tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72641780205211208552024-03-14T02:02:23.505-05:00Words and pages...Almost anything related to reading, writing, libraries, books, film, art, cats, gardening, sewing, quilting, and other quiet joys, and the occasional rant or twoAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.comBlogger182125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-77710389331496949912017-04-25T17:08:00.000-05:002017-04-25T17:08:33.380-05:00Teaching French to disadvantaged students is a job fit for a dreamer. I had just quit that library job when, literally, out of the blue, a former friend, now the foreign language supervisor, called and asked me if I would be willing to take a French-teaching job at a local high school. It's a disadvantaged school, meaning failing school with 80% of the population fitting the poverty levels most of these schools maintain.<br />
<br />
A couple of years ago when I was teaching gifted students at a local middle school, our principal had the faculty read this book about poverty--sorry, I don't remember the title, but I well remember the content. The average adult who grew up in poverty has the same vocabulary as a privileged child of age five from a white family. That is shocking! <br />
<br />
The French II classes were required to have a certified teacher in situ before credit could be given to the students taking the class. What I found in these four classes were two kinds of students: those who cared about actually learning the language and those just getting that grade. Because a certified teacher had not been found for these classes, the principal scheduled students into an internet class called Duo Lingo, an elementary level French class. Their language skills were dubious.<br />
<br />
. . . . .<br />
I wrote the above several months ago. In between I ran the gamut of emotions: hating this job, loving this job, stressed out beyond words, tired constantly, sleepless, yet still willing to stay the course. I don't know if it is black teenagers who can be loud and obnoxious or my old age that cannot tolerate loud noises--which was the worst problem? Then again, I think of the students I have come to love and all the hugs I get from even the most belligerent ones.<br />
<br />
What I have come to learn is how real black students are. And the awesomeness of the differences in skin color, and hair texture, and body shapes, and facial features. I stand in the doorway, between classes, watching the multitudes pass. And I marvel at their beauty and their plainness.<br />
<br />
Then there is the humor. One day I was talking to a young man, who out of the blue, said, "Ms P, why do you have such thin lips?" Oh my goodness, that was an eye-opener! I have thin lips!!<br />
<br />
Today another jeune homme (young man) told me he was going to start dating only white girls. Why, I asked him, He said black girls are so touchy--if you say anything to them, they will explode on you." In other words, black girls don't take stuff off of black males.<br />
<br />
Another student asked me how I could prove I wasn't racist. I answered simply: "I teach here." (Here is a predominately black school deemed unacceptable.) This year, though, we got a new principal, a man I hold in high esteem. He has worked so hard to turn the school around. During a testing session when part of the senior class was in the auditorium, he called the seniors out into the foyer and asked them why they hadn't signed up for college testing. He is determined to make them into successful human beings.<br />
<br />
I see that writing this down has cleared my head of the rough day I had. I can go home now, grab my fishing pole and fish awhile. Then it's back to grading papers and making out tests, and more and more. A teacher's work is never done--until the last day of school!!<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-50723207015872328882016-10-02T22:21:00.002-05:002016-10-02T22:21:45.725-05:00The ethics of accepting gifts <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One of the training aspects of my recent library job was viewing a very dull video about ethics. It was created by some branch of the state of Louisiana and was required viewing by all state employees. It presented unclear examples of what could be accepted and not accepted. One thing I remember is that one could accept a gift of food only if one ate it in the presence of the giver.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">As for the library an employee could accept nothing, not one thing, not even a single dime. I had been working at the library for two and one half months when a situation arose which nearly cost me my job. The branch where I worked is downtown with downtown parking woes. I had three choices for parking: six blocks in a free lot and walk to the library, in an expensive lot, or on the street next to the library with a feed-the-meter syndrome. One day I neglected to bring enough change for the meter and was asking to borrow from fellow employees (a fact that spoke little of my responsibility to be prepared). A patron overheard me and placed some quarters on the counter. I took one. Although it was not anyone's duty to touch me on the shoulder to say no or advise me not to take it, I would have done so in their place. Anyway, I told my supervisor what I had done. She had an apoplectic fit. I volunteered to quit, but she ignored me and continued to chew me out, and said I would be written up in no uncertain terms. I had already been written up for something else. She asked if I had ethics training as a teacher. I said yes, but we were allowed to accept gifts. She didn't believe me. I have since researched ethical training for teachers. Yes, teachers are allowed to accept gifts under $25. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I returned to my desk and restrained myself. The supervisor said things that totally surprised me. She was displeased, blah, blah, blah. The desire to get up and go home was overpowering, but I stayed. I quit three days later and by some miracle found a teaching job in a high school where I know the rules.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Just a last note. I worked closing at the library one night a week. The doors closed at 7 pm. All library workers were out by 7:05 pm. The first time that happened I didn't understand what was going on. Does a teacher leave the building five minutes after the last bell? Ha! And I had to sign in exactly on time and sign out exactly on time. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-48322677138159665192016-10-02T05:59:00.000-05:002016-10-02T05:59:38.796-05:00Working at the library,<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I always wanted to be a public librarian. A few years back I worked a second job in the evenings at my local branch library. That lasted three months. I had to quit because I could not follow the supervisor's rules. When I came on at 4 pm everyone in my department had their places at the counter with a computer. I had nowhere to go and had to stand behind them in case they all became busy simultaneously and I could step in and help a patron. Well, my mother taught us not to be idle. "If you don't have something to do, find something." So I did. One of our tasks was to "read the shelves," that is, check for alphabetical misplacements. I not only read my section, but other staffers' shelves as well. Eventually, the supervisor would send someone to get me, chew me out for deserting my post, and tell me to stay put. Yes, I know I was wrong. Following orders was part of the job.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">On the other hand, I had problems with another staffer, a young man who was very bitter. He could not get a teaching position although he had a degree in education. I can probably say why: he looked like a serial killer. He exuded such bad vibes. The thing is, he was highly resentful of me because I made more money than he did. The fact that I had library certification and he didn't did not matter at all to him. One night he set me up to look incompetent. Because he was the supervisor's favorite, she believed him and would not even entertain the idea of hearing my version.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I quit after three months. Ten years later when I couldn't get a job teaching (I'm old), I tried the library again. I wish I hadn't. Now I know that I am not librarian material. I don't like the job. Basically, a librarian is a servant. There is no working with books. It's entering data, constantly walking the aisles to make sure every book is in place and no trash is stuffed in cubby holes. It's picking up after patrons.