Penny Sanford Porcelains

More From the Fourth

There was fresh corn today...fresh from the field...less than 15 minutes from stalk to pot. I cannot even begin to describe to you the difference in very, very fresh sweet corn and what most people in the world define as fresh corn on the cob.

This is so fresh that one cannot find very many ears in the corn field that are filled out yet.

But that does not matter. Those first bites of really sweet, sweet corn in the summer are...I'm sorry. Words just fail me.

You will be hearing more about this particular variety of sweet corn that has weak knees but is so worth the effort and risk in planting it. I've got to find the name of the variety in my notes. We'll talk more about corn, I promise.

We had brisket today. Very yummy.

We were prepared to eat watermelon today on the Fourth of July...watermelon chosen at Super Walmart in Grenada yesterday.

 We thumped and thumped to find the one watermelon that sounded the most ripe.

I was quite pleased that Unc, an 82 year old watermelon expert, approved our thump research results, and he taught me something new about choosing a watermelon.

The part of the watermelon that sits on the ground and leaves a pale patch that never sees the sun, had turned a pale butter yellow. Unc says if that patch on which the watermelon grows against the ground is white, then the watermelon is not at the peak of ripeness.

The fact that our growth patch had turned a pale buttery yellow was a good indication of sweetness.

Oh, and when you thump it, the best ripeness should have a sound in a lower register that resonates. A higher pitched thump that turns into more of a thud with no resonance is a watermelon not at its peak of ripeness .

I don't know if a watermelon will continue to ripen after it is cut from its vine or if its sweetness and ripeness is determined by how long it stays on the vine. I'll have to ask Unc about that.

These cute little jelly shoes at Walmart made me think they were decorated like watermelons. The little ventilation holes looked like little watermelon seed. I don't think the designers had watermelons in mind when they made the cute little shoes, but they made me wish they came in my size.

To finish up the Walmart story...I seem to always have some story related to Walmart, don't I? You think that speaks to an emotional problem? HA!

Watching people in Walmart would be a very interesting sociological experiment.

 Anyway, we did not finish our list this time. The reason?  I decided to fall off the porch of Grandma's house (the one that we will forever be renovating.)

It is quite simple, really. Gordon, at my request, spread a large rug out on the porch at Grandma's house so that the sun could purposely fade it. I decided the north east corner was not getting as much sun as the rest of the rug, so I climbed up on the porch to turn the rug around. (The rug story another time.)

We have not built the steps to the front porch for reasons that would take too long to explain. I was able to climb up on the porch, turn the rug, and as I was attempting to climb down to the ground, a towering two-and-a-half-feet, I slipped and fell and landed on my back.

Ouch!

I do have a question, though. When one falls, does one consider it a 2.5 foot fall from bottom of one's feet to the ground? Or should one consider it a 8 foot one inch fall (I'm 5'6" tall)?  My head and shoulders certainly fell the entire eight feet. 

Apparently I tried one of those ice skating mid-air turns (a single axle?) on my way down because I started face first and landed on my back on the hardened, packed earth driveway. *grin*

 Nothing broken. Knees, ankles, wrists, hips are a bit twisted and unhappy. I have been counting the bones in my feet and hand today. It is a very vivid way to learn anatomy! *grin*

Anyway, we went to Walmart in Grenada right after I fell yesterday, because I didn't tell Gordon at first...so I did not have the vim and vigor that I would normally have in Walmart.

We did not get to finish our shopping because Mother Hen Gordon decided I was too tired (and hurting too much) to shop anymore.

I was shopping for things to send our adopted soldier over in the Sandbox. He gets store brand items just like we buy for ourselves. I've not heard any complaints from him.

This is what we collected so far for this month, but this lot will be greatly supplemented with magazines and home made cookies and stuff decidedly more fun than hemorrhoid cream! We will divide this stuff between two care packages, mailed every other week.

We did get a small ice cream freezer on sale, and we had intended to give it a try today. The watermelon and the ice cream freezer will have to wait for tomorrow (Saturday) or Sunday. There were too many porcelain deadline tasks today.

Sweet Gordon made me go sit down while he checked out at Walmart. I got to take a few pictures and watch people.

A stranger looking at our cart would see all the critter food and wonder if any people live at our house.  HA!

So our Fourth of July was spent, in part, working, taking care of the animals, eating fresh food from the farm, and giving of ourselves to others.

That is probably just as it should be.

I asked Mama and Unc to remember past Fourth of July activities, but the conversation took several detours, so I don't have a story to relate yet.

Hope you had a productive and safe Fourth of July!

From the Fourth

 We had to run some errands and stock up on supplies yesterday, the eve of the Fourth of July. I took along the camera to share some Slice-of-Life pictures with you from Winona, Mississippi and Grenada, Mississippi.

Please keep in mind that all of these pictures were taken through the windshield of the van. More of my Drive-by Shooting Collection.

The first picture is what we see every time we go through the drive through window at our bank in Winona, MS, the county seat of Montgomery County.

I don't know who owns the lot on which this garage or tool shed proudly displays this "Buy American" sign. It is a perfect place for this important reminder when people are either depositing or withdrawing money.

The giant Grocery Store Man has stood guard outside of Super Value grocery store in Winona, MS,  for as long as I can remember. I think he was there before Super Value was even there. Do you know?

I've still not gotten the picture of him that I envision getting. He is surprisingly difficult to photograph creatively.

In time...I'll get the perfect picture! The journey of photography is the intoxicating part, is it not?

UPDATE: Hearing from folks who live in or used to live in WInona, the Grocery Man has been there at least 32 years, even when the grocery store was called Big Star and Market Basket. I'll update as I learn more. That sign must have been made VERY well to have not needed repainting all this time. I wonder who made it.

The highway department was mowing along Interstate 55. I love to see they let the wildflowers go to seed before they mow.

The freshly mowed grass smelled so green and calming as the van's air conditioner sucked in fresh air before chilling it.

We are in the middle of a dry spell in our part of the state. Some might even call it a drought. Our sweet corn on the farm is not filling out because of the lack of rain.

But look at the Interstate 55 between Winona and Grenada. Look at that lush green growth.

We Mississippians tend to take our lush vegetation and bounty of water for granted because we see such beauty all the time.

We passed this delicious load of lumber during the drive. Out of my mouth popped, "I wish we had that load of lumber on the farm and he (the driver) had an even better and larger load of lumber."

Until Gordon got accustomed to such statements, I had to explain that Daddy had used this method to teach me the principle of not coveting what belonged to somewhere else.

I can hear Daddy's voice now, "I wish I had that beautiful boat, and that man had an even bigger and better boat."

