Hubby, who is not remotely averse to embracing new technology, (although he doesn’t have to buy the latest toys as they come onto the market) watches webinars all the time. I have dialed into a few on audio, but a few minutes ago, I had my first experience with a computer and video link-up. Best Publishing who published Mystery of the Last Olympian: Titanic’s Tragic Sister Britannic (http://amzn.to/2c1iKJl) has scheduled Richie Kohler for a webinar, A Life Underwater, for Dec 7th. And yes, if you picked up quickly that Dec 7th is Pearl Harbor Day, and you know it was a WWII U-boat that thrust Richie into an international spotlight, it is ironic, although it was also a coincidence.

Anyway, as co-author, I will play a support role during the webinar and that means I have to be on the computer helping monitor the Chat part where people can type in questions. So we just ran a test and it was a pretty intriguing process. At first, I was only on audio as it was explained to me that no, you have to sign in to the computer which requires the first step of installing the program. (This is the kind of thing that makes me nervous.) That part went smoothly enough and there it all was, appearing on my screen. Richie in the upper right corner, the great photo array he selected on the main part of the screen and the little Chat box in the lower right corner. There are a variety of other buttons I’m concerned about touching, but I did manage to stay on the call without crashing the computer. We worked through a number of ideas as well as the physical procedures, but I will do everything in my power to make sure Hubby is here the evening we go live. I do not want to face this by myself. Who knows, there may be more webinars in my future.

Okay, this is not a rant, although it is an expression of frustration. I would enjoy leisure cycling, but it’s not something I can manage with my knees. I’ve never had the yearning for a motorcycle, although I appreciate the passion for those who do (especially after watching the 3-part Harley and Davidson  show). The billboards and other urgings to “Share the Road” with cyclists and motorcycles is something I am conscious of and try to faithfully adhere to. With that said, when it comes to motorcycles weaving in and out of traffic, cutting close to bumpers and doors doesn’t quite seem to be in that same spirit.

On the bicycle front – in zipping through stops signs and red lights I guess the idea is, yes, you do have time to make it through. The idea also seems to be, however, that if no one is coming, the light/stop sign doesn’t count. It is the  sidewalk aspect that disturbs me the most though. I walk 3-5 days a week depending on what other exercise I mix in. I also use trekking poles as I think I’ve posted about before. When I am walking, the odds are I won’t hear a bicycle approaching. Around 70% of the time, I get no warning until the bike is passing me. Okay, I get the cyclist can see me, and I suppose the concept is, they can tell if I am perhaps going to take a step over, or am swinging the poles and can swerve to avoid me. That, however, leaves out the simple fact that  a bike whizzing past me is startling. I don’t understand why it is so difficult to give a simple warning as the minority does. “Passing your left”, “Coming past,” “Bike behind you”, the ding of a bell – any of these work. And I am good about thanking a cyclist for the warning, hoping perhaps they will spread the word among others.

In having a delightful “Girlfriend” lunch today, the subject of several military things came up. We’re having Wings Over Homestead, this amazing air show at Homestead Air Reserve Base for the first time in four years. (Sat & Sun 4-5 Nov). The Thunderbirds have come  in as have other visiting aircraft and there will be all kinds of different displays and demonstrations. I wound up discussing military transport and logistics, talking about how one designs tanks, (that had to do with how many tanks can fit onto a C-5 airplane), water production capability, the extent of the Army’s watercraft fleet, etc., We ranged among a lot of other topics as well – from riding motorcycles to choosing between independent and assisted living. Hey, we never quite know what all we’ll cover when we get started.

Anyway, it brought to mind a meeting last week about a potential project and someone asked my why I haven’t written a book about my military experience. One particular long segment of my career, 1974-1992, saw a tremendous shift in the Army as to how women were treated and policy changes. By virtue of timing, I was a part of events that contributed to some of these changes. So many of them though seem like they should have obviously been changed and it’s difficult for people to realize it “hadn’t always been that way”. Plus, quite frankly, there are certain events that occurred that even with not providing names, it would be really easy to identify whom I would be talking about and I’m not prepared to do that yet. Not that it’s anything scandalous, but it is highly personal. I’ll probably be ready in another ten or fifteen years because at some point I do want my son and more importantly our granddaughter to know about this aspect of my life.

I’ve known  a few people who choose Halloween as their favorite holiday. One neighbor always converted their garage into a haunted house and seemed to come up with a few new ideas each year. They were well past having their own kids at home and the husband just took great pleasure in planning and putting it together. A few female friends have been the incredibly “crafty” type who either make the great costumes or who put together a party with the perfect decorations and clever food. Since son was actually due on Halloween and came a few days early on Oct 25th, for a long time, his parties tended to be Halloween-themed. My “craftiness”, however, was pretty much confined to picking out an appropriate cake to buy. The one extra thing I did when he was young was buy three or four different costumes in the after-Halloween sales and he would play whatever characters they were until the costumes wore out.

Our Halloween decorations for the house aren’t extensive, but we’ve added a few things over the years with mostly a skeleton focus. A couple are scary and there’s a whimsical hanger one for the door. I do always use a witch’s cauldron or jack-o-lantern container for the candy. We generally give out 6-7 large bags worth of candy as there are lots of kids around and I actually have a smaller container with non-chocolate, non-nut for the handful who identify as needing that. (Yes, Hubby rolls his eyes a bit at the gesture.) Anyway, we’re breaking with tradition this year because the Seminole Theater is having the WLRN Radio Theater show of Dracula (adapted for radio by Orson Wells). We are really enjoying that series and I wasn’t sure which way Hubby wanted to go. Turns out he figures the kids do get plenty of candy and they probably won’t have the same production next year. Hmm, I wonder if the theater staff will be in costume?

It’s funny how certain memories come to the forefront. In having breakfast with my dear friend this morning, a conversation worked its way around to dealing with string beans. That led to recalling summers at home of shelling beans and peas for fresh produce and of course putting up many quarts in the freezer. On a larger scale though than the garden Daddy always had were the weeks we kids spent on our paternal grandparents’ farm in Arkansas. I think it was a two-week stretch each year, but could have been longer. As I believe I’ve mentioned in a previous post, none of the four boys wanted the family farm and so Papaw leased out most of his land after they all left home. He maintained a couple of pastures for the cows and a large garden. There was the pig pen, the chicken coop, and smokehouse as well. He even had his own small forge for doing basic repairs and the horse he used for the garden and driving the handful of grazing cows out in the morning and back in the afternoon to the appropriate pasture. The two or three dairy cows required twice a day milking as they do. Papaw took care of all the livestock except the chickens which were Mamaw’s domain. When we were old enough to be entrusted, we would gather eggs for her. So, they had fresh milk, fresh cream, and she made their own butter. The garden, once Papaw plowed and planted it, was also her domain in addition to all the household chores and cooking. There was always work to be done and for the most part, we kids enjoyed helping out during our short visits.

A lot of canning still took place since the farm had been established well before individual families had freezers. And items like pickles and preserves were better suited to canning anyway. What a process that was with sterilizing the jars, etc., in the summer in Arkansas with no air conditioning. (Not that anyone had A.C. in those days).  I have to agree with my sister in believing Mamaw made some of the best pickles in the world. I don’t know if she used a recipe or if she did, if it was passed down. I know neither of us have it. Those are too often the things you don’t think about until it’s too late.