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And the issue of favoritism just smacks one in the face. For the first couple of weeks, each of the staff showed me how to maintain each of their station posts.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Then that was it. Go away, they more or less told me. Wha-a-a-? I would say, like a minion. Could I take six months of this? And the answer was no, I could not, so I quit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I already had a new job lined up--subbing in this new school near my house. I couldn't get a teaching position there, but maybe as a sub. Today was my first day. What horror show did I get into? The kids were out of control. I called security time after time and all they did was get them quiet, then leave. I simply could not do it. And so, the school never called me again.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I began a new search and out of the blue, a friend from the past, now the foreign language supervisor called and asked me to teach French. So I am. Finally, a full time job. Now my goal is to get debt free before time is up and I am out of work again. (A retired teacher is terminated at the end of each school year and a need must exist in certain fields before she can be hired again. Foreign language is always the case.) </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I am really looking forward to this new job!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I</span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-88756063163962268022016-09-25T12:26:00.002-05:002016-09-25T12:26:54.352-05:00The Donald<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dear Donald:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bless you. You came out of your chrysalis, a painful experience, I'm sure. Twisting and shouting and acting odd and strange. But now, what a glorious creature you've become--a first rate candidate for POTUS. Bless Kelly Ann. I surmise she is responsible for the Better a </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">nd Improved Trump.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am pleased, well pleased, with the current Trump. God speed with the debate.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-3763157714180957132016-06-21T08:45:00.002-05:002016-06-30T20:08:12.314-05:00Dear Donald<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Dear Donald:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What are we to do with you? You were a parody to begin with. Now, good grief, you have made yourself a parody of your own parody! Frankly, Donald, I am embarrassed by you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You began as someone riding out of the plains, your banners raised high. Oh, we were counting on you, hoping you were the savior of our country, ruined and degraded by the One in Office, the One we fear because of his devious plans. Oh, Donald, we cried in the darkness, do come and save us! You were majestic early on in your wild cries and challenges and bizarre behavior.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now that behavior has become a huge, no, a gigantic obsurdity. What is wrong with you? After one of your latest rants, Paul Ryan spoke against your comments. My gosh, he sounded so reasonable after you. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Yikes, Donald, hire a new strategist who can guide you. And, Donald, listen to him!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Wish I could be more positive, but you don't give much to work with. Good luck. People really do wish they could back you with more enthusiasm. Please, change your behavior!!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sincerely,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">An embarrassed follower</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-54210327651825576262016-05-03T10:09:00.002-05:002016-05-03T10:09:59.493-05:00Hidden human horrorNote: This blog was taken from a sister blog of mine. I want it to get more exposure.... It was originated in 2009.<br />
<br />
Warning: This post bleeds...<br />
<br />
What is a mother?<br />
<br />
"You fat f....er!" Words of love to her tween daughter, oh so cold, so reprehensible, so scathing of human value, her own, her daughter's. She's just out of jail, this one, this mother. She slithers back into the domicile--can it be so wilfully called a home?--and spits her poison, first in one corner, then another, on one child, then another. How many of these f....ers, do I have? Just don't hang on me. I need air to breathe. I need a little fun after three months of cooped up hell.<br />
I'll tell you one damn thing, you hag, I am someone in jail. They know my name. They know who I am. They like me in jail. You b....ing hag, you m.....-f...... You call yourself a mother? You can die right now. Who would care? All my little f....ers and me--we hate you. Ask any of 'em. They would slit your throat in a second. That's what I'm teaching my chilren--how to cope, how to survive. You selfish b----! Where the f... is my child support money? Give me my child support!!I need some things. Gotta get a pedicure and manicure, get my f...ing hair cut. Gotta take a long bath, get out of these f----ing clothes.<br />
If that f----ing G--- calls, tell him to F--- off! He's been shackin with that f---ing b---- the whole time I was in jail! He better not be tellin' my f----ing kids they have a new mother. Hey, baby, bring your f----ing mama a glass of water. I need to get rid of this headache.<br />
<br />
In horror they watch her slip to the floor, water glass crashing, the two-year old clinging to her legs, gasping, Mamamamamamamamama! The oldest child, the 11-year-old must stand there and drink in her own horror. He mother used her to commit suicide. Used her like nothing, as if she were some perverse stranger on some perverse island caught in some perverse drama.<br />
<br />
Call 9-1-1, the girl gags on her own horror!<br />
<br />
Leave her. We're not calling anyone.<br />
<br />
At just the opportune moment, the fallen lump, the wasted wreck of breath, the useless container of self-parody, self-pity, self-regard, self-importance opens her eyes. "Tell G---that I tried to kill myself. Tell him I can't live without him. Tell him to dump that B----. She's nothing! I'm the one he wants.<br />
<br />
The diahrrea begins dramatically. After all, it's the drama queen at the center. Her children were so excited to see her, despite her selfish cruelty, her sporadic indulgence toward them, her frequent explosive display of fat, vile words she spews all about them.<br />
<br />
Then she walks out, taking herself to the hospital. G--- will know how important he is to her. He must let her come back. He must.<br />
<br />
____<br />
What are the options for this woman who has gone so far astray? Government hand-outs? To get them, she must take her children. How is this fair and just? Children must be punished to have this kind of "mother"? Whose justice is this? They have a home with the grandparents, although it is not very loving, but it's clean. There's food and clean clothes. There's room. Reduce these children to a one-room apartment just so this wanton can get hand-outs? Why? By whose authority?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-75935661122625460432016-04-25T07:17:00.000-05:002016-04-25T07:17:06.090-05:00Wow, a good day!<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px;">
Finally, I sold stuff. Besides the thrill of having people buy what was made with love, thought, and creativity, meeting new people and seeing old friends is a real bonus for participating as a vendor at Bossier Farmers Market. I love this venue!</div>
<div style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.32px; margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
One customer bought several items and in the course of conversation I discovered her two children were former library students when I was librarian at a private Catholic school, When I looked at those faces, I was transporte<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">d back in time. The son was one of my favorite students. The mom and I chatted quite a while about the school</span></div>
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<span class="text_exposed_show" style="display: inline;">Another customer made a request for a particular quilt and laid down money so I would make one. I truly enjoyed meeting him and his wife and son. Go Raiders!</span></div>
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One of my neighbor vendors gave me ice cold water--I felt dehydrated. It was really hot out there, even under a tent.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px;">