Even a 45 year old woman has to consistently practice the discipline of not coveting what others have...not being jealous of others.

First stop was the Day Old Bread Store. We stock up at the first of the month and freeze the bread. For 20 loaves of different bread and a ten other items, we only spent $35. What is a loaf of bread at full retail now, over $2 per loaf?

Do you buy and freeze bread? Do you have bread outlet stores like this in your area?

Next to the bread store in Grenada is the Dodge dealership. Gordon and I drove through the parking lot to look at the trucks.

We want to buy a truck with enough power to pull a fifth wheel (RV). We're not ready to buy the RV yet, but getting the truck is the next step.

We need a good truck on the farm as demonstrated when the old 1994 green van had a warning light come on, preventing Gordon from taking the kiln to the repair shop on Tuesday.

We'll talk vehicles another time because I would like the benefit of your experience. We want to buy a program truck, preferably from 2007 or 2008. All the dealership had was 2006 or 2007.

We want a dual cab. You will notice in the picture of the red trucks that I noted one was a double cab PLUS some extra space. Have you had experience with that? Advice?

I want a tan or champaign color like our just-paid-for van. We will be keeping her for a good many more years. 250,000 miles is our goal for any vehicle we buy.

More fun and silly "slice of life" stuff to share with you later today, the Fourth of July.

For now, some sleep.

Tab Boren of Mantachie, MS

I am tired. Zombie. Brain dead. Slowed to a Walking Dead pace.

Almost too tired to blog, so tonight I will share a bouquet of Black Eyed Susan wildflowers (in the sunflower family) displayed in one of my favorite pottery vases.

I collect hand-thrown pottery. Preferably from places I have visited or potters I have met. Especially Mississippi potters!

I met Tab Boren back in 2002 at a signing. She and I were signing our respective work at a gift shop in Tupelo. Tab brought her wheel, and I have some pictures of her throwing little heart-shaped pots.

I think I also have pictures of a table full of drool-worthy pottery that she had thrown by hand. I wanted all of it! She was doing dragonflies on some of her pieces that I wanted so badly. If I can remember I will look for those pictures and come back and post them here.

These Black Eyed Susan flowers are in a vase that I ostensibly bought for my mother's birthday. The flowers and pottery vase are on display in the old farmhouse, and the pottery stays on a shelf in the dining room in the farm house.

But Mama knew the truth. She knew that I could not live without this vase. Since she is the one who got me hooked on collecting pottery, it all works out just fine. I can give her pottery for presents, and she can give me pottery for presents, and we are both as happy as a cat sleeping in a ray of sunshine!

Tab impressed me with her Christian perspective on life and because she was taking care of elderly parents while trying to run a business. She also has a big heart for giving of herself to others.

Apparently Tab comes from a pottery family. She learned her art from her grandmother Eupal Riley of Peppertown Pottery. Now I must find some of Mrs. Riley's work as well!

Gordon and I must get to Mantachie, where Tab lives, and splurge on some more pottery! Definitely. Maybe I can order some by email or phone.

Oh, baby! I just discovered the gallery section of her website! Gotta have some of that!!

Oh, and yes, I must share more of my pottery obsession with you. You will probably laugh at me for how well the different pieces, made by different potters from different states, all blend well together as if I planned to collect a particular range of mix-and-match colors!

Lots and lots of porcelain. More problems...not unexpected. Still working the problem. Still in good spirits. Just very, very tired. Going to bed early tonight.

If you know of some talented potters who throw on the wheel, please share with me. I will never have enough pottery! NEVER! *wicked grin*

Meshack, come home, sweetie!

Remember I told you that a power surge or strike of lightning came in and zapped three of our four kilns back some months ago? The smallest kiln was burned out completely.

The twin kilns, Shadrack and Meshack (first two kilns I bought for the studio; they are identical) both were hit, but we got Shadrack back earlier in June.

Well, this weekend, Shadrack stopped firing properly. It shows indication of a malfunction in the switch (recently replaced) and in some elements.

This means that we cannot fire any porcelain until we get a working kiln back.  We have Big Bertha, but she takes a day to warm up, a day to cook, and a day to cool down. She is a only an option of last resort.

Tomorrow, Gordon takes Shadrack to the Kiln doctor and picks up Meshack. Hopefully Meshack will settle right in and fire perfectly until we meet the deadline for the pineapple brooches just after the Fourth of July.

This is so typical of normal "complications" we face when we have any deadline. After 16 years in this studio, I am much better at handling what many would call a total disaster, but this has been a learning process.

Oh, my, have I learned the hard way how to keep working the problem. DO NOT GIVE UP is part of my DNA.

That sticktuitiveness actually gets in the way of discerning what God wants me to do in life. Many times He has had to pry my locked, cold fingers off of something (relationship or creative pursuit) before I would stop trying to make it work. 

As I share with you the changes underway in this studio, I'll tell you more about the "bumps in the road". Why?

During this ongoing journey of transition, it has helped me to read about others who have struggled and struggled to evolve their business That is what I hope to share on this blog... encouragement, even when the circumstances cry "disaster".

Some good news today:  Miss Dollie is back at work after missing work all of last week. She was knocked down by a white van in the Walmart parking lot in Grenada Saturday, June 21, injuring her shoulder.

Miss Dollie is not 100 percent, but she can do the first steps on preparing the raw porcelain for me to finish. Last week, Gordon and I had to step in and do more for Mama and Unc...things Miss Dollie does so faithfully and without complaint.

It did mean we had less time and less energy for the porcelain, but we still made good progress.  We Worked the Problem.

We are watching Miss Dollie closely to be sure she does not re-injure her shoulder by trying to do something that her shoulder does not need to do yet. Miss Dollie has taught me so much about faithfulness and loyalty through her example here, and I want to honor her by protecting her from re-injuring her shoulder.

This weekend, Gordon and I watched some program about oil well drilling, "Black Gold". What struck me was how familiar it seemed.

All three drill sites had everything go wrong. If it could break, jam, or malfunction, those guys experienced it. Each delay cost money and threatened to shut down the job.

Through the whole program, I caught myself thinking this phrase, in a mental mantra,  Work the Problem. "Yep, Work the Problem, Guys".

It helped seeing others encounter a hard-to-explain cascade of challenges, leaving only the option of Working the Problem.

I feel strong and positive tonight. It is a new week, a new set of challenges and a new set of opportunities to make something good come from this journey.

Time for bed and a little help falling asleep. One has to get plenty of rest during times like this.

Lunch with the fur kids

This was a first for me...taking one of the fur kids to have lunch at a local eatery.

