Winter Wonderland...enough already!

The snow is snowing, the wind is blowing and we watch the icicles form......bull! I have had enough and I don't mind voicing that opinion!

Tim is home today (and yesterday, and the day before, and all the way back to Thursday!) and we just had the "sub" snowplow driver come and make the drive accessible again.

I could only drive out the driveway in my 4-wheel drive truck and up the next door neighbor's drive as far as their house, and then had to walk the rest of the way to the barn. Not that far when it is not snow covered, or when it is plowed, but when it comes over the top of my 18" tall barn boots, that's enough.

I had to pry the barn door open with a long iron bar and break the ice out of 4 water buckets, and haul water by the bucket to the stalls to water two horses.

Miss Kitty came out to greet me from her perch in the hay loft and had to run a little water in a dish for her to drink. Everything is frozen up to it's eyeballs and I have lost my sense of humor.

It is slowly returning, now that I am in the house, and Daniel was dropped off as "school" was out of the question today!

Put on a crockpot of homemade soup, scoped out a new Patricia Cornwell book, and reserved a spot on the sofa. I guess I can't do anything outside, so the guilt of being in the house and inactive like this is starting to subside!

Lucky me!

The Waiting Game....and a touch of Heaven!

This is the book I just finished reading while waiting at the hospital yesterday. I was waiting for my husband to complete tests, which included dye, exrays, radioactive isotops, xrays, machines, treadmills, lights, cameras and action.

I started on page one, and by the time he was released to go home I was on page 286. I did finish it last evening, very good, I would recommend it highly if you are in to "The Women's Murder Club".

The point is, I waited, and waited, and looked at my watch, then walked the hallway then read, and waited some more.

Come to find out, Tim would have been finished much , much sooner if the first technician had not given him "Hospital Pants" to put on that had snaps on them. Guess what......the little bitty metal snaps showed up on the exrays, and voila' "Let's do them over again, shall we!"

Anyway, we are still waiting to hear something regarding the test results. I wonder if I can match the days that I have to wait for results, to send the check????

This growin' old is for the birds.....

....but it beats the alternative. Now my husband has to go to the hospital for tests on Monday. After getting his D.O.T. (Department of Transportation, which you all probably knew the initials) he was only cleared to drive for 3 months due to "blood in his urine". Now this is a personal matter and certainly private, but just as I was sighing a big sigh of relief about my eye surgery I am faced with the unknown about this series of tests for him.

So, Monday, bright and early we will be in Medina at the hospital doing I don't know what, but a stress test is also involved. I don't feel old, looking is another story, but when did we stop being

immortal???

They "Eyes" have it!

I just returned from the consult and exam with Dr. Chi. Very efficient office with lots of staff, bustling around like some space age facility. Tons of people, and lots of private exam rooms.

First tech, took my eye measurements. Next tech, ushered me into a private, gave me an eye exam, (I failed, wish I had studied harder) then drops, then pressure tested (I passed that one)

then the dreaded drops to dilate, then back to wait. Next, the actual meet the Dr. face to face and his exam. Nice, pleasant man with slender fingers and hands. Next, the explanation, how the process works, what the odds are (good=better than Vegas) and when and where.

Next, the new tech measured my eyeballs. "Thanks so much, we will call in 7 to 10 days to let you know when your surgery will be scheduled".

"Next!"

A Hat for a song by a Song.......

Milan? No.

New York? No.

New Center? Yes!

Aretha Franklin's bow-tied, gift-wrapped, jewel-studded, $179 inaugural hat was designed, produced and sold to the Queen of Soul by Mr. Song Millinery, a family-owned business on Woodward Avenue just south of West Grand Boulevard.

Starting minutes after Franklin finished her distinctive rendition of "My Country, 'Tis of Thee" on Tuesday, the store's phones started ringing. By Wednesday afternoon, Mr. Song had sold hundreds of hats. A store in Dallas had sold 500 more, and the material was running out.
"People are calling from England, asking for the hat," said Luke Song, who designed Franklin's chapeau. "I'm shocked. I had no idea. We did not expect this."
The hat has gone crazy in the media and cyberspace. Everyone from Jon Stewart on "The Daily Show" to the women on "The View" talked about it Tuesday and Wednesday. Stewart poked fun at it; the women seemed more appreciative. On Wednesday's "The Ellen Show," host Ellen DeGeneres wore an exaggerated hat similar to Franklin's.

People have created dozens of Web sites devoted to the hat and have placed it on mug shots of Dick Cheney, assorted dogs and the heads of Mt. Rushmore, among many others.
On the Los Angeles Times blog page Wednesday, a poster named Sarah Hart wrote: "Loved that hat! She is the Queen and she rocked that hat and made that old staid anthem new and powerful!"

Song said Franklin, a longtime customer, came to him and wanted something to go with a coat she had picked out for the inauguration of President Barack Obama. "She had in mind what she wanted," Song said. "She said, 'I want it altered this way.' That's what we do most of the time with the client. We meet them halfway. The heather-gray hat was done in wool felt. The sparkly things are Swarovski crystals.

The hat Song was selling to customers Wednesday is not the custom hat Franklin wore, but it's very close. Song, 36, of Southfield chatted Wednesday and took calls from around the globe, surrounded by about 1,000 vibrantly colored hats in the store, which sits on a stretch of Woodward that has evolved into a funky avenue of fashion. Next door on one side is an abandoned store. On the other side is the Praise Him Beauty, Barber and Nail Salon.
The hat store was started in 1982 by Song's mother, Jin, an immigrant from South Korea. Luke Song, who graduated from Birmingham Seaholm High School and Parsons the New School for Design in New York, is the designer.

"It's an art form for me," Song said. "For me, hats define a culture."
Mr. Song Millinery's clientele is 90% African-American, churchgoing women, Song said. His wholesale business supplies hats to shops in other cities with large African-American communities, and the merchandise sells especially well in California, Houston and Dallas. He designs 100 hat styles every six months. Business was good before the hat appeared on one of the most-watched spectacles in recent years. But now, Franklin's flamboyant headpiece has "taken on a life of its own."

From "Freep.com"

Snug as a Bug in a Rug!

Last May, I was in Washington, D.C. attending the National Women's Council of Realtors Spring Conference. It was my pleasure and privilege to be invited to participate on a private tour of the West Wing of the White House.

A fellow realtor and WCR member invited me two weeks before the conference began to accompany her and another member on this private tour. So I had to submit lots of info for a background check to receive clearance for the tour.

The tour commenced at 5:30 on a Saturday afternoon, and was conducted by Janet Weir Creighton, former mayor of Canton, Ohio, and special deputy assistant to the president, the equivalent of a 4 star general commission. We were met by Janet at a security check point and proceeded to walk into the back of the West Wing. Janet is a vibrant, delightful woman with lots of political savy and it was a genuine treat to be allowed to view a White House that I never before, or probably again would be able to visit.

Janet was appointed to the "job" and along with the appointment came huge responsibility. She told of the first time she flew in "Marine II" One of four Marine helicopters that transport the President and Vice-President. She was the only passenger aboard, and when she looked out the side window, she saw another Marine helicopter rise next to Marine II and then speed ahead.

She asked the Crew Chief "What was that????" the reply came, "Ma'm, that was Marine I, carrying the President". "Carrying the President?" "Then what am I in?" He replied, "the decoy Ma'm!" Welcome to Washington!

We sat in the Brady Press Room, stood at the podium (the room is quite small compared to what you would think it would be) and I even sat in "Helen's" seat up front and had my picture taken.

As we toured the west wing, we paused at the door to the Oval Office. It was not occupied, but we were allowed to stick our heads in and see as much as we could see without actually entering the office. What I was drawn to was the rug on the floor. It was beautiful and huge in size. The "Texas" star was prominent, and the star theme was carried out throughout the workmanship of the thick and lush rug. We were told that each President has his own rug, chosen by him to depict his presidency.

I wonder what the new rug will look like.

As I stood there, it made no difference who was president, or who would be president. I felt the immense presence of quiet and powerful spirits. Long gone from this earth, but nevertheless, powerful and standing guard over the Oval Office. Shivers ran up my spine as I tried to take in 43 presidents sitting at that desk. What a heavy mantle of responsibility. Accepting the advice of close advisors, learned men, scholars, sifting through all the possible scenaios that would unfold based on your decisions.

Not a job for the feint of heart, but a huge job none the less.

The tour ended, and Janet graciously offered a ride to the three of us the "K" restaurant where were meeting Ohio WCR members for dinner. I will never forget sitting in the back seat of Janet's car and proceeding down Pennsylvania Avenue through two security checkpoints where huge steel barriers rose above the brick street. With just a short pause, something electronic in Janet's car met with approval from the armed guard, and magically the huge steel barricades disappeared into the underbelly of the street. Getting through the guards to the White House is not an easy task.

God Bless those who came before, and God Bless those that are there now, and God Bless those who will come.

In closing, I am sticking to my oath:

Unless I heard it with my own ears, don't take stock in it.

Unless I saw it with my own eyes, take it with a grain of salt, and unless they ask my opinion, keep my opinion to myself until it is asked.

Till I walk in those shoes, God Bless those that do!

A special moment in the inaugural parade....

Austin Chandler has ridden horses since he was a toddler, and Jan. 20 he'll make an unforgettable ride.
Chandler, 16, is among 77 members of Culver Military Academy's all-male Black Horse Troop who will ride in the parade. "We all had a pit in our stomachs wondering if we would make it because 1,400 groups applied (to be in the parade) and only 49 got in," said Chandler, Whitestown, who attended Shamrock Springs Elementary in Westfield and Zionsville Middle School.

Culver, 100 miles north of Indianapolis, is a boarding school that offers college-preparatory curriculum for boys and girls in Grades 9-12. Its Black Horse Troop is the largest mounted cavalry unit in the United States, according to the school's Web site.

The troop's involvement in presidential inaugurals began when President Woodrow Wilson took office in 1913. It also appeared at his second inauguration in 1917.
The troop made its third appearance during President Dwight D. Eisenhower's second inaugural in 1957, then participated in every inaugural parade through 1989. It returned to the parade in 1997.

The Black Horse Troop and its female counterpart, the Equestriennes, make up the best riders at Culver Military Academy and Culver Girls Academy, according to a school news release. Twenty-three girls will ride in the parade, too. All those in the inaugural event must maintain good academic standing and citizenship while demonstrating proficiency in equitation.
"We were thrilled," Chandler said about the troop's attitude upon hearing it would travel to the U.S. capital. "We went from doing our normal practices to now knowing that we really have to concentrate" on riding drills.

At age 13, Chandler got an invitation to play polo with Culver's varsity team, and soon after he received a scholarship to play the sport at the school.
"I didn't know what the heck I was getting into," he said. "Finally, I said, 'I've started it, and I'm going to finish it.' "

Chandler, a junior, is a regimental color sergeant major. That puts him in command of the school's color guard.
In less than three weeks, he'll be on the front line during the inaugural parade riding a horse named Cherokee and carrying a flag representing Troop A of the Black Horse Troop.
Chandler's mother, Donna Chandler, said the thought of her son being a part of history brings tears to her eyes.
"This is something that will affect the rest of his life," she said. "We (she and husband, Greg) get goose bumps just thinking about this."

Chandler's parents will travel to Washington to see him in the parade. All three will attend Michigan's inaugural ball with friends who provided tickets.
"This is the most memorable inauguration that we've had because it's the first time an African-American has been elected president," Chandler said. "No one is ever going to forget Barack Obama's inauguration, and I'm lucky enough to be there."

*The WestfieldStar.com

p.s. The Famous Black Horse that is used as a riderless mount in the 60's and 70's was named "Black Jack" The symbolic riderless horse who wore a saddle, but had tall black boots fastened to the stirrup irons that were obviously "empty" was a huge symbol in the funeral procession of presidents. My husband, an accomplished farrier/blacksmith, had the opportunity in the 70's to work on Black Jack in Pennsylvania, at the university there. Also, the thrill of a lifetime!