CALL US OLD-FASHIONED

In the news today I watched an interview with high-buck couples lamenting that the arrival of hard times has made it impossible for them to proceed with a planned, expensive divorce. I say it's best to try to choose your partner more carefully than you would when entering a business merger. Joys are multiplied and sorrows half when shared with someone you love and have loved for a long time.
Relative to that, I share this mini-poem written for my own partner after 48 years of marriage; it could be our anthem:

COMMUNITY PROPERTY

Prenuptual agreements
and separate attorneys
are a modern must;
To mark what's hers,
record what's his,
is only just.
Invasion of
each other's space
is soundly cussed,
And separate person-ness
a virtue of
the upper-crust.
No blend of souls
and psyches--
that's a bust!
But we were born
too soon to
understand that fuss,
For You are You
and I am I
and we are Us,
And everything we have
belongs to Us;
including Us.
---rmm

A WORD ABOUT ERRORS

And just to remind you, I've done so much proof-reading and correcting in my newspaper days, you can't expect to receive these blogs in anything but raw form... Like a builder who builds all day cant be expected to build things at home... Like a typist who types all day can't be expected to type letters at home... Like a lawyer who "laws" all day can't be expected to draw up a deed or a will for his family...
I blog, I post, I don't correct. Deal with the mistakes.
R.A.T.

BAD SPORTS

If you're a sports fan, as I once was, you've heard about the firings in the upper echelons of the Cleveland Browns football organization.Seems everyone's fired except the owner, who's not apt to fire HIMSELF!

I'm a woman who was once such a fan of this team, I'd let my husband and three sons---who weren't fans---go off somewhere while I spent a few Sunday hours with the Kardiac Kids(as we referred to them then, when win or lose, they were exciting).

Now...when teams are blackmailing cities to demolish new stadiums and build fancy new ones for them or they will pack up and move; and when spoiled football players spend more time in bars and jails than on the practice field;and when players earn more money in one game than the President of the U.S.can earn in a full term; and when tickets cost so much that families can no longer afford to attend home games together.... Well, ho hum; Bye, boys.

But a lot of you do still care about such things, including people I still care about, and they seem upset about the apparent collapse of this team. To them, I suggest they get in touch with Secretary of State Condaleeza Rice. She will soon be out of work, and she has often expressed her lifelong dream of owning a professional sports team, particularly football.

Perhaps she could scrape some cash together---the team could soon be available at a Bargain Basement price---and she might be able to buy the Browns. After all, she's always enjoyed a good challenge, and this team would certainly be THAT.

Then...even people like me might start watching games again, just to see the strong Condaleeza stylishly pacing the sidelines like a caged mountain lion, with such a grimace on her face, the Kardiac Kids might actually be inspired to start making our hearts beat hard again.

So long for today from R.A.T. (Rose About Town)

THE SNOW EATER

Snow-pack generally lingers long in our valley, melting several weeks or more after surrounding regions have lost their snow cover. At such times my neighbors, up and over the hill in both directions, are often astonished to drive over the rim of the valley from their own green lawns and see the snow so well preserved in my domain.
This week, Nature was a bit more even-handed... We all went to bed, hill and valley dwellers alike, with snow still thickly blanketing the ground; we awoke to find it GONE!
Like the Eskimos' "Chinook" I had read about as a child, the "Snow Eater" winds had tiptoed up from warmer regions to swallow the snow and carry it off to who-knows- where. This unexpected day brought record-breaking warmth as gentle as late springtime. The night was balmy too--star-splashed even at 1 a.m. when the dog insisted I let him outside.
I opened the door and was struck by air so soft I couldn't resist walking outside with my dog. Barefoot and clad in thin night clothes, I willingly lingered in weather I knew would be temporary.
In the morning I woke to howling winds and low-pressure temperature changes ushering in a cold and nasty Arctic Express from the north. Ah... weren't we glad, my dog and I, that we'd tasted some false spring in the night before the storms arrived?
Good day to you all, whatever your weather, from R.A.T. (Rose About Town) and her canine pal, Jack.

"Raindoggy"... Jack in his raincoat

 

The Golden Goose

The child's fable about the goose that laid the golden egg is apropos today. The farmer wasn't happy with just one golden egg per day, and he squeezed the goose so hard, looking for more eggs, that he killed the goose.
Today, we the taxpayers are the goose; the golden eggs are the taxes the government squeezes out of us; and the government is about to kill us with the squeezing for more golden eggs than we have been able to produce.
Uncle Sam would never have thought of a "bail out" for us, in the sensible form of tax credits ($10,000?) for buying new cars that sit idle on dealers' lots, and houses that sit empty and subject to vandalism in neighborhoods. It's too simple. It could move unsold inventory which in turn produces tax money, and the tax credit would give the golden goose some rest; he might then produce more golden eggs.
It would cost a whole lot less than the bail-out plans they did come up with.
In my state, and in my county, our local golden-goose squeezers have been coming to our properties every few years to re-appraise values and produce more taxes. You're not seeing and WONT be seeing them this time around; they don't want their tax-producing values to go down.
THIS golden goose is tired; are you?
Sincere good wishes---honk!---from R.A.T. (Rose About Town)... "Just another golden goose"

CHRISTMAS: Granny & Jenna Rose with new laptops

Day-after blues

It's the day after Christmas, and I'm still in the spirit, but I seem to be alone in that. Everyone I run into in the outside world today is in a blue funk; a grrr-grump!
The friendliest coffee shop I know is deserted except for my husband and me, and then a man comes in and asks me in accusatory fashion if I took the front section of the New York Times. It seems to disappoint him that I can honestly tell him I did not, and he follows that question with, "Well, who did? SOMEONE, for sure!"
At the gym, the normally gregarious regulars don't speak. They're too busy revving themselves up to get rid of the Christmas calories, and the only words I hear aren't words, but GGGRRRUNT! Here, I make a mental note to go gently into my routine; if I'm not gentle with myself, who will be?
The post office is my next stop. I'm the only customer, yet the clerks are too busy counting money in the till to acknowledge that I'm standing there.
The traffic seems surly too... Bob and I go home.... The spirit's there...
We're greeted with obvious love and as much enthusiasm as our big, old arthritic dog Jack can manage. His body is old, but there's still a puppy in his heart. Despite his painful joints made worse by the cold, damp weather, there's not one bah-humbug in his heart. For that, he gets an extra biscuit from us.
We prop our toes in front of the woodburning stove. He stations himself in such a way as to gently settle his warm self upon the cold feet of both of us... simultaneously. And the spirit is back.
We'd better bottle it for future reference.
Happy day-after to you all from two old people and an old dog... still young inside!
Sincerely, R.A.T. (Rose About Town)

Hello, bloggers

This is a first time ever blog for me, as the result of a christmas gift from my youngest son, who for the past few years has been drafted by me as my computer guru. It's he who dragged me kicking and screaming onto the internet, despite my years of protest against that entity. The greatest help it provided from the start was membership in Ancestry.com, which solved some mysteries in our family tree.
When it comes to news, I don't look on the internet. I don't trust what I read on the websites; I will always get my news from the printed newspapers, where honesty, truth and careful research are still a valued commodity, and show biz and news work haven't become a blended commodity.
Here I sit this wintry day in my winding, twisting valley, with the snowy outdoors looking like a Currier and Ives painting. My valley in this weather separates my true friends from the others; you have to really care about me to risk navigating the winding turns... over the river and through the woods to THIS Granny's house.
Through my blogs, however, you can connect to me easily, friend or foe.
I won't be a news-type blogger; I still believe that newspapers do that better, and that's where most of you get your research; it was first done by print journalists! And then you often warp it and mix opinion and fact so carelessly that it's hard to tell them apart.
I will include personal comment, but mostly reflections and sharing things I enjoy.
Merry Christmas to you all.

Rose About Town is now online!

Rose About Town has finally jumped into the 21st Century, and has made it online!

Merry Christmas, Mom---this special gift comes from Kevin, Kim and Jenna Rose!!