Gordon's aunt and uncle came through nearby Winona, Mississippi, today (Thursday) on their way to Pigeon Forge, TN. They have a little Maltese, Toby.

Woody's Old Town Grill has an outdoor patio as its entrance, so of course we went there. Plus, I was craving one of the mushroom burgers that I used to get there in the early 1980's. Their mushroom burger of old is no longer on the menu, but they still make it for folks like me who can't get them out of our minds.

It was in the 90's today in Mississippi, and we were dreading melting over lunch, but I was thrilled to discover that the patio was perfectly situated for a super breeze. We were completely comfortable, and we lingered over lunch for a long conversation.

I thought the restaurant owners must have known some secret about raised patios being cooler...or they planned for the air currents created by nearby passing vehicles to help cool outdoor customers...until I learned later today that the building had begun life as a freight office, designed for 18 wheelers to back up to the front door. At least I might get an "A" for creative meteorology?

Codye, our waitress, even brought some water in a bowl for the dogs. I thought that was a particularly special gesture.

Annie wore one of her custom collar slipcovers with embroidery. Pattern and details are here.

Annie had a blast sitting under my chair or right at my feet, watching people come and go. Because of the raised patio entrance, she got to watch bobbing heads with people attached emerge from the ramp and then disappear down the ramp. She loved it, and I was proud as a peacock that my fur child just sat and watched, perfectly at ease and not interested in drawing attention to herself!

Annie gave me many of those smiles I have worked hard to earn from her. Because of the abuse in her background, it took a while to earn those smiles. They are priceless to us!

Seeing us meeting strangers (to Annie) holding a little white dog, I think Annie was worried that we were bringing yet another dog into our fur family here on the farm, or that we might be giving her away.

It was just a fleeting expression of concern. Annie can convey her emotions very effectively.

Toby was enthusiastically expressing his male machismo, and Annie looked at him with a withering look that said, "Look, kid. You are like 1/3 my size. I could whip you with two paws tied behind my back, and besides, you are a bowaay. (psshhaaww) Leave me alone (sneer)."

Tonight, Annie has chosen to curl up with her head on my shoulder so that I could whisper into her pert pink ears those little private phrases that I only share with my precious Annie.

Each time we take Annie on a special "adventure", she and I grow closer. It is a privilege to watch this little furry treasure open up and give more of her little heart and allow more love to reach the old emotional hurts.

What I'm Really Doing

For something different, I thought I would let you have a peek inside my work day, in the middle of this really big, looming, humongous, leering deadline to which I have referred often in the past few months.

A peek today, a peek tomorrow and so forth.

I'm sharing this with you while I wait for a burst of energy to do a third session of porcelain to put in the kiln and fire tonight.

Working with "green" or raw or unfired porcelain is like working with an unbaked pie crust. It is very fragile and can crumble if I look at it wrong.

I have a "Three Breaks and Stop" rule. After I've broken the third piece in a work session, I have to stop until I am more rested, calmer, or have better control of my hands.

Since starting this studio in 1992 and since introducing my line of original sculpture in 1996 (Christmas ornaments, jewelry, vases, tile, statues), tens of thousands of pieces of porcelain have crossed my work tray.

I go through tools at an amazing rate. Note the ends of the tools in the second picture. The large tool is relatively new. The almost-worn-to-a-nub tool has been used for a month or so. Try to picture wearing down a hard metal sculpting tool against material with the texture of an uncooked pie crust.

You see, I am the last pair of hands to work on every piece that comes out of this studio. I decided early on that if my signature was on the piece, then I wanted to have put in time finishing that piece.

I collect stuff that carries an artist's signature or logo...but the last time that artist ever touched that line was when the original was finished. More on this area of conversation later. I will be asking for your thoughts and opinions.

For tonight, I'll just share the work setting today.

Today I spread an old quilt on the bed, propped up a BUNCH of pillows, positioned a flax pillow in the small of my back, put my work tray on a big 37 inch square pillow in my lap, covered with old towels, and started sculpting tiny details on each of these Spirit of Hospitality Pineapple brooches.

This is a special commission for 600 brooches for the National Society Daughters of the American Revolution. The deadline is the first week of July. This project started 16 months ago, and it has been a nail-biter. 

The Penny Sanford Porcelain studio is in a transition phase. We have more requests for special commissions than we can do, and we need to transition to a custom manufacturer to free me up to create more original art.

I'll be sharing this bumpy ride with you in future posts. You too will be saying, "what ELSE can go wrong?" Well, oodles, I promise, some of it genuinely funny!

Two intense work sessions today, propped up on my pillows, with Elvis sleeping against me, his head often propped on the work tray.

In his second picture, he is playing Peep--Eye with me, opening those beautiful big brown loving eyes from time to time, just to check on me. I love you too, my little man.

Lillibeth snuggles with one of her toys in the last picture. She and Annie usually log as many hours as Elvis "assisting" me with the porcelain.

It is dusty, messy, tedious work, and I love it. 

If I've not sculpted for a week, for example, the act of sinking a tool into the clay or the raw porcelain is still a fresh, exciting experience.

So back to the porcelain. I'd like to complete seven more brooches tonight, giving me a total of 20 in the kiln.

It is slow work. Right now, it is taking me 20 or 30 minutes PER brooch.

More behind the scenes to come...

What a Wee Westie Lass Wears

Aaahh, what a Wee Westie Lass wears on a sultry summer evening in Mississippi...

Why, a vivid, sleeveless kimono!

Annie models her completed frock for you after I spent five minutes this afternoon finishing the bow.

What can I say...the kimono band started out in a squiggly Dr. Seuss mood, but I was listening to Star Trek: Enterprise when I finished the bow, so the bow is a bit Sci Fi.  The kimono influence came from the discussion and documenting a bit of family history from Occupied Japan.

Ya think all those disparate influences will give Annie a complex? Or give her bad dreams? Yikes! Hope not!

No time to sit and chat with you tonight. Patterns and more chic doggie designs to come, I promise...after this big porcelain deadline.

Back to porcelain, folks.

Eyes are hurting tonight. Allergies, I think...so I really cannot tell how these photos edited.

The two shots of the kimono sans Annie are ones I could not clearly see the color and detail on the computer screen. Maybe the fabric has a sheen to it.

I may need to reshoot those pictures another day.

Now, to think of what the next outfit will be...It is fun to sew for the fur babies.

If you missed Lillibeth's Flower Child Dress, here it is.

You may want to check out my collar slipcover patterns that I share, for free, on this blog. Those patterns and ideas are under the categories of Fur Kids or Projects (maybe both).

I won't take time right now to find the exact links...will do later tonight if I have any uummph left after starting the kiln.