Speaking of tents--if I didn't have good vendor neighbors I couldn't put up my little tent. Someone helps me put up and take down. Every week I am reminded of this Tennessee Williams line: "Oh for the kindness of strangers" (who are becoming my friends).</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
Lastly, the husband of one of my employee/friends at a local fabric shop came by to meet me. He loves his wife. I found him endearing. I didn't know that she is from the Ukraine (she speaks English really well which she studied all her life) and that they met on an online dating service!</div>
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<span style="line-height: 1.38;">No, here's the last comment: the CEO of this farmers market, understands how to promote his website and his market. Check out what he does on Bossier Farmers Market</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 6px; margin-top: 6px;">
<span style="line-height: 1.38;">.<a href="http://bossiercityfarmersmarket.com/">bossiercityfarmersmarket.com</a></span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-86624841754027112222016-03-31T07:43:00.002-05:002016-04-12T06:38:58.377-05:00Bossier Farmers Market<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've found a new market for my crafts--Bossier Farmers Market and it opens in two days--Saturday, April 2, 9-2 pm, at Pierre Bossier Mall. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Truly, I am excited and look forward to trying this new venue! Here are some photos of what I have to sell</span><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-qECJp137Zj4/Vv0Z1GhPPBI/AAAAAAAAAy8/gbMJCNM7ao4d28ubsjz-te0jXUHF3ZPHQ/s1600/1407972269670.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; font-family: verdana, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"> </a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-11898197978682763272016-03-10T09:59:00.002-06:002016-03-10T10:20:30.503-06:00White privilege<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">According to a recent, brief news segment on Fox Network, "white privilege" refers to those doors opened to an elite group of Americans: white males. Any woman can explain it. Any white male, except the poorest and most uneducated group, knows it intuitively. There's no need to explain it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"White privilege." However, allow me to attempt an explanation. On the final episode of "American Crime" on ABC, a leader in a well-respected business was explaining to Regina King's character why "they" were transferring her. She had used the term "white trash" in a personal email written on the business network. The use of the term was a "hate crime." She struggled to explain to him why her term meant little as a hate crime--to her its use was a way of negating hate terms used against her race. Oh? I failed to mention she is black and the man is "white privilege." There is no way he could understand, she tried to explain--and, because he could not, he kept the transfer in place. She had no choice.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here's another way to explain "white privilege." February means Black History Month in the nation's schools. I dreaded the assembly every February. It meant white tempers would flare. "Why do they get a month dedicated to them ?" My answer should have shut their mouths but, of course, did not. "Look at your history books," I would say. "Whose pictures dominate the pages?" Their comeback: "That's because we do things. They don't" (with some negative comments thrown in). This occurrence aptly explains King's comment. If you're not us, you cannot truly understand us.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Back to Fox and "white privilege." This "establishment" part of the Republican party is scrambling to find a way to eliminate the threat to their power-Donald Trump. Why isn't he establishment with his billions? He's white, of course, but he isn't part of their power elite and that's precisely what terrifies them. What's an elite without power? And how do you control an elite if he is not 100%? You don't have power over him.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-36987877611805818402016-02-28T22:33:00.000-06:002016-04-21T06:48:35.048-05:00Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-44397967897900013092016-02-25T09:17:00.000-06:002016-04-21T06:47:33.513-05:00Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-29809398538719440662016-02-10T09:51:00.000-06:002016-02-10T09:51:45.641-06:00What Is Fishing? A Winter Report<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">This is an update to my fishing reports over the summer and fall. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Bottom line: Fish don't bite during cold weather, at least not in bayous, more specifically, the bayou behind my house. Not a nibble all winter. Not in blowing cold winds. Not during the rain. Not on overcast days. Not on sunny days. Not even during warm weather kind of days (we have those in Louisiana).</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">However the change-over is coming. It is, after all, February. If Phil sees his shadow, we have more winter. If not, spring is not far behind (or vice-versa--I can never remember which is which for ol' Phil!) Anyway, a few days ago, I started getting little jumping nibbles, actually more hopping than jumping. The cork kind of hops. I've hooked him/her twice, but s/he lets go before surfacing. I thought at first it was a turtle, but turtles are more resolute. They grab a worm and don't let go until they get good and ready. I'll think I'm hung up, but eventually the cork is set free.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Oh, I am so eager for the fish to swim out of their dark lairs and come closer to shore for spring catching!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-75615695534100950622016-02-07T13:24:00.000-06:002016-02-10T09:34:35.222-06:00Super Bowl Memories<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Truly, is this really the 50th Super Bowl? Fact is, I remember the First Super Bowl! I don't remember who played--the Saints?--naw, just kidding--no, I don't remember--just a sec--Green Bay vs. Kansas City, 35-10.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I remember the Steelers with Terry Bradshaw as QB. Those were fantastical passing games. Some of those early games were won in the last seconds. More recent games were incredibly one-sided (and boring). Then there was the year that the Saints won the Super Bowl (vs Indianapolis Colts 31-17). There was delirium in New Orleans that night--in fact, all of Louisiana! Would love to see that happen again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's early afternoon. I'm just waiting for the game to start. I am supporting Peyton Manning's Broncos. Why? Just listen to this excellent reason: I love Peyton's commercial: Hmmm hmmm hmmmhmmmm! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: verdana, sans-serif;">Addendum: I want to share how I and the first ex watched that first Super Bowl. We were poor: he was still in college and I made a young teacher's salary back in the 70's ($4,990--yes, can you believe it? ). So, we were poor. We had two television sets: one for the picture, one for the sound. Yes, we were poor.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Post note: Well, the Broncos did it with Peyton scoring the last two points with a pass into end zone for the 2-point conversion. Final score: Denver 24 and Carolina 10. Whew, it was close for a while. Note the low score for a Super Bowl game. Both defense teams really worked it with various sacks, fumbles, and turnovers. However, the Broncos prevailed. I'm not gloating--my sister was supporting the Patriots. Yet! I'm so glad for Peyton!!</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-66146588703790660172016-01-31T11:18:00.000-06:002016-02-08T15:08:44.846-06:00The mighty commorant<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The first January I was in this house, one Sunday morning I heard this awful sound outside. I went out back and there, in my cypress tree and in the neighbor's pecan tree was a flock of these huge black birds with yellow beaks. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I called my brother and asked what they were. A veteran watcher of informative television programs about nature, he knew right away that comorants were visiting. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">They visit every year on their way to wherever they are going. They visit a week, then they're gone again. Yesterday I took pictures and counted their numbers: 31 in one tree and a dozen in my tree. They were leary of me, of course.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Oh yes, in addition to their distinctive sounds, they also do a display of their wings. Actually, they spread out their wings after being in the water in order to dry them. </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HVaxO_3A1wQ/Vq9sxPBiSHI/AAAAAAAAAyM/45_pwa2tuV8/s1600/Double-crested_Cormorant_v11-12-003_l.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HVaxO_3A1wQ/Vq9sxPBiSHI/AAAAAAAAAyM/45_pwa2tuV8/s1600/Double-crested_Cormorant_v11-12-003_l.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here's a link that shows their size and coloring and wing span. Look at the bottom and click on the audibles to hear their croakings.</span><br />
