It’s true. The older you get, the faster time flies. I’m not even ready for summer yet, and it’s long over. Sue and I both have colds (or something) which we will recover from soon. Otherwise, it’s a fairly quiet time in out lives.
But of course, we’re gearing up for Thanksgiving. We plan to host Carlene’s family at our house. We have a turkey and ham which we will use, and Sue is planning to prepare her sausage dressing/stuffing. Carlene’s crew will provide the side dishes – although I’m hoping Sue will fix creamed onions for me.
There are a few wildfires in the area. None are close to us, but due to a weather “inversion”, there is plenty of smoke in the air. I haven’t had any noticeable trouble breathing yet, but won’t be surprised if something develops – particularly with my cold.
For as long as I can remember, allergies have been a part of my life. I credit the DNA from my father’s side of the family for bestowing these on me, as the entire Ferguson clan was a collection of red, watery eyes and continuous sniffling. Regardless of the season, there always seemed to be some allergens in the environment that would taunt me. I spent the first quarter century of my life in southern New England (Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts) accepting my condition without question.
In my later twenties, I moved to Cleveland, Ohio. When people noticed me sneezing, the locals would tell me, “This is the worst location in the country for allergies. Drug companies test allergy-related medicines here.” Personally, I couldn’t tell any difference in “sneezing habits.”
After eleven years in Ohio, I moved back to southern New England – specifically into the Hartford, CT area. Interestingly, when I exhibited allergy-related symptoms, people would tell me, “This is the worst location in the country for allergies. Drug companies test allergy-related medicines here.” Strangely, I had not heard this while growing up in the area. Had we been invaded by pollens during my decade away?
Upon retirement twenty-three years later, I relocated to southeast Tennessee, bringing my allergies with me. Sure enough, local folks started telling me, “This is the worst location in the country for allergies. Drug companies test allergy-related medicines here.”
So I see two possible explanations. (1) Everybody (with the possible exception of folks in Arizona) thinks they live in the worst spot in the country for allergies, or (2) I have had the uncanny luck of taking up residence in the three most allergy-laden spots in the country. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket.
I am sincerely grateful for the recognition, but it seems like it’s getting a little silly. Then again, there’s nothing wrong with being silly. Particularly for me.
A little surprised to receive a Volunteer of the Year award from the Connecticut and Rhode Island Region of the American Red Cross. It was especially nice to receive this in Rhode Island where I began my Red Cross volunteering 56 years ago. It brought back years of memories of great times and friendships.
I’ve recently leased a new 2015 Nissan Murano. Since having the car, it’s made more trips (and mileage) back and forth to the dealer than anything else. First let me be clear: I love the Murano. It’s been a total pleasure to drive. But there have been a couple of needed tweaks:
One of the taillight segments wasn’t working. The problem was a losse or broken connector which was repaired in a couple of minutes.
Next was a loose piece of chrome trim. This was due to “loss of tension in the clips” (according to the write-up. Anyway, another minor issue that was…or more correctly, is being addressed.
Probably the most exasperating is the paperwork for the lease. While the folks at the dealership are a pleasure to work with, it seems like the folks at the leasing company keep changing the forms–or requirements for the forms–and we’ve had to return twice to re-sign them after the initial signing.
But to end, let me repeat this is a great vehicle. And at my age, it’s nice having a car that’s smarter than I am. Okay, that’s not saying much. Then again, it’s a shame all drivers don’t have such a vehicle; most of them seem pretty stupid these days.
Just trying to see what a post from the iPhone app looks like, and how the options work.
Had a call from an old friend the other day. He had received our Christmas card and was worried, that since there wasn’t any note in it, we might not be doing so well. (The truth is more related to laziness than anything else.)
Anyway, Vincent and I first me in kindergarten in September, 1949. We went all through school together. The town we grew up in (Lincoln, RI) didn’t have a high school back then, and we both opted to go to Hope High in Providence. My father and I would give Vincent a ride to school in the morning, and we rode the bus home together in the afternoon. After high school, we both went to Wentworth Institute pf Technology in Boston, where we were roommates. After Wentworth, we went our separate ways, but within a couple of years, we both ended up working in the same department at Pratt & Whitney in Connecticut. After another few years, Vincent enlisted in the Air Force and I moved on to jobs at other companies…but some time later, we both ended up back at Pratt & Whitney and, of course, in the same department again! We both stayed there this time till we each retired.
Vincent lost his wife last January, from complications after a fall on some black ice. Otherwise it sounds like he’s doing well. Is daughter is living with him, and he remains active in the area. He also attends get-togethers with other retirees from P&W for luncheons and some breakfasts.
When we were kids, he was always into model trains. He still is. And he “hangs around” a local railroad near his house, where they maintain a sort of railroad museum. Sounds like he’s even talked his way into operating the real engines, too.
It was great to hear from him, and I’ll have to try to be more pro-active in the future with keeping in touvh.