Charlotte's Subtle Web

I've not posted as much about Charlotte as she deserves. Charlotte was one of the eight puppy mill Westies we rescued last September.

Charlotte chose Unc as she took her first few steps on the farm. She adores Unc. She follows him everywhere he will allow her to go which includes the garden.

Which means Charlotte will always have tan legs, tummy and hindquarters. As long as she is happy, then I am happy, regardless of her shading.

Charlotte has also spun her web over Gordon, Mama and me. We think she may be a sister to Lillibeth.

She is very shy and nervous around more dominant dogs (the other Westies), but she seems to get along great with the tall English Shepherds.Charlotte spends her time in the farmhouse with my mother and uncle and the English Shepherds. Seeing her little personality emerge is a treasure to be savored.

Today, Gordon and I Westie-napped Charlotte for a few hours for a Westie Beauty Treatment in the studio. She soaked up every ounce of special attention, but she was more than ready to resume her chosen post at Unc's heels.

Today was a good Monday. I was able to complete more porcelain than I expected to finish today, and the kiln is already firing tonight.

Now, I'm too pooped to plod through all the email. Tomorrow is another day for porcelain with time for email and such. Tonight it will be a treat to get to bed before 10 p.m.!  The Westies (and Gordon) continue to train me to "live in the moment", worry less and allow more time for rest.

The Kennel Murder Case, 1933, is playing on the television. They've already featured an adorable Scotty named Captain, I think. All of our Westies paid close attention to the Scotty's barks. I wonder what the little tyke said way back in 1933 that our Westies understood tonight. 

I've not paid too much attention to the story line. There are plenty of dogs in the movie, so it is fun to watch the fur kid reactions when the dogs bark their lines on screen.  A very cozy evening, this is, indeed.

A Flower Child Westie

Lovely day. Truly a lovely weekend.

The icing on the weekend was these pictures that Gordon took this afternoon of Lillibeth, Mackie and Sunny. It was bath day for the boys, Mackie and Elvis.
Elvis helped me with porcelain late this afternoon...his big brown eyes watching my every move while he rested against me as I made some progress on the big looming porcelain deadline.

I made time to finish putting the snaps on Lillibeth's new dress and Annie's new kimono. That was good therapy to see the two girls strutting around in their new clothes.

Something happens to Lillibeth when she is wearing a dress. Annie is becoming that way as well. Hopefully we can capture the transformation on video.

Pictures and patterns to come, I promise.

While I worked on porcelain, I thought about the next little outfits I would make. We've not tried a little dress on Charlotte. I hope she will enjoy the special attention as well!

Our letter to mail to our "adopted" soldier is written and ready to mail tomorrow.

Trying to get to sleep a bit early tonight. First time in about three weeks I have not ached like the flu at night. Very thankful for that!

It is going to be a busy week!

I still wonder what was in those tunnels

Found some more pictures and papers from Unc's time in the U.S. Army in Occupied Japan.

This first picture is supposed to show the widespread damage in Nagoya..a bit hard to see in this faded old black and white picture.

Unc has talked a lot over the years about how few structures remained that were intact or were not in danger of falling down at the time of the U.S. Occupation of Japan.

Nagoya was apparently hit with lots of "regular" bombs...no atom bombs and not incendiary bombs. I have not had time to research that, and I am curious.

The place where Unc was assigned to work was in an old Mitsubishi Airplane Plant where the Japanese made Zero's. From what I read on the Internet, the Nagoya Mitsubishi Zero plants were referred to as "Airframe" plants, which would suggest that just the frame of the zero was made there, not the engine...but I may be wrong.

Unc said the plant had been cleaned out before he and other U.S. Army personnel set up in the building to repair guns. There were no spare parts or unfinished planes or equipment lying around in the building.

This was an interesting and well researched website about the production of the various versions of Japanese Zero airplanes in Nagoya.

The article refers to production in the third Mitsubishi plant in Nagoya, but I have no idea which plant is depicted in the photograph from Unc's box of memorabilia.

I'm also remembering from a History Channel program that toward the end of the war, the citizens of Japan dug up the roots of pine (?) trees to distill into fuel for the airplanes. I forget how many thousands of trees were required to fill the tank of one of the fighter airplanes. Amazing determination of the rank-and-file citizen of Japan to help win the war.

One passing comment from Unc's reminis -cences this time made my hair stand on end.

Apparently there were under -ground shelters or tunnels or spaces under the Mitsubishi Airframe Plant where Unc and others worked.

Unc tells some fun tales of sounds heard from underneath the plant, but he was not aware if any US Army personnel had ever checked out the tunnels.

HUH?  I think I would have been asking about that...like...every day!  And remember that U.S. Army personnel were not allowed to carry guns in Occupied Japan!

Unc did tell of an anti-aircraft gun being discovered under a rice drying rack near their barracks well after the Japanese surrender.

Uh, after that live gun discovery, I think I would have been back at the headquarters strongly suggesting a thorough check of those underground spaces at the Mitsubishi Plant!

Ha! Something tells me the Army would not have appreciated the overactive imagination of a pushy broad!

Unc was assigned to the 359th Ordnance Maintenance Company. He could repair anti-aircraft guns and big mounted machine guns. I'll have to come back and put in the correct calibers. The letterhead of his second promotion calls it the 72d Ordnance Group...so maybe they moved him around?

During basic training, Unc tested with an IQ of 149, and the powers that be tried to get him to go into officer training. He respectfully declined.

Then he was shooting so well that a wise old Sargent quietly explained to him that the Army was needing snipers and that snipers had a life expectancy of...a very very short time. Ya know, Unc's target accuracy decidedly declined after that?

Unc wanted to do his duty, and he wanted to serve his country, but he wanted to come home and be a farmer, carrying on the family tradition. I think he lived up to his IQ tests.

He kinda morphed into being an acting supply person without the rank. He was scheduled to come back home about the time the job opened up, so he filled the position and trained the new guy without getting the promotion.

I guess that is why a gun mechanic has paperwork dealing with laundry. He has quite a few stories about signing out a truck and a driver and what they encountered on their way to and from some task. 

Unc also laughs about the little Japanese kids trying to confuse the GI's who delivered big bags of laundry to the authorized Japanese Laundries. The kids would count in Japanese, but out of order, while the poor GI was trying to keep the number of bags straight.

Unc quickly learned to count in Japanese so that the cute little tykes could not confuse him. He said they would just laugh and giggle when they discovered he could count in Japanese. I wonder if much of their laughter was because of his pronunciation with a Southern accent?.

It pleases and amazes me that the Japanese children instinctively knew they could tease and would not be harmed by the GI's.

