                                                   Ready to see it? 

                                                           

                                                            It is absolutely gorgeous.

                                                                     

                                                                     Chillingly so...

                                         

                                      WOW, right? Wanta hear something about the book?

                                                    Take it awaaaaay, Julie:

Book Blurb: When Detective Danny Fitzpatrick leaves his hometown of Chicago and moves to Fairbanks, Alaska he wants nothing more than to escape the violence and heartbreak that left his life in pieces. Numbed by alcohol and the frozen temperatures of an Alaskan winter, Danny is content with a dead-end job investigating Fairbanks' cold cases. That all changes when a pretty blond woman goes missing on the winter solstice, and Danny stumbles upon some surprising connections between her disappearance and that of another Fairbanks woman three years earlier. Forced out of his lethargy, Danny sets out to both find the missing woman and solve his own cold case.

The investigation points Danny towards Aleksei Nechayev, the handsome and charming proprietor of an old asylum turned haunted tourist attraction in the Arctic town of Coldfoot. As he tries to find a link between Nechayev and his case, Danny's instinct tells him that Nechayev is much more than what he seems.

Danny has no idea that Nechayev is hiding a secret that is much more horrifying than anything he could ever have imagined. As his obsession with finding the missing women grows, Danny finds his own life in danger. And when the truth is finally revealed, the world as he knows it will never be the same.

Bio: Julie Flanders is a librarian and a freelance writer who has written for both online and print publications. She is an avid animal lover and shares her home in Cincinnati, Ohio with her dog and cat. Polar Night, a suspense thriller with a supernatural twist, is her first novel. It will be published by Ink Smith Publishing on February 7, 2013. Find Julie online at her blog, on Twitter, and on Facebook.

******

There ya go. February 7 is the date to remember. Best wishes to Julie for a red hot launch next month.

******

Okay, I'm on a roll with this whole talking about cold stuff, so I'm gonna share one more thing with you before wrapping it up. You know how the people in some cities pride themselves on being able to handle frigid temperatures better than people in other cities? There have been quite a few funny pieces written along this line about various American cities, and you may have seen some of them. One of the truly cool things about amateur radio is how it opens the door to enjoying friendships with people from all over the world. So, thanks to amateur radio, and specifically to a funny Finnish amateur radio operator, here's a fun piece about cold-weather fortitude... with a bit of an international flair. All temperatures are in degrees Centigrade.

• +15 --- Spanish wear caps, gloves, and winter coats; Finns are sunbathing.
• +10 --- French desperately try to get their central heating on; Finns plant flowers.
• + 5 --- Italian cars won't start; Finns drive convertibles.
•    0 --- Pure water freezes; water in River Vantaa thickens a bit.
• - 5 --- First people are found frozen in California; Finnish midsummer festival ends.
• -10 --- Scots turn the heat on in their houses; Finns start to wear long-sleeved shirts.
• -20 --- Swedes stay indoors; Finns are having last barbecue before winter.
• -30 --- Half of the Greek people have been frozen to death; Finns start to dry laundry indoors.
• -50 --- Polar bears evacuate North Pole; Finnish army starts its winter training.
• -70 --- Siberians are moving to Moscow; Finns are furious, because their Kiskenkorva liquor can't be stored outdoors anymore.
• -273 --- Absolute zero; Finns admit that it is quite cold outside.
• -300 --- Hell freezes over; Finland wins the World Cup.

So, there ya have it. Time for a cuppa hot tea, dontcha think? Or maybe ...  a little nap.

    [Morguefile]

                                    Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.

Salami in the Slammer

Thought for the day:  An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in; a pessimist stays up to make sure the old year leaves.  [Bill Vaughn]

Happy New Year, y'all. As Oprah Winfrey said, Cheers to a new year and another chance to get it right.

A fresh start. Don't you like the sound of that? Not that I was bored with the old year, mind you, but isn't it exciting to embark on a new one, and to anticipate what may lie ahead? May this be the year we all get it right.

