Wednesday - Frustrated

I have been off-line for a few days - not that I did not try to write something or post a picture.
Blogger won't let me.

This blog or blogger is making me crazy.

I have not posted in a few days because there is something going on with blogspot and it will not let me post. I can see the post but I cannot access the "posting" pages - and forget uploading photos.

Has anyone else had this problem. The Mac folks say its not my computer - and they only" fix hardware not software" so I have fiddled with browsers and the software. No cures.

You know - its not the fact that it doesn't work that irritates - frustrates - me so much. Its that I never know what its going to do. Temperamental. I keep thinking I have done it right, fixed it - whatever and then - the page blanks out again. It feels personal.

Makes me think of some people I know. You know, the ones where you have to watch which way the wind is blowing - - to brace for what's coming. Walk on egg shells - maybe there is something you can do to head off a storm. But the truth is - you can't. Finally you realize the only solution is to give that person a wide berth - and keep your distance.

Reluctantly - I have to ask myself - how often do I blow up a storm with no warning - unsettle my world -

Drat - it always comes back to looking at the plank in your own eye, doesn't it?

Keep Focused

Keep focused

that's what I am doing.

Telling the story

sending out press releases

following up

interviews

All those things you have to do to

"get the word out".

Wondering what I will wear - - -

So the Fringe takes over most of my brain

Just give me a couple of weeks and I will be back

to

Real life.

Today on Metro Connection - WAMU Fm aired my story - which is a part of the SpeakeasyDC OUR CITY project . Although it is a different story - it is a perfect shout out for Pushing Boundaries, my Capital Fringe Program. Listen HERE.

more going on

Bill lives with us

He is silent as the night

an invisible stalker

except - he's been belled.

He is old

but he is still a leaper

as well as a sleeper.

Back in action

1. Capital Fringe tickets went on sale today.

Pressure mounts.
Excitement builds.
Capital Fringe is only 16 days away.

Always more to do.
Facebook, PR, Posters, Programs.
I keep making lists and for everyone I mark off it seems to me several more appear.
Its like rabbits - - multiplying.

2. Taped my TV show today and it was fun to be back.
Since today was the first day of summer - I told of memories of summers at Wrightsville Beach NC - when the beaches were pristine and you would never dream the day would come when Southern shores would be threatened by an oil spill. In those days the grown-ups worried about enemy U-Boats sighted off the coast and other concerns related to WWII. But none of that touched me. My days were filled collecting shells and wading at the water's edge.

3, Really loving the World Cup Soccer games. New to me - I am an enthusiastic convert.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Fathers Day, Jim.

We will have stories of Italy later this afternoon when Jimmy, Monica, Juliana and Alison stop by on their way home from Dulles Airport with the dust of Rome still clinging to their shoes.

Karen will be on hand from PA to add her hugs for the day.

In the octave Robin flies in and we will have first hand stories from the West Coast. She will talk of High School graduations, camp trips, football camp and first ever solo road trips. All the stuff of teen-age sons who are feeling their oats.

The important things, right.

Speakeasy's Father's Day Program - a winner

Amy Saidman placed this program in the Atlas Theater

on H Street. Atlas is a historic vintage movie theater which has been completely re-done into a very fine performing space - holding three theaters.

Fun Fact. Atlas Theater was the first large air-conditioned space in DC.

Sold out crowd.

"Who's Your Daddy?"is the first Speakeasy Father's Day special program but I predict it will not be the last.

The program was also the

culmination of a longer storytelling-performance class where the seven tellers polished these stories. A great Showcase for the education programs.

Jim and Storyteller, Geraldine Buckley

I came particularly to hear Geraldine's story - and Jim and I were glad we did.

Geraldine Buckley comes to US storytelling from Ireland by way of Great Britain. Her stories are spiced with surprising experiences that take you into a diferent world.

Lets just say - how many people do you know who have taken a $200 pink bus from London to Delhi, India and told you about it? Geraldine has a strong, confident style - and she is funny - so she was a perfect choice to open the program.

David Hallisey, father of two, was another favorite. His story of his decision to have a Vasectomy was brave, underdone, and hilariously funny. His quiet style and low key delivery were exactly right to allow the audience to enter his private world with out being put off by the topic and to appreciate his viewpoint. Interesting that when he finished you are not sure the deed has been done!