I think our soldiers around the world find basically the same reaction from the kids in the exotic countries in which our soldiers are stationed.

It did fascinate me to see his promotion orders in his box of memories. The paper on which all of these routine tasks were printed is very thin...all that was available at the time and in that location.

If by some miracle, you know any of the people listed on these old Army documents, please let me know. I'm sure Unc would be thrilled to hear how their life turned out.

The last document was maybe someone's guide to learning Japanese? Unc does not now remember why he has it or what it meant.

If you can translate, it would greatly please an 82 year old veteran of World War II. (You can click on a picture to make it larger.)

All of this has greater meaning to me because Gordon and I are hoping to hear from the soldier we adopted through Soldiers Angels. Getting to know him as a person will put a face on this war for us.

You may have already read that we have not had any active duty soldiers in our close family since Korea.

These stained and creased papers that Unc has saved all these years made him choke up while sharing some of his memories.

I'm trying to get my mind around how Unc's experiences in the Army changed his life and impacted the decisions he would make after the Army.

Something similar may be going on with the soldier to whom we are sending letters and care packages in...that place that has a lot of sand.

I enjoyed hearing from you after the previous post on this topic, both in the comments and via email.

Throwing Cheerios into Godzilla's Face

It has been a good week. Truly.

The computer was not annihilated by antioxidants.  The porcelain fired beautifully in one of the repaired and returned kilns. Unc mowed and bush-hogged his heart out this week. I still have eyes that are working. What more could I want from a really good week?

Someone paid us just in time for us to pay a big bill. Gordon and I are learning more and more how to trust God to control that kinda stuff so that we don't get swamped with worry and stress.

We met little deadlines and made tangible progress toward big deadlines. I had blog time that included time to write up a little family history. Gordon scanned some more old slides and photos, another step in a multi-year project.

At this moment, while writing this post, I'm also moving all the scans of old family slides and pictures from every hiding place Gordon has used on our multi-computer network to hide these scans of old photos.

Really, the boy cannot put new scans in the same folder on the same computer to save his life. (That's a whole 'nother story).

But to continue the good stuff from this week: Annie loves her new kimono which only lacks the little bow on the back. Almost finished with Lillibeth's new dress. 

Fleas under control with just herbs. Dogs are not scratching from allergies to man-made chemical flea poisons. Birds fed. Short little rains this week to feed the crops. A great week!

Everywhere I look we have made progress this week. I should feel fantabulous!

Instead, I am climbing the walls.  This is almost one of those dreaded "buried alive" feelings I get from time to time, usually before something bad happens. Flu aches in every joint. Skin burning from the inside out.

Oh Drat! Gordon has found the television remote control, so we are now jumping mid-sentences from channel to channel. I'm pretty good at hiding that little bugger to limit Gordon's channel surfing, but one of the Westies rolled over on it and made the channel change, giving away the hiding place.

Hubby's Male Pattern Channel Surfing is not blending well with Wife's Buried Alive Hormone Blizzard.

This is a night for a blood thirsty movie like Rambo, but hubby NetFlixed some silent movie shorts instead. (Maybe I coined a new word there! NetFlixed! I like it!).

Feeding me silent movie shorts tonight is like throwing cheerios into Godzilla's face.

I wonder if Gordon realizes how close he is walking to the precipice of a bottomless cavern of uncontrolled and unjustified female rage?

Do men have a little warning beep in their heads that tells them when to walk softly carrying a big bowl of chocolate or chocolate ice cream or chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream.

No wait! Even better: chocolate cake with chocolate ice cream with chocolate sprinkles on top!

There is a joke about catching Osama Bin Laden by parachuting a bunch of menopausal women into the craggy mountains of Afghanistan.

That joke has a much, much richer meaning to me today, sneaking up on age 46, than it did back in 2002. I'd love a crack at OBL while in this particularly intense mood! *wicked grin*

Hubby may just have to drive 25 miles to a Super Walmart to BUY a copy of Rambo for me tonight. I need to see those bad guys being blown into little pieces of fish bait.  And we need some of those store brand Reece's Peanut Butter Cups!!! At least several bags of them!

Antioxidants are not good for computers!

You should know and remember that antioxidants are not good for computers!

Last night, I managed (somehow) to tip over a bottle of chilled green tea from the bedside table. It somersaulted several times before hitting the floor with a big "Sploosh"!!

No sweat. It is mostly water. Gordon ran into the other room for a towel, and as he was handing the towel to me, his bluebonnet-blue eyes grew huge with horror!

My laptop, on a separate table, but nearby, was showing one of those blue screens of impending death. Not THE Blue Screen of Death, but the one that said, if I remember correctly:

"You stupid heifer. You just splashed liquid all over this keyboard! This computer is now eating your data with every passing nanosecond, and we are going to make you cough up money you don't have for a new computer which you cannot live without."

Yep, I'm pretty sure that was the exact wording of the message on the screen.

TaDaDaDaDA! Hubby Geek to the rescue!

Faster than the appearance of yet another new Windows OS bug, Gordon lept over tall dog steps and yanked the power cords from the back of the laptop. He mopped droplets and started the drying process.

For the rest of the night, he pulled out parts of the laptop, put them under a lamp to dry out, put parts back in (with no parts left over), and rebooted the computer.

That blue screen of  vengeance would appear after a few minutes, but each time it took longer and longer for the nasty message to appear.

Well, I don't have to tell you that I, as Gordon's fearless wife and helpmate in life, committed to remaining by his side through all of life's challenges, dove under the mass of pillows and my Linus blanket (yellow chenille) and hid with the Westies for the rest of the night. I kept praying,

"Lord, I trust You." "It is your computer, and I trust You in whatever lesson you are teaching us right now."

Even today, I was too scared and depressed to venture out of the bed. I worked on porcelain propped up against my mountain of pillows with little white dogs snuggled close, snoring.

I just could not face another big expensive problem for now. Sometimes the bed is the best place to hide and handle the bumps of life.

By mid afternoon, Gordon emerged from his ICU for computers, proclaiming this little laptop had been HEAled!

I don't know how he did it, but my hubby-geek saved this computer from a sure death by antioxidants!

This afternoon, Gordon has backed up every thought on this little box, and we have talked a little about the inevitable replacement of this Pandora's Box.

I'm just thankful! Gordon is my hero!

The Connecting Threads of War

C Gordon and I "adopted" a soldier through Soldiers Angels. We have sent him two letters and two care packages so far. He is stationed in a place where there is sand.

Yes, we know his name and where he is stationed, but that is not information important to this blog. For all I care, he could be stationed in the next county...he is still serving our country, and that is what we want to support.