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<a href="https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/double-crested-cormorant">https://www.audubon.org/field-guide/bird/double-crested-cormorant</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Post Note: 2-8-16</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In recent conversations my brother informed me that commorants could swim as well as fly and that a flock of hundreds can decimate the fish in a body of water in no time. I already knew that they were a destroyer of salmon beds. Anyway, I told him that I had not seen them in the water at all. However, today, I did see six commorants come up out of the water (they were below the surface) and fly off. They probably ate our bayou fish. I'll know soon enough if they ate too many. </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-64955038471906834552016-01-26T09:25:00.000-06:002016-01-26T14:40:02.024-06:00The Art of Sewing<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">"Sewing" -- when you read that word, what comes to mind? What's your mental picture? The </span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">first one?</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Here's mine: My grandmother sitting at her old Singer with her foot against the treadle, working it to provide new clothes for my only doll. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I started sewing early, age eight or so, with micro lessons here and there from both my mother and grandmother. In Puritan days-- pre-America and afterward-- girls learned directly from their mothers and relatives, a pass-on skill both utilitarian and aesthetic: utilitarian in the production of the practical--clothes and house wares, aesthetic in the making of trousseau items kept pristine until the young wife carried them off with her other new household goods.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Sewing is a tradition and a very worthy one. As circumstances should find me, I am involved in this passing on of traditions. Because I took two years of home economics in high school and made a garment each year, I feel I learned all the basic techniques that have served me well over the years. But now, in retirement, I am seeking more. I have been making and selling all kinds of sewing at local craft events, but I want more skills. I want finesse. To that end, I am taking various sewing classes at this particular fabric and sewing machine store. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fabric Boutique is owned by Shirley Warren and is located in Bossier City, Louisiana, just across Red River from where I live. Two years ago I bought one of her machines but did not take it out of the box for a year. I was intimidated by it. I would sit and stare at it. Oh, sure, I could do the basics: plug it, turn it on, thread it (there's a guide on the machine), wind a bobbin, and run it. But all those buttons and knobs--nope, wouldn't touch them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Well, yesterday, Shirley assigned one of her teachers to show new owners beyond the basics. Yay! I learned so much! Then Carolynne (teacher) had us make a little make-up type bag, requiring the use of almost half of our feet. (A sewing foot is a specialized tool that aids, enhances, and celebrates the art of sewing.) So much fun and a nice project at the end!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, what is sewing? Dictionary.com defines sewing as: joining or attaching by stitches, making or repairing a garment, and enclosing or securing by stitches. Do you see where I'm going with this? Yes, this definition suggest that sewing is utilitarian. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Now let's look at the British Dictionary's more inclusive definition(s):</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">"To</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">join</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">decorate</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">(pieces</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">of</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">fabric,</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">etc)</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">by</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">means of </span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">a</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">thread</span> <span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">repeatedly</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">passed</span> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">through</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">with</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">a </span><span class="oneClick-link oneClick-available" style="box-sizing: border-box;">needle</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">or</span> <span class="oneClick-link" style="box-sizing: border-box;">similar implement."</span></span><span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"> </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #666666; font-family: "verdana" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 22px;"><b><br /></b></span>
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">This definition suggests the other use of sewing: "decorate" or the aesthetic. That's what I aim for--the aesthetic. The women who gather at this sewing establishment (Fabric Boutique in the northwest corner of Louisiana) are artisans, or working at becoming artisans. That includes me, novice though I am at the more delicate and intricate aspects of sewing. I am returning to the beginning to the first classes: Beginning Sewing, Beginning Quilting, Making a Tote, and so on. Each class is infused with those pass-on skills and artwork, the basic stitches, the crafted stitches, the artful stitches. Soon a class in Heirloom Sewing will be offered. That's what I mean.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have taken several classes now with Sherry, who does not mind that I move several steps past the real beginning quilters in the current class. She has given me numerous tips to improve my sewing and glad I am that she is so tolerant. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I just finished my 4-square quilt (It's called something else, but I can never remember what). Frankly, it is quite beautiful. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">There are other teachers. Phyllis, a polio survivor thus wheelchair-bound, yet fiercely independent, is an amazing sewer. Amazing! She demonstrates techniques and stitches, really an amazing array of artistry. My favorite class, so far, was hers in which we took a block of fabric and turned it into a work of art through stitchery. One day I will turn my finished piece into a purse.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Shirley, the owner, is also a teacher and a veritable task master. I have learned so many sewing secrets which I've seen worked into other teachers' classes. That's how the pass-on tradition works. From one to the other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Oh yes, the first Saturday of every month is the Bernina Club (half the shop is dedicated to those wonderful Berninas). What I love about this sewing club is the Show-and-Tell activity. Each person can show what she made recently. I LOVE this aspect because I love to show my own work. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One more thing about this fabric store. Shirley has created a work space, a haven, a place to ponder and create, a place of work and creativity and beauty, and for some, a refuge. There is no other place like it in our two cities. The various other fabric stores in the area offer fabric and crafting products, but not classes, not this passing down of a skill and art form.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Note: the shop's web address:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.fabricboutiquebc.com/">http://www.fabricboutiquebc.com/</a></span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-69347332395387801202015-12-31T18:05:00.003-06:002015-12-31T23:10:54.860-06:00New Year's Resolutions<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have an attitude problem, one I've had a couple of years. I'm ageing, in fact, have been ageing for a number of years now. I find it very difficult, so I beat people to making comments about it. I go on the defensive. "Come on," I'll say to younger people, "I'm an old lady, blah, blah, blah...."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I have come to a crossroads: I can continue down this "I'm so old" road or take the road less traveled: I can keep alive and mentally oiled and conditioned to accept age and make it a calling card. I'm going positive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There are, of course, problems in going positive. I have a mother who is so very critical. "I tell the truth," she says, like an Old Testament prophet anointed to do just such, as they did back in the day. Her "truth" to me is that I am losing my brain, meaning it is declining. She says it is noticeable. I say poppycock! After I stopped teaching English, my brain did start to decline. You know, if you don't use it, you lose it. Now that IS something I hold true. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Years ago, I broke my foot and could not walk on it one whit and used a crutch as a substitute for that leg. After several weeks on that crutch, my good leg developed muscles and the bad leg withered to almost half its size. Again, a point to make: After seven years of not teaching, I went back into the classroom as a French teacher. Voila! Talk about using one's brain! </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #212121; font-size: 16px; line-height: 24px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">J'ai enseignie beaucoup d'étudiants . Nous avons mangé du pain et bu du café en classe . Nous avons visité Natchitoches , la première ville de Louisiane. Mes élèves étaient heureux d'y aller. (I taught many students. We ate bread and drank coffee in class. We visited Natchitoches, the first city in Louisiana. My students were happy to go there.)</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The newest brain research indicates that memory is not static, that it changes with experiences which greatly impact how the brain develops or declines. In other words sitting in that rocking chair can rot the brain, whereas taking up fishing or making quilts enhance the brain because of the new-ness and </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">the challenges </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">of the experiences. Learning technology would also be an experience-enhancing challenge! </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Here is a link to what researchers have discovered about the brain and how to evaluate brain research sites:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<a href="http://patwolfe.com/2011/09/brain-research-and-education-fad-or-foundation/">http://patwolfe.com/2011/09/brain-research-and-education-fad-or-foundation/</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Please read further into this fascinating field.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, back to my resolution. It is based on the truths of three people.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Number one is my sister, who is an organizational wizard. She worked a number of years for a company and notably the manager whose job was to take businesses in trouble and teach them how to fix their problems. As his personal assistant, my sister also learned how to do what he did. I have been in such a spiraling decline (not brain), that I needed help in getting organized and climbing my way out. She has been my teacher and promoter and cheerleader.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Secondly, Joel Osteen is a television preacher, and, of course, a megachurch preacher. His sermons, criticized by some as "feel-good" sermons, have made a big impact on me. He is the champion of the power of positive thinking. Words have power, he declares, and he admonishes people to be wary of what words they allow into their brains. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Thirdly, I saw Jane Fonda on a late night show recently in which she promoted her newest movie, which is about youth and ageing. She is 74 and says she feels like a newbie. She felt old at 20 and 30, but now she has once again re-invented herself. Madonna does this, the wild and wooly Miley Cyrus does this. Staying the same old person you once were is ageing. I know many people like this who stay in a rut.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, my resolution is to face the future unafraid, to grasp opportunities, shoot, even make opportunities. Only the truly ageing person will sit down and turn into a potato. I'm striking out in new territory.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I'll let you know how it turns out in a few months....</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-117173829834602362015-12-31T03:31:00.000-06:002015-12-31T11:04:05.663-06:00New rant and praise: Neighbors<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My house is the second house from the end of a two-block street in a fairly established neighborhood, created in the 1970's. I bought this house after my divorce and have been here 13 years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The first buyer on the street was a major in the Air Force, an engineer. He chose the house on the end next to the local park. With no one there to contest him, he bought a huge chunk of what should be my back yard on the west side. He bragged that his land stretched from pole to pole (telephone poles, one at the edge of his property, the second ten feet into what should be my property. No one told me about this disgrace when I looked at the property. I assumed the line went straight down from the fence, not a 45 degree angle.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, the old man died a couple of years ago, and his son "gave" the house to his 19-year-old son. Yes, I know, a teenager, and his live-in girlfriend. However, those two, and including his mudding friends, have been wonderful neighbors. No one drinks or smokes (maybe one friend) or even curses. They don't play loud music even when they have cookouts and swimming parties. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Even at her young age, the girl/woman is a school photographer with a side business. I really like this slightly chunky blonde with the beautiful face. The dude is medium height, nice-looking, and has curly brown hair which is ALWAYS covered by a sideways cap from his collection of cap. I mean ALWAYS! However, he is one the most polite young men I've ever met!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So, what's the rant? Uh-oh, you missed it--his grandfather bought some of what should be my land. "His" property is shaped like a pie wedge, and mine is a lesser, reversed pie wedge, while all other properties up and down the street have straight boundaries. One day, Young Dude tells me that they plan to extend his fence to the bayou to encompass his land and prevent his dogs from roaming my land (to do business). Imagine a fence at the top of the flat section, then draw a diagonal line over onto my property. I told him that I would be blocked from getting my lawn mower down there. (I call my back yard Down Below because we have two levels, the street height, and the hill extending to the bayou which marks our northern borders.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Know what he said? "We'll work something out." I trust his word.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Note: I'm concerned that they've broken up. Her car has not been there in a month, her two big barking (and annoying) dogs are also absent. His friends no longer hang out there. Maybe someone is in the hospital. I don't know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So much for one set of neighbors. It's late and the other neighbor is such a piece of work that I need to have a clear head to write about her.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">To be continued...</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-75696413799960508832015-12-26T01:09:00.000-06:002015-12-26T12:50:00.489-06:00Politics 101<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who should be president? Do you "like" any of the Republican candidates? Hillary? Why and/or why not?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Right at the beginning, I'm going to declare my disdain for Hillary and leave it at that. What this blog is about, then, is my opinion of the Republicans.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Beginning with the first Republican debate, I have been impressed with all of them, both tiers. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So we do have really qualified men and women willing to tackle the office of president. Of course, they must have big egos and nerves of steel and backbones that won't break under the intense scrutiny they undergo on a daily basis.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">What I most like about these candidates is their high intelligence, a willing commitment to the ideals of the presidency, a knowledge of American history, and a litany of what can be done to restore the integrity of our national pride.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In "The Sound of Music," the nuns had this to say about Maria: "How do you solve a problem like Maria?" She was irrepressible, full of high energy, and committed to being free and following her own star. So, I say, is Donald Trump.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Do you remember bra burning (if you're of a certain age). Its point was to shift the pendulum from the extreme of the '50's with women in their place. "Burning bras" had the audacitty of swinging that pendulum from staidness to free-ness. Damn those bras. "Let it all hang out." And it did. And so does Donald Trump.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He's like a petulant child, uttering forth all his glib comments. However, they make us think. Is he speaking our minds? Are we allowed to say those things? Of course not, but here is a presidential candidate saying them. Political correctness had reached a point of silliness--no "Merry Christmas." It had to be "Happy Holiday" or "Happy Winter Solstice" or some such.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Truly the country was founded on religious freedom but in a bifurcated way. On the one hand, freedom was granted to those "like us," but not to those who practiced a variation of Protestantism. The word itself was a precursor to the rabbling of voices that finally grounded itself into the new country. If the country was founded on religious freedom, then the opposite, devil worship, or even the hint of it, almost destroyed communities. The witches of Salem threw out accusations, setting the path of future behavior. Does not the Donald make variant accusations like the girls of Salem, planting ideas of questionable behavior or differences.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Attacking Fiorina's looks, saying he will deny Muslims entrance into the country, promoting Putin makes me think the Donald is not a serious candidate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-34617084738225437342015-12-23T12:07:00.001-06:002015-12-29T08:32:10.272-06:00What is fishing? Ch. 8: Cheating....<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yes, cheating. I didn't think so at the time, but later had to admit that I probably cheated. What pointed me in that dire train of thought? I had had no luck catching anything for days. Someone, probably my mother, told me to buy catfish bait and throw it all around my part of the bayou. So I did. What stinky stuff!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Nothing happened for a couple of days. Then the barometric pressure changed: rain was on the way. What happened next was my messenger about the barometer: fish started biting as if they had not eaten in a good while. I would throw in my line and -bam!- my cork started bobbing, then running this way, then that way, then down! I had so much fun playing those fish.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I would think I had them, then whoosh--the line went limp. Over and over, finally victory and I pulled out a beautiful fish. I caught eight fish that day, mostly blue-gill bream, a couple of gorgeous sun perch, and surprise, surprise, a nice fat striped bass.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JklZEnE0ySo/VnrgT1TCk7I/AAAAAAAAAxs/zGbNd4dRCe8/s1600/blue%2Bgill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="123" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-JklZEnE0ySo/VnrgT1TCk7I/AAAAAAAAAxs/zGbNd4dRCe8/s200/blue%2Bgill.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7iP2YV1E6Ws/Vnrg7q-WURI/AAAAAAAAAx0/H6smlYzvkxs/s1600/striped%2Bbass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="108" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7iP2YV1E6Ws/Vnrg7q-WURI/AAAAAAAAAx0/H6smlYzvkxs/s200/striped%2Bbass.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It is that striped bass that caused me to think perhaps I had cheated. He swallowed that hook! Oh, how I hate that. I have my needle nose pliers but this hook was too deep to avoid injury. Ug, half his tongue came out with that hook.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I always imagine giants in the sky treating me as if I were a fish, with identical torment that I bestow upon fish--and even worms. When I tear those Canadian Night Crawlers in half, I imagine the screams that must rip through their bodies.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Anyway--the aggression with which the fish attacked my worms, the powerhouse way they tried to evade capture made me think that, maybe, just maybe, I had cheated by using the catfish bait.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"No, that's not cheating," my sister assured me. "Have you ever watched fishing competitions on television? They use every method known to man, woman, and beast, plus things the audience knows nothing about. So forget this cheating notion." So I did.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My day ended well into darkness. My happiness, I'm sure, lit up my surroundings. One last cast--and they were still biting. Wow...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Addendum: Click on the following clip to see just what monster hood a striped bass can grow into: (I think you need to cut and paste)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">https://www.google.com/search?q=striped+bass+fish&espv=2&biw=1242&bih=566&source=lnms&tbm </span><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-40868892427053125562015-10-20T21:43:00.001-05:002015-12-03T10:25:41.473-06:00What do you read?<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Addendum to this post:</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We live carefully or we live randomly. It may seem that I am looking for excuses for my reading habits, but I am not, or believe that. I just finished one of "those" books. A question that piqued my interest: If today is the day I die (no matter the age), will it be all right? Have I lived enough to say I've lived and be okay with dying? So I say: I've had an interesting life, considering all the "dry places." What would you say?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Blog begins below:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">You are what you eat. We know this is true, especially for diabetics. Is it also true that you are what you read? Or, that you are like those you hang out with, you know, birds of a feather? Or, that you become like those you live with?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Case in point: My sister was married to a man who was psychologically and abnormally stressed by things in sight in "his" house. Thus, nothing, not a thing, was kept on the kitchen counters. Everything had to be put out of sight, including coffee maker, canisters, etc., even his precious bourbon bottle. My sister did not grow up with an aversion to things in sight. Things used in everyday life were kept on the counters: coffee maker, canisters, toaster, and so on. So, one summer the family had gathered at my mother and step-father's place on the lake. It was time to cook and my sister, a take-charge kind of gal, was taking over (she's like that). Guess what she said? "Oh, good grief. Look at all this junk everywhere!" and she proceeded to remove everything from the counter tops! Indeed, she did! </span>So, <span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I try to remind her of this at every proper opportunity. BTW, these two are divorced but you're not surprised, are you?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">One more example: My brother, sister, and I grew up speaking proper grammar. However, this same brother married a girl who used poor grammar, not because she didn't know better, but because she thinks it's cool. Yes, of course, my brother sounds like her and has for years. This has always stressed me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">AS for reading: Is it true that one's reading choices reveal a person's character? Let's take me for example. I'm a retired English teacher, a life-long reader of all kinds of literature, and a collector of all kinds of books. So, what do I read?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Honestly, the books that make me happiest are the Jack Reacher books. Why? What psychological trait am I revealing by reading this series? Jack Reacher is a man retired from the military, not forced, before his regular retirement time. He's a man of high honor, even though he kills when necessity dictates. A conundrum? Not in a Reacher novel. William Faulkner used to put his plot lines on paper posted around his writing room. That way he kept up with his twisted plot lines. I think Childs must do something similar. His plots are painstakingly </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">detailed and reveal methodical thinking that goes on in Reacher's mind. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Another thing about Reacher: He wears the same clothes for several days and irons them by laying them out straight under his mattress. When I say mattress, I mean motel, not home, because Reacher does not have a home. He travels like the birds, going willy-nilly, and involving himself when a situation piques his sense of justice. The book is truly wishful thinking by the author. I guess such a character could exist, but not likely.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I like Reacher for many reasons, but the main one is that he is a bad-ass, not intentionally, not maliciously, but because circumstances dictate him to be. But first, he reveals his reluctance to be violent and his absolute dedication to being violent if necessary. Woe to those who dare to challenge him. As a teacher I was challenged too many times over the years and found myself in a position of non-action. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Addendum: Wow, did I really admit my true reading preference? But I do read other things. Currently, I'm reading Temple Mount by Keith Raffel. My sister and I live several states apart. We talk up to an hour daily. The other day she wanted to discuss the Temple Mount in Israel. I started googling and found this book on Amazon, so I ordered it and have read about 50 pages. I'll report later. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-45191396076039132962015-10-16T00:37:00.002-05:002015-11-09T21:35:30.526-06:00What is Fishing? Ch.7: The best time to fish<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Chapter 7</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I finally learned the secret for the best time to fish! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Last week I spent several days fishing and caught almost nothing! Yes, yes, of course, the throw-backs, the fingerlings, the ones who need to grow up. They always go back into their watery depths. But keepers? Only a couple. What's the deal, I repeatedly asked. Have I fished out all these fish along my part of the bayou? But how is that possible? There are no boundaries underwater, are there?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">About this time I decided to find a fishing magazine. I found <u>In-Fisherman</u>. Here is the blurb about this magazine:</span><br />
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<span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><i><strong style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;">"In-Fisherman Magazine</strong> is known mainly for the extensive information it provides on many different species of fish. In-Fisherman magazine also includes equipment reviews, fishing advice and secrets from professional fisherman, and information about popular and local fishing locations in the United States.</i></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><i>Readers of In-Fisherman magazine are treated to information about countless species of fish. The magazines writers provide information about bass, walleye, catfish, panfish, pike, muskie, trout, salmon, and many other species. Readers find out where they can catch these fish and what they will need to bring in order to be successful.</i></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><i>The equipment reviews contained in In-Fisherman are widely respected. Each issue reviews tons of lures and poles for those fishing in different locations or for different types of fish. Also included are reviews about accessories like rain gear, electronic equipment, and tackle bags. Some of the gear articles are strictly informative, like one titled The Fishing Line Evolution that chronicles changes that have been in motion since the 1970s.</i></span></div>
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<span style="margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><i>In-Fisherman magazine is known well for the fishing secrets and advice contained in each issue. Its expert writers go into detail about different fishing techniques and specific types of fishing that readers may not have tried before. One article talks about the equipment and know-how that is needed before one can go on a successful ice fishing trip. In-Fisherman is also known for articles like the one titled 10 Best Bass Fishing States in America that let readers know about the best places to fish."</i></span></div>
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The October/November issue was worthy reading cover to cover. I especially enjoyed the article about shore fishing (since, of course, what I do is shore fish). The author authenticates shore fishing by describing his largest catches--from shore. I can affirm his experience. I caught my three and one/half pound bass three feet from water's edge. Indeed, I did. I've seen two more times other huge bass fishing for their own meals right there at my feet! In fact, I hooked another large bass two feet from my feet, but it shed the hook when my reel caught and a slack happened in the line.I cannot describe the sheer enormity of watching a huge fish swish at your feet. Swish is not a powerful enough onomatopoeic word for what happens when a bass seeks his meal like that!</div>
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But I brought <u>In-Fisherman</u> to your attention because it answered my query about why I was not catching fish last week into this one. Toward the back was a Solunar Calendar. It tells me that next week will be horrible fishing, so I guess I will take the week off. Meanwhile, the rest of the week promises excellent fishing!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-1254711346494554992015-10-04T09:16:00.000-05:002015-11-09T21:36:01.633-06:00What is fishing? Ch. 6: Wildlife<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Chapter 6 Wildlife</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Fishing takes a person into the world of nature. It's up to the fisherman how</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">intent that experience will be. Personally, w</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">hat I find every time I go fishing is a host of creatures. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Imagine this: A couple has been fishing across the bayou from me for the last three afternoons. They come with all their gear, including a boom box. And they keep it turned on, though not loud. My question is: Why? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I like to listen to all the surrounding sounds: all kinds of birds from robins to woodpeckers to erratically chatty little wrens. The loudest is the blue heron, yes, a blue heron, a gigantic bird. Every time I disturb him(her?), he flies off, squawking, no, bellowing his displeasure, that I had interrupted his feeding time. However, this afternoon, we scared each other. I took my rod, loaded up worm, got in my favorite spot, then glanced six feet over, and wow! That blue heron was standing there when he suddenly saw me and gasped and flew away. Mutual admiration, maybe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Daily, along the bayou's edge, close to the point that water meets land, I find some kind of animal tracks. Could be a cat's because I've seen a cat wander the banks, but the paw prints are too large for Boo (neighbor's cat, Boo short for Beauregard). Could be beaver tracks, or maybe possum, or raccoon, --I've seen all these animals at one time or another.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">A squirrel currently has a nest in the majestic cypress and enjoys throwing down the cypress balls that grow in the tree. Same is true for the huge pecan tree which half hangs over my property. Ha!</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Did I mention snakes and turtles and mosquitos? I guess all beautiful things have their drawbacks. I've watched a snake slither just under water's surface. One even surfaced his freaky little face and eyeballed me. I guess snakes are curious, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The most marvelous yet perilous things I've seen on this bayou happened twice this week. Right in front of my eyes, three feet from me, a large-mouth bass, a large one, leaped right up out of that water intending to catch his breakfast then and there. However, breaking to the right was a tiny silver fish. I froze in disbelief. Then again the next day further down the bank, another? the same? bass did the same leap.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">It's just awesome ("awe"--def.<span style="color: #222222; font-size: x-small;"><span style="background-color: white; line-height: 15.6px;"> </span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; line-height: 15.6px;">extremely impressive or daunting; inspiring great admiration, apprehension, or fear)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; line-height: 15.6px;"> to see such things, and to know that someone created all this beauty in its magnificence and fear.)</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif; line-height: 15.6px;"><br /></span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-90075550712292311232015-09-30T23:37:00.001-05:002015-12-27T10:13:25.258-06:00What is Fishing, Ch. 5: When do fish bite?<br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Chapter 5</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">So, the most important question in a blog about fishing is this: When do fish bite? </span><br />
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<a href="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR7l-UP8GDOJpL1zm-DXr9OjkZcObrfwNI0I4V3CJMdjC4KPHZ9NQ" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Image result for images fish biting" border="0" height="200" src="https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcR7l-UP8GDOJpL1zm-DXr9OjkZcObrfwNI0I4V3CJMdjC4KPHZ9NQ" width="192" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Let me be scientific: I have fished early morning, mid-morning, noon, mid-afternoon, and late afternoon leading into evening. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have fished during blazing hot days, windy days, full moon times, misting days, and early mornings with a bit of chill in the air.</span><br />
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On some early mornings I caught fish; others, not. The same with other times and conditions. Frankly, I could not determine when they would bite and when they wouldn't</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Bottom line, fish bite when they dang-well want to.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Other than that, it's a mystery to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Addendum: I must change the vote tally. I HAVE found a most propituous time to fish: when a barometric change is imminent. They also tend to bite when light rain is falling. I learned these things in the interlude between now (12/27) and the date of this blog (9/30). Fall? Weather changes? Natural events?</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-53096928116785322662015-09-29T11:53:00.000-05:002015-10-03T10:28:42.078-05:00Another souvenir from world travels<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TniAPVoxCQ8/VgdITjxxEzI/AAAAAAAAAv8/G2ynOJeYj6Y/s1600/irelandcats.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-TniAPVoxCQ8/VgdITjxxEzI/AAAAAAAAAv8/G2ynOJeYj6Y/s200/irelandcats.JPG" width="130" /></a><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Wherever I go, I find ethnic treasures to take home and display, </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">not for others, but for myself. This is a tea towel I found in a linen shop </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">in Ireland, Dublin to be exact.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I didn't want to use it as a tea towel and decided</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">to frame and hang it. If it pleases you, please study the towel. (Click on the picture for a larger version.) There is one cat turning his head toward the viewer and having the smuggest look on his face. Then notice the cat sitting next to him and her baby! </span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7264178020521120855.post-49399754684514723602015-09-28T15:10:00.002-05:002015-11-09T21:37:04.448-06:00What is fishing? Ch. 4: What's underneath?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.woodfordfishinglake.com/fish/species-bluegill-fish.jpg" height="114" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="200" /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><br />Chapter 4: What's in a Bayou?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I've been fishing along the bayou at the end of my property for four months now. I've lived here almost sixteen years. Why did I wait so long? My 94-year-old mother quit fishing and abandoned her several rods. When my brother, nephew, and I went fishing, he fixed me up with one of those rods. I fell in love with it--it's a lefty. I'm comfortable using a lefty. After we fished, the rod became mine!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">And how I've used it!! I fish several time</span><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">s daily: early morning, mid-morning, early afternoon, late afternoon, late day. How can I do this? I'll be doing something and, suddenly, I have to grab my worms and rod and head on down. I call it Down-Below. Remember, the area from deck to bayou is all downhill. (Yes, I do my own mowing--what a job, mowing on a hill!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://www.miseagrant.umich.edu/wp-content/blogs.dir/1/files/smallmouth-bass/smallmouth-bass-outline-sm.jpg" height="212" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">What's a blog about fishing if I don't talk about what I actually catch? Frankly, it is amazing the variety of fish in this bayou! I've caught three kinds of bass: big-mouth, small-mouth, and striped. How do I know this? Google images. My sister insists that striped bass don't live this far south, but they do. This bayou was probably stocked.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img src="http://api.ning.com/files/u3fcJmJ3QG8M*7fMA4Xz2VSFvSEzpGXRR0TH3DNhpCttnNG2Sy37ya*1r0xHxvRjNOQuZlxuz-0Ge4YPk-h6xHkHi6SGNUpo/2316lmouthbass.jpg" height="166" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /></td></tr>
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<a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7264178020521120855" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7264178020521120855" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=7264178020521120855" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">The big excitement was catching a three and one-half pound large-mouth bass! I freaked out. Wow, what a battle--he swam this way, that way, pulled down, ran twisty curves, and gave me a great powerful run. However, I really regretted ending his life. He was so magnificent!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img alt="Image result for sun perch" src="https://encrypted-tbn0.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTr4kWj5qZR71GK1HvSKxlQTLmH-chmcJPN2PZfy_zwcmfmeUclMA" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">sun perch</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">Mostly, I catch sun perch--from ridiculously small to large like the bass. I have caught the occasional blue-gill bream and even two catfish. I return twice as many as I catch to their watery homes for another day.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">However </span>t<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">he most unusual catch was a four-inch-diameter turtle. </span> <br />
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<span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;">I have learned to catch the tiniest fish. And I do mean tiny--I call them fingerlings. Three big-mouths--fingerlings. But I think of these small babies as practice because the babies have the same moves as their grown-up counterparts. Just this morning I caught two more fingerling big-mouth bass--I would have claimed they were larger--until they passed that magical line between water world excitement and the reality of the actual (you know, above water and in the air). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "trebuchet ms" , sans-serif;">(When I learn how to convert photos from camera to laptop, I will include my actual photos of these</span> fish)Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05541536714503871732noreply@blogger.com0