All seven tellers were stellar. True stories that are worth a hearing.

Partners

A bit of the history.

Coalition of Womens Arts Organizations was formed to give women artists a voice to government and a presence in the larger women's movement.

Joyce Aiken, Professor of Art, UC Fresno, was elected President in 1978.

Ellouise Schoettler continued her work as Washington Lobbyist which she began in 1977 - but with a new title, Executive Director.

On a personal note: Joyce and I had never met until we were paired to lead the Coalition. We hit it off immediately and became

friends as well as professional partners.

Its a small world. My husband Jim grew up in Fresno, CA. It turns out that he and Joyce grew up in the same neighborhood, both went to Fresno High School, and graduated in the same class from Fresno State College. Practically family.

Now and Then

Do you remember this?

Boycott. That was one of the strategies to support ERA from 1979 to 1982.

Organizations were asked not to organize annual conventions and meetings in unratified states. Show the unratified states that there was an economic cost for not passing ERA.

In 1981 College Art Association was scheduled to have their annual meeting in New Orleans. Louisiana was an unratified state. The Women's Caucus for Art held their annual meeting in conjunction with CAA. CAA would not observe the boycott. Members of CAA were split over going ahead with their annual meeting.

WCA decided on a "Solomon-like" solution - two meetings. The first, the alternative for those supporting the boycott - was held in Washington, DC. The second was held along side the CAA meeting in New Orleans.

The Honorable Bella Abzug was invited to Washington to receive a special award from WCA.

Shown in the picture: Bella Abzug, Harriet Lyons, editor MS Magazine and Ellouise Schoettler.

Smaller, but spirited, the meeting was well-done and most important supported the ERA campaign.

Getting Ready For the DC Capital Fringe

Rehearsing my story this afternoon with Storyteller Geraldine Buckley. Excellent feed-back.

Good to have a new ear on the story -

Robin called, "Mom, your first performance is July 9. Did you realize that's the same date as the 1978 NOW ERA MARCH on the Mall?"

That's perfect!

I will be telling my story - 32 years later - just a dozen blocks from the Washington Mall.

Yes, I was there. Wearing white, marching under the Coalition of Women's Arts Organizations banner.

Were you there?

If you were, please add your story on www.facebook.com/secondwavealbum

It was hot and humid that day but that did not dampen our spirits or slow us down. I was excited to be a part of the historic moment when 100,000 women - wearing white - converged on the Washington Mall to support the Equal Rights Amendment.

I had no idea that my being there on July 9, 1978 was just the beginning of my personal journey with the Equal Rights Amendment.

Tuesday - Tweaking

The Capital Fringe is coming closer and closer. My first performance is July 9.

I have the story, true - - but still I keep tweaking. Pulling out albums and papers. Bringing the history back to life for myself so that I can take the listeners there with me as I tell the story.

Old photographs
tell me stories.

They remind me of who I was then.

What it felt like to be that "me".

They give me back forgotten bits of personal history to go with the formal record.

Washington artist Nancy Cusick took this picture - 1977, International Women's Year Meeting, Houston, Texas. Nancy was representing the Washington Women's Arts Center and I was tagged for the Coalition of Women's Arts Organizations, the new political action group for women artists.

The artist group was small - about thirty - from California, Arizona, New York, Washington,DC, Texas, Virginia and other places I do not recall. Charlotte Robinson, DC and Virginia, and I organized the Women's Artspace which was the official site allotted to Artists by the IWY Commission. We did it without any money - - and it would not have happened at all except

that the State Department allowed me access to an office WATTS line - a free telephone - for weeks beforehand. I used that phone every day to connect with women artists across the country - and finally to make the call to borrow a movie projector from the Houston Library.

That movie projector proved to be a key element. Arizona artist Muriel Magenta brought her movie, "The Bride" - word of it spread and women crowded into our small curtained space to review the film. It was a hit - a point of conversation - and showed folks how artists can make a difference.

Four days of standing, walking and talking.

Women artists were a part of this gathering of women from across the country who were there to push for equal rights for women.