Apparently, it takes about two weeks to get either a letter or a care package to his location, so he should be receiving his first letter and first care package about now.

Not knowing how old he is or what he does in the military or which part of the U.S. he calls home, my letters have been a bit twittery. Hopefully he will write or email back and let us know enough to refine what we send him.

Mama, Unc and Miss Dollie are equally involved in this "adoption". Miss Dollie has baked cookies for each care package. I thought Unc and Gordon were going to crawl into that first care package and follow those cookies. We have not had home-made cookies in a while.

The care package project has prompted Unc to share his World War II experiences in Occupied Japan (1945-46) in Nagoya.

Then, mail was much slower, so by the time the one care package that actually reached him arrived in Nagoya, the cake inside was green with mold.

It did not matter that the cake was green with mold. It was a package from home, and just receiving a letter or a package could lift spirits of even the soldiers in the bunks around the recipient.

Unc said they threw the green cake away, and watched in amazement as Japanese children retrieved and almost fought over the spoiled cake. This would have been just months after Japan surrendered.

Our family sent many more care packages to Unc, but he only received one while in Japan. The cake was in a tin. How I wish we had that well-traveled cake tin now!

These pictures are some that Gordon scanned recently. One of Unc's army buddies gave him three pictures from their time in occupied Japan. We have found only two of them so far.

Unc takes excellent pictures, and I wish he had had a camera during his time in Occupied Japan.

The cute kids in the cart in the first picture are not the children referred to in the paragraphs above. Unc thinks the second picture was of the Occupation Headquarters in Nagoya. I'm not good enough with Photoshop to make those words under "Headquarters" pop out. Can you tell?

Unc said he was not sure why the people were wearing masks in this circa 1945-1946 photo. Maybe the masks were because of the continuing civilian deaths after Japan's surrender?

Unc remembers that General MacArthur had a standing order for the Japanese authorities to check all the subway and bus stations every day to pick up the bodies of Japanese who had died during the night. It is my understanding that these were fresh civilian deaths after war's end because of disease and long years of malnutrition and strain from the demands of war on the country.

Another possible reason for the masks was the country's sewage system at that time. Unc remembers the Japanese used human wastes to fertilize crops at that time. The open carts that carried this waste to the farms were euphemistically called "honey wagons". Following a ox-pulled sloshing honey wagon in the summer heat was not something the American GI's liked to do.

The landscape and convoy of jeeps is, we think, from Korea and my Uncle D's time fighting in the Korean War. He did have a camera with him, and as we find them, we are scanning those pictures.

Lastly, before I return to the huge looming porcelain deadlines, here is a picture of Annie during a fitting for her kimono that I am making her.

While putting Lillibeth's dress on her the other day, Annie came over and sat down right by Lillilbeth in the way that she comes to have her collar put on. It made me realize that Annie wanted a dress too so that she could also receive the ooohs and aaahs.

Ruffles and frills just do not seem to fit Annie's personality, so, immersed in stories of Japan, I decided to make a little kimono.

This was a fitting, and before I could pin the belly flaps where the snaps would be sewn, Annie took off to give her kimono a spin around the back yard.

Apparently the kimono moved well with her fluffy little body, and Annie has approved the design. She now feels just as special as Lillibeth because she had a little outfit too!

Of course I'll be sharing the pattern and pictures of the finished outfit with you...after the big scary looming porcelain deadlines.

Elvis and Gordon; The Horse Fly Escapes

You just can't make this stuff up, so...all I can do is blog about it.

Today has been a rough day for Elvis, the rescued Westie. Last night Elvis shorted out one of Gordon's 'spensive battery backup thingies that protect all the electronics.

So today, Gordon dug out his old belly bands...Elvis's belly bands, not Gordon's...because Elvis has returned to a certain unsavory bad habit, and he has coaxed Mackie into sharing this bad habit also. The two boys are going through a little jealousy territory thing.

Well, Elvis has gained considerable weight since he came to live here...so the belly band is more of a girdle. A very tight girdle.

Elvis loves attention, so he was willing to wiggle and squirm and absorb all the giggles and ear scratches that came with Gordon putting Elvis in a girdle-belly band.

More than an hour passes.

Elvis has been sleeping soundly on the bed. He has wiggled and squirmed until he has shimmied out of that belly band. He is sleeping on his back with all four legs in the air, mouth open. One very happy dog!

Enter a horse fly. A horse fly the size of a bumble bee.

Annie and Lillibeth spring to attention on the bed. Serious Horse Fly Terminators ready for action. Our Big English Shepherds are scared of horse flies, but little Westies are fearless in the face of a biting horse fly.

Elvis continues to sleep, completely unaware of the danger circling the battlefield.

I am on the phone, thankfully just talking to Unc. 

The horse fly lands on a part of Elvis that is very important to him.

Gordon moves in with the belly band to capture the horsefly and squish it.

Elvis wakes up just in time to see the killer look on Gordon's face, the belly band in Gordon's hand as the belly band and hand lunge for Elvis's personal part.

Apparently my attention tuned into the situation about the same time that Elvis spotted Gordon's killer look and lunge.

I started choking from the laughter. Gordon was doubled over in laughter. Unc was wondering what had suddenly possessed his niece. Elvis was first standing, then sitting in a defensive posture, complaining in that adorable little Westie voice of his.

He is normally very talkative (for a dog), and he makes many different sounds.

Elvis made some new sounds for Gordon tonight, and he had a good bit to say about being waked up in such a rude way.

The horse fly escaped.

I'm afraid Elvis will never look at Gordon the same way again. They did make an awkward peace with Gordon letting Elvis sniff his fingers before he scratched Elvis's ears, but there is definite tension in that relationship.

Why can't we have video cameras implanted in our eyes for just such an occasion?  Life needs a slow motion and a replay feature!.

My sides hurt.

(Is it Elvis' or Elvis's? We've laughed so hard that neither of us can remember.)

Rainy Saturday Afternoon With a Side of...

It is thundering this afternoon here on the farm. Maybe we will have a little rain shower. Love rainy weekend afternoons.

Most of the clothes are washed and folded. The dishes will be conquered. Gordon is fantastic about sharing house duties like that. Some weeks he does all of the dishes and clothes.

Most of the dogs have had baths in the last couple of days. The rest we will get this weekend. Gordon sprayed the back yard with malathion this weekend, and Unc has  logged many miles on the riding lawn mower.

We are trying hard to survive the summer without having to put chemicals directly on the dogs. We're using tea tree essential oil, lavender essential oil and other herbal ingredients in a number of home-made rinses.

The Mississippi Steam Bath season has begun, and even the ants have tried to to all move into the buildings. Truly, you walk outside, and it is as if you walked into a steam bath.

BTW tea tree oil is wicked on ants as well! Good stuff! I'll share some of our herbal recipes at some future time. This is just a rambly catch-up post.

Monday was the visit to the Glaucoma Specialist. Good news. Not raging glaucoma. Pressure is up. Medicine from here on out to keep the pressure down. Family history of glaucoma, so I knew this would develop one day. I'm just so thankful for those broken glasses that led to the discovery of the jumped up pressure.

Thankful that the week as a blind zombie is past. There were other business disappointments or complications during that blind week that I'd rather not remember, but they were all part of life's journey for Gordon and me. Another pop quiz in our continuing education as humans.

Now, because of one of those business disappointments, Gordon and I are facing an impossible deadline for the first of July.  All we can do is just keep our heads down and push, push, push on porcelain. Sharing details would get me down, so I'll share details another time.

Had some good time Monday waiting in the doctor's office to work on this never ending block of Botanika by Robyn Pandolph. At least I'm over half finished finally. I really like the mindless applique of these endless leaves. I don't have to think.

This third picture was taken February 4th, so apparently I started this block back in January. Five months so far for one little quilt block! Gee, that is lame!

Here is where I asked for your input on how I should put Botanika together with photos of various options.

My quilting bug has not released its grip on me. We've just had no extra time this year to do much sewing.

I actually did a little bit of sewing on the sewing machine this week when I needed a few minutes of therapy.

Somehow that led to a reorganization of the whole room which is in progress and will continue for a bit.

Gordon will never understand how that happens...Wife sits down to sewing machine, and in five minutes, hubby is being asked to move furniture around the room.  Yep, I'll share a funny story about that soon.

Gotta tell you about Soldiers Angels and us "adopting" a soldier to whom to send letters and care packages. Soon, I promise. Yep, already stumbled into some humorous little tidbits with that.

Fold a load of clothes then back to work on porcelain. Maybe I will be able to applique another leaf sometime today.

Hey, life in the exciting, fast lane! NOT! But, I would not trade it for any other life I've ever observed!

Who moved my dried apricots?

You are not going to believe any of this, so I might as well jump in without introduction. Gordon and I discovered today that we really live in the Twilight Zone, and we just did not realize it.

This morning, I spent in the studio catching up with some important business-related emails. At noon, I went up to the "Big House" to have lunch with Mama, ship out a package and a few pieces of mail, grab a shower and wash a dog.

I could be back in the studio by 1 p.m. or 1:30 p.m. max...to start working on a big honking urgent rush deadline for porcelain.

It is now 4:30 p.m., and I have just melted into my side of the bed (also work center, sewing center, office space, etc.) Ingested a Valium and am waiting for my hands to quit shaking so that I can work on that big honking urgent rush stat deadline for porcelain.

What happened between noon and 4:30 p.m.? 

Dried Apricots and Hand Nippers and Mama's Scattered Medicine.

"Penny, what did you do with my dried apricots?"

"Unc, I have not touched your dried apricots. The last time I saw them was when we were sending that care package to the soldier, and you made me eat one, and I told you that we would not be sending a partially eaten package of dried apricots to Iraq. Did you take them to your bedroom after that?"

In a very angry, confrontational voice, "I've already looked there and everywhere else. I don't know where they have gone. I wanted some last night and I could not find any. Someone moved my apricots!!!"

"Maybe they are there on the table?" at which point I gesture to a two foot stack of newspapers and books on the kitchen table. The kitchen table is Unc's domain. Period. 

If he could put an electric fence around that kitchen table, he would...except he would keep forgetting that he had electrified the edges of the table, and would electrocute himself...which would become the fault of Gordon and me for messing with his stuff causing him to have to put an electric fence around it in the first place.

Miss Dollie helps us take care of both of them and helps with porcelain and cooks like a...I don't know what, but something wonderful.

Gordon tells me often that it was Miss Dollie's cookies that cinched the deal on him marrying me. He blames her cooking for any extra pounds he might have put on since we got married. That is a whole 'nother story.

Anyway, Miss Dollie had to go hide in the pantry because she was fighting laughter so hard. Sure it is funny to WATCH Unc go through one of his temper tantrums as long as you are not the one to whom the temper tantrum is directed!

(You are reading this with the humor with which it was written, right? More Maxine than Erma Bombeck)

When she could control her stifled laughter, she walked to the counter with the bread and immediately put her hands on those dried apricots. They had been there all the time, right where Unc had put them, right where they were supposed to be, and Unc was just too nearsighted to see them.

Mama, gleefully reported that last night he stomped around looking for his apricots and swore that "If I walked down to that damned studio, I would find my apricots! THEY took them."

Well, dried apricots are not on Gordon's food list. I eat one when it is pushed into my face, like last week, but I'd steal the dehydrated bananas and raisins and dehydrated apples and pear before I'd take Unc's dried apricots!

Actually, we have an extraordinary long daily check list of items that need to be in place so that Unc won't stomp and storm around. Silly things. Minute things, but important things to Unc, at age 82. Think Crankshaft the comic strip or the movie Grumpy Old Men, but magnified.

Whenever we try to clean up that kitchen table and put tools back in tool drawers and wash the caps that get flattened under the reading materials and collect any mail of importance, we know to expect several days of snorts and complaints about us moving something, hiding something, or throwing away something vital to national security.

The situation really is funny, and we can now laugh about it. In the first years of our marriage, Gordon had a difficult time until he learned what it was like to take care of 80-somethings and Never Move Their Stuff!

Well, Unc was not embarrassed about the dried apricots. It just made him madder.

From there we moved to "Who Moved My Hand Nippers" ...think trimming off tree branches. That search started in the kitchen corner where Unc piles up the various tools he might want in the middle of the night and would not want to go to the basement or barn or tool house or his woodworking shop to find.

You guessed it. He gets furious when we try to move the electric sander out of the kitchen and back to the woodworking shop. There is a piece of walnut log in that corner that I have not had the nerve to tackle

I can tell him clearly and distinctly that I have moved the hoe down to the basement.  I can repeat the information and be sure that he heard what I said and was actually listening to my words, rather than thinking of some army tale that is vaguely similar to something that passed over the television. The next day, "Who Moved My Hoe!"

I get to be the epicenter of the storm. Lucky me!

If Unc wants to fuss about something Gordon has done, real or perceived, so he comes and stomps and storms and curses at me. If Unc wants to get out of Mama's line of fire, he comes to me, and I "volunteer" to calm her down. 

Hurricane Alice can easily get to category 5 and leave a swath of nothingness...if I don't jump into the situation as fast as possible. Tornado Unc has lots of little twisters that leave total chaos.

After "Who Moved My Hand Nippers", I made the mistake of trying to sort the pills that he had accidentally dumped on the floor...a whole week's worth of Mama's meds.

Unc did NOT like me messing in his sandbox. Well, thankfully, I did "stick my nose in it". 

Sorting the pills and putting them in their proper cubicle in one of those 6AM, 10AM, 2PM and 6PM Monday through Sunday organizer things, I discovered that Unc had been really off on some of the medicine.

Happy we had discovered some errors that might have resulted in serious medical consequences for Mama? Uhh, NO!

He was as mad as a water- drenched, frustrated Tom Cat cornered by a couple of Westies. Yep, that is an appropriate picture of Unc this afternoon.

So, med by med, we looked at the print out from the doctor's office, and Unc saw the mistakes and mis-interpreted notes he had written on the list I had in the box of medicine, and we slowly filled Mama's medicine dispenser.

Gordon will tell you that I was gentle and patient, never implying that Unc had done anything wrong. I took the blame for not making a new list and not helping him more. That really did not help. He was "mad all over". Oh yes, Gordon had to put his work aside to help with the searches and pill searches and pill negotiations.

We can only give Mama one day's medicine at a time because she likes to play musical cubicles with the pretty little pills. That was an adventure that I will not soon forget

We now have a new, more detailed list of what medicine is taken when. I know to check behind Unc when he fills the box. Don't want to take away all of his dignity.

Since this dropped med box; medicine lost; risk of a dog getting a human pill....has happened a number of times before, I suggested we put a piece of regular tape over a day's cubes when it was filled.

He thought this was silly, but being the pesky, irritating niece that I am, he was smugly waiting for the tape to fail.

Gordon got the tape, and I taped Wednesday, Thursday, Friday and Saturday.  Then I TOLD Unc that I was going to try it out by dropping the box on the ground. I TOLD HIM in advance.

I pushed the box off the table and let it flip over several times and land on its face on the kitchen floor. The tape held. Not a pill strayed. This solves a problem that has existed for over a year now.

Good niece? Are you kidding?!?

I was satan's understudy for dropping that medicine box on the floor and scaring Unc like that. Fuss, cuss, snort and storm.

Mama was trying so hard not to laugh, but she was loving every second of it.  Tomorrow it will probably be her turn to play Hurricane. Unc had a very full and successful day playing Tornado.

So, I ended my time in The Big House by doctoring Unc's boo-boo's, checking on any bump, bruise, swelled joint, pulled muscle that I could remember. With a little bit of coddling, he was all smiles and giggles,  A box of new-to-them books arrived, so they will have a grand time deciding who gets to read which book first.

Tomorrow, I will learn what I moved, hid, lost, used up, did not think of doing or did not think to ask about today. That class that I took in college (1979-1983), "Psychology of The Aging" was CLUELESS! If you are writing a book about eldercare, get in touch with me!!!

I never took meds to calm me down or help me sleep until the last couple of years. Now it takes me HOURS to wind down each night.

Sweet, loveable, thoughtful, wonderful Gordon has just put in the new Rambo movie that came in today from NetFlix. (NetFlix works out to be much less expensive per movie than Pay-Per-View or the Big Screen.)

My steady and trustworthy Mr. Frugal knows that I need a calming movie like Rambo to help me focus and regain my composure for a long night of finishing porcelain for that big honking urgent rush stat humongous looming deadline!

Maybe tomorrow I will tell you about the Glaucoma Specialist thinking Gordon was my son! ROFLOL

Cloverfield...the comedy?

The following may prove beyond the shadow of a doubt why I have never worked as a movie critic.

Hubby, the FRUGAL, finally agreed to do a Pay Per View movie. We've seen fewer pay-per-view movies than years we have been married. Remember that we have only been to one movie in the theater in the going-on-five years we have been married.

This was a big deal this afternoon. I was excited! Truly! I was looking forward to two hours of escapism.

Hubby picked out Cloverfield. 

That was fine with me. I like Predator and Alien and Predator vs. Alien. I love blood and guts movies, PRO-military movies (not the movies that try to undermine our military). I love disaster movies. From the promos, I was anticipating a really cool movie.

Well, I liked the monster...the really big one and all the little dog-sized grasshopper ones that either the big monster regurgitated, or they rode along on his back. They were good and scarey. Hollywood seems to be stuck on that Alien type of outer fangs/jaws that open up to either a little head inside or another mouth inside.

Anyway, it did not bother me that the monster had something similar. Hollywood does seem to have problems with coming up with a lot of original ideas in any given year.

The hand-held camera telling the story was a good idea. Gordon questioned a camera that was still running two hours from party through disaster. Videocameras are not my area of expertise so I was cool with the super-long-lasting batteries and super-long tape in the videocamera. The new battery for the cell phone stolen from the shelves of an electronic store probably would have not been charged straight out of the package, but it was in this movie. I was still cool with the artistic license.

The collapsing buildings and crashing debris were all realistic.Loved them.

The military was on top of the disaster FAST, and they looked good and fearless and had triage centers set up and were facing death without any hesitation.  The military was just as I would have written and directed them. Quite realistic, IMHO.

The principle actors...the early 20-something hip crowd that had gathered for a party and spent the rest of the film screaming and saying "OMG" and "I can't believe this!" are what had Gordon and me in stitches throughout the film.

Lets start with the party. The party was about the dullest party I've ever seen. Thankfully I have not been to any like that...and I've always been a square (so one would expect that any parties I have attended, even in my 20-something years would be exaggeratedly dull. None of the parties I have ever attended have been as boring as the party in this movie.

Maybe one had to be drunk or drugged to "get" that party. The women were all fashionably beige. An amalgam of Hispanic, Indian, African American...you know, that very hip and trendy "beige" look that does not fit into any one nationality. The women were very pretty. Borderline Anorexic. All legs. All short skirts.

The gossipy action was junior high school..tops. Except for the part about Rob sleeping with the chick in the gold sequined baby doll mini dress...ONE TIME. But hey, I am out of touch. Maybe sleeping together in Junior High School is done nowadays.

The copulation must have been earth-shattering, because Rob just sat on the sofa across the room and watched Miss Gold Sequins being chatted up by several of the guys. They really didn't know each other. The sex was "just one of those things," we were led to believe.

Their union was apparently so memorable that Rob was heading off to Japan (without Miss Gold Sequins) for some big job promotion and leave her behind in New York, after all, the sex had been "just one of those things."

BUT AFTER the monster arrived and AFTER the monster killed Rob's brother, both of Rob's brains were determined to rescue this chickie-poo with the gold se