In the new year, may your right hand be stretched out in friendship, but never in want.

So, did you go out dancing, and wining & dining to welcome the new year? Eat breakfast at a crummy restaurant on the way home?

Did you go to a party... or host one... where a guest demonstrated a skill he mastered in college?

Peach drop- Atlanta

Did you spend the evening shivering with a huge crowd of people... partying, singing, and waiting... and then counting down while some object descended to mark another year's demise?

Me, neither.











Oh, we've done a lot of those things over the years, and hosted some pretty terrific parties, too, but now, we generally go out for an early dinner, and then spend a relaxing evening at home by ourselves. (This year, better yet! We steamed crabs.) Like a couple of old farts, we grumble about some of the so-called music they play on the TV celebrations, and then as the bewitching hour approaches, my hubby pops a bottle of champagne. It may not be earth-shattering, but it suits us.

Of all the New Year's Eves Smarticus and I have spent together, one stands out above all the rest, because it was so unique. You see, it was the one and only time we spent the night at ... the local jailhouse.




HA! Didn't know I was such a bad girl, didja?

Remember the Y2K scare? Even though there was a mad scramble, and a ton of cash spent during the nineties to fix a computer glitch that could've crashed computer systems all over the world, a lot of uncertainty remained as January 1, 2000 approached. And not just about the computer glitch. Emergency management personnel had other concerns, as well.

Enter amateur radio. At the request of government officials, amateur radio operators set up stations in every police station, fire house, hospital, public utility, and numerous other places I can't recall right off hand... just in case.

My hubby and I set up at the police station just inside those doors and to the right. We maintained communications with the other emergency stations around our county and state. We checked in with other operators set up in similar situations in other states... and in other countries.

The police couldn't have been nicer. They had a great spread of food set up to celebrate the holiday, and told us to help ourselves. The mayor stopped by and chatted with us. We had a blast.

We stayed until about 4AM, because by then, everyone was fairly sure all was well. Still, it was pretty cool. And like I said, unique. I'm sure others have spent New Year's Eve in jail before... but with a slightly different connotation. (And they probably didn't get any cookies, either.)

                                 What's the strangest place YOU ever spent New Year's Eve?


Now is the time to make your regular annual good resolutions. Next week you can begin paving the road to hell with them as usual.  [Mark Twain]

By the way, I hope you all had a wonderful Christmas. We sure did. Here's a handful of pictures...

L to R: Aaron, Kymber, Devyn, and Jaiden

Nothing puts the magic into Christmas better than sharing it with family and friends... especially if children are involved. We had the pleasure of staying with our son and his family. Can you believe the kids actually posed for pictures before opening a single present?

Princess Kymber

The boys each got a Superman towel/robe thingie; Kymber got one of Ariel; and Devyn got Minnie Mouse. She isn't usually one to smile for a picture, but she reeeeeally loved her Minnie Mouse get-up.

With a little help from big brother Jaiden and a LOT of help from mom Tina, Kymber made a batch of itty bitty cupcakes in her new Easy Bake oven.

The three older kids got kid-friendly tablets from their other grandfather. I can't believe how quickly they picked those things up and started playing on them, as though it were intuitive. Aaron is only two years old, and he was navigating on that thing better than I was. ('Course, I realize that ain't saying much...)



Okay, enough. Christmas is over for another year, a whole new year stretches ahead of us, and... life is good.

Oh, by the way, for those of you who remember when the kids got rabbits last year, what can I say? All of a sudden, the little critters have been multiplying like... rabbits! Two babies were born a week before we got there, and four more were born two days before. After the first two were born, Tina took the older rabbits to the vet. All girls except for one very enthusiastic little guy, who got neutered. Too late! I'm telling ya, he was a really busy bunny! A couple days ago, seven more babies. Ah well, time to enlarge the habitat again...

                                Until next time, take care of yourselves. And each other.