In addition to following the over-all agenda we gathered ideas, shared stories, and talked strategies - about women artists and how we could work toward achieving more successful careers in the male-favoring art world.

During the days of the IWY meeting the Houston women artists opened their hearts and homes to those of us who came from out-of-town. The picture of me shows a moment at a casual outdoor reception when I finally dropped down to give my feet a rest.

During the conference I was one of a group of eight or more artists welcomed into a large private home - it was like a college sleep-over. We came and went at will. Only really saw each other or our hostess over coffee in the dining room or kitchen in the morning. We did take time for brief chats - getting to know women from other parts of the U.S.

I joined the group after all the beds were assigned. Our hostess magically produced a canvas camp- cot and there was enough space in the laundry room to set it up a private nook. She apologized. I was grateful - it felt good to me.

When I came home I wrote about the Houston Meeting for Washington Review of the Arts:

the women who were there, a bit of what happened, the networking etc. etc.

But no bits about sleeping next to the water heater, sitting up late with New York artists hearing about how they do business, or a side conversation with an older now iconic artist about the onset of her menopause. Or the comedy of packing 7 women like sardines into a small hatch-back for a ride through downtown Houston to find a restaurant.

It was a bonding.

Building a network to support what the Coalition of Women's Arts Organizations would do next.

The personal is political.

Monday - Viva Italia

Our son Jim's family is in Sicily. He sends travel journals that whet our appetite for a trip to Italy.

This afternoon I watched World Cup Soccer - Italy versus Paraguay - imagining how exciting it would be to watch the match in-country.

So - for lunch we remembered and celebrated all things Italian with a pasta dish:

Penne Pasta with Basil.
Warm cooked Penne Pasta, tossed with light oil olive and fresh cut sweet basil with Parmesan cheese sprinkled liberally on top . Salt and paper to taste. Who needs anything more? Delicious!

Sunday

We are celebrating a couple of passages this week-end.

Today is Jim's Birthday!


Happy Birthday, Grandpa!




And - - another passage
- -

This darling kid - Jim's namesake - graduated from high school Friday and then took to the road with some friends for a beach week in San Diego.


Probably wearing his new Santa Clara University t-shirt proclaiming that he is launched - -

Oh, boy -- these things happen fast. I know that is a cliche - but that doesn't mean its not filled with truth!

New Friday Video - Swimming

Swimming from Ellouise Schoettler on Vimeo.

I love telling this story because when I do it takes me right back to those uncomplicated happy days when you could solve a challenge by jumping in the water.

Friday - Stream of Conscioiusness

Some days not everything matches perfectly





and ideas bounce
like gum balls
when you shake
the round glass globe



from remembering my days at the Washington Women's Arts Center
as I stroll through my Second Wave past for the Second Wave Album
and preparing for performing the story at the
Capital Fringe

you know, the big things.



i catch a glimpse of my
bunk hair in the hall mirror
its a fright wig
get yourself to Images on the double
you need help

Indulging in black and white
movies
until vintage stars and plots blur
in a gray haze.


sorry I missed
my grandmother's birthday last week week

warm, sweet Ellie Hall Keasler Baer
who said she was born on a rock poor farm in Mint Hill, NC.
maybe so
but you'd never guess it when she was "done up"
wearing an elegant black dress
her pearl "ear bobs"
and little foxes chasing themselves around her neck.

From my first day
Granny laughed with me and loved me
and told me
you can do anything you set your mind to.




Happy Birthday
darling Granny
thanks

Thursday - Just Talk

I had an operation last week ---- and I had to tell a story to get it.

When I checked in at the hospital all the doctors and nurses were smiling, happy and laughing – you know “getting the patient softened up and in the mood.”

Just after they took away my clothes and dressed me in a skimpy white cotton gown with funky blue flowers the anesthesiologist - already suited-up in a light blue scrub suit and hat- - popped in - - to say "hello" before he said "night night".

Quicker than I could get a proper hug and kiss from Jim, we were off down the hall for my big show. As we rolled into the operating room I sat up on the gurney and took stock of the theater. Then they slid me over onto the operating table - settling me under the glare of a huge round shield in the ceiling. I felt rather like a beached whale.

I recognized the anesthesiologist by his blue eyes. As he lifted my hand he said, “ So, you are a storyteller – how about telling me a story”

What? Wow! I wasn’t ready for this!
What story?
I quickly flipped through my mental story deck .
Ah, yes, An old joke - The Four Men in a Plane with Three Parachutes.”

On cue - under the lights – no lipstick - - not even wearing any underpants - I began to tell a story – to put myself to sleep.

I can’t remember if I made it to the punch line or not.

Several days later I knew I didn’t really care about that punch line - - -
I am happy with the ending to my story.

wednesday - yea God!

first- special thanks to robin for her guest blogs while i was out-of- it.
she brought back some lovely memories and i loved the way she up-dated them with her story.

well, its like this - i am happily home from the hospital- grateful to my skilled surgeon for fixing my problem. there were some really lovely folks helping afterwards and they shared wonderful stories which i have stored. my dear family, jim, jimmy, monica and karen took shifts to stay with me for four days. my body is bouncing back steadily. storyteller geraldine buckley said it best in a facebook message - " yea God."

so, catching up

• life moves on while you step off the treadmill. our grand-daughter alison is in italy on a college semester and spent last week-end in venice - something she has dreamed of for years. she posted a picture of the grand canal taken from behing the prow of a gondola - quite a memory.
• robin's oldest son moves toward his high school graduation this week. wow, that happened overnight.
• jimmy, monica and juliana fly to italy friday. ahhhhhhhhh
• the news continues to be depressing.

• princess leia ran through the house frantically checking things out after five days in the kennel.

• i can hear the washing machine chugging away in the utility room.

things are getting back to normal.

yea, God!

Good News

7 am
Sun is shining - skies are blue
Roar of planes overhead
headed for new adventures

Me too

Woke up and my body told me - get up - no more lollygagging in bed.
Doctor made his rounds early and agreed
Pack your bags - going home

No argument from me
Jim's on his way to pick me up
Back in action.

Tethered

Sibley Hospital Lament

Lying in a sixth floor hospital bed
staring into the dark sky
I watch pinpoints of yellow light
follow the Potomac River
like moving stars
toward their Reagan destination
wishing I too was riding high
rather than being tethered here.

Thank goodness I'm just tethered temporarily. Surgery went well. Looking forward to coming in a day or two. Thanks for all the get well wishes. Love gettinfg those emails on my iPhone,

Watch for me back on the blog tomorrow.

- Ellouise

Tapping 1970s Lesson in Art and Album

NOTE: It's Robin S. Fox, Ellouise's daughter, still serving as Guest Blogger while Ellouise is recuperating

By Creative Memories standards, the album is stark. No stickers. No background designer papers. No stars. But the album my mother made for me as a high school graduation present in 1977 is jammed with dates and addresses and memories. Hand penned on archival paper.

Mine wasn't Mom's first album. In the mid-1970s, Ellouise took a class in Ruth Ward's attic with Josephine Withers where Ruth taught them how to work with photos. All three were members of the Washington Women's Art Center, and all three were interested in family origins.

"We had a blast," says Mom now.

Ellouise's first album positioned current day photos of everyday life like our family dinners with similar photos from her childhood.

"I used the photos to mark the passage of time," Mom said when I called to ask her about it earlier today. (NOTE: She's promised to write her own blog post about all this soon.)

That album, and others (including mine) were later exhibited at the Washington Women's Art Center. In the 1970s, one of the thrusts in women's art was to declare personal material as appropriate subject for art. The albums were part of that effort.

Somewhere there is a picture of me at the WWAC, looking at the albums. But I can't find it. What I know is that Mom protected them. My album still has attached the chain she used to secure it the exhibit.

These albums began Ellouise's use of albums as art -- and story -- form.

The pictures in my album are all dry mounted on archival paper, thanks to those lessons from Ruth. They spread across the pages chronologically. Collectively, the pages in my album tell a story. My story.

I was thinking about that album this week as I sat at my dining room table designing my graduating son's collaged "Memory Board" which will hang with all the rest of his friends' collages in a long hall as part of the all-night Grad Night event on Friday. A Campolindo High School tradition.

Thursday, the doors will open for the public walk-through of all the varied entertainment areas parents have been designing for months.

And I know -- people will linger at the Memory Boards. They always do. They're looking for familiar faces, curious about each of the graduating seniors. In some ways the collages are like Mom's first albums -- there's a similarity of pictures. Just different faces marking the same 18 years of time.

I've walked through the Memory Board exhibits many times over the years. I knew what most will be jammed with pictures. So I started to try to create one just like that. Meet expectations.

I wish I could tell you that I was lovingly making the Memory Board the way that my mother spent weeks making my album.

But the truth is that I was stressing. Let's just say that the combination of communication and technological snafus, combined with the failure of a crumpled up instructions page to make it out of my son's jeep, left the project already late and me, in distress.

At first, I sifted boxes and old albums and digital files. But then I stopped, pausing to look at my own album Mom gave me so many years before. And that's when I started to think about Jamie. My memories. The stories I told about him. The stories he told. The things that he still kept in his room.

Suddenly, all those others eyes-on-the-collage didn't matter.

The Memory Board could just tell a story. Jamie's Story. Pictures combined with mementos. So I moved away from the archives and pulled out my camera to take a few new shots.

And the result got better. Less like a photo montage. More like an album.

Jamie's Story.

Told my way.

The way MY mother taught me.

About today's guest blogger:

_{Robin S. Fox is a certified social media and inbound marketing coach who lives in Northern California. And... she's Ellouise's daughter.}

Old Letters - Fresh Perspective

_{NOTE: It's Robin S. Fox, Ellouise's daughter, still serving as Guest Blogger while Ellouise is recuperating.}

Mom's letters to me began arriving in 1977, that Fall I entered UNC-Chapel Hill and, with the exception of college summers when I was home, letters kept arriving until they morphed into emails.

Do you have a letter collection? I do, although I rarely add to it now.

My mother-in-law, who passed away a year ago at the age of 78, was the last of my circle who refused to embrace email. She held fast to stationary and stamps, punctuated by the occasional phone call. There were moments when I wondered why, but when we went back to Illinois for the memorial, I found myself taking a picture of the desk in her den, its drawers organized with stationary choices. I could imagine her sitting there, writing me. Even now, that makes me smile.

The stationary. The pen. The choice of stamp. The return address. It all adds to a letter's message.

Words in context have more meaning. At least to me.

It's the same reason that when I journal I don't just put a date at the top of the page. I add the time and the place, too. Like the first summer we moved to Northern California and we seemed to live at the neighborhood pool. Flip through those entries and you'll find headers that might read: "Friday, July 17. 11:58 a.m. Sitting in a lounge chair at the shallow end of Rancho. Again."

Mom's earliest letters to me are on various types of stationary, yellow pad papers and other bits of paper she had handy as she reached for her pen. But in 1979, after she took the job at the League of Women Voters, the letters arrived on official stationary.

Mom writes the way she tells stories -- full of details. Letters blend news from home with reactions to what I'd written to her. Some continue conversations we'd had on the telephone or something she'd heard I'd said to Dad when she wasn't home to talk.

Those early letters also chronicle her burgeoning career as artist and lobbyist, and then her work at the League and the creation of the Business Council for ERA

All of which leads to odd juxtapositions. A letter might jump from a meeting at the White House to the neutering of my bother's cat, randomly named Rover.

Looking at those letters now, they serve as a kind of window into my own life -- which is fun and weird, all at once.

Last week, though, something new surfaced. Mom found this shot of her office at the League of Women Voters:

Mom wrote me early in the morning because she did what I did when I worked summers in D.C. -- she commuted in with Dad.

Dad always left home by 6:30 a.m. to make it to his office (which was then near the Phillips Gallery) for his 7 a.m. patient. That put Mom at her desk way before the start of the normal business day.

I think those letters to me served to warm Mom up for a full day's effort.

What I know for sure is this: Mom wrote me those letters at that desk, on that Selectric typewriter, as she sat in that chair, waiting for the work day to begin and that phone to start ringing.

It's like I just hit "refresh" and my letter collection came up with a new illustration.

Cool.

About today's guest blogger:

_{Robin S. Fox is a certified social media and inbound marketing coach who lives in Northern California. And... she's Ellouise's daughter.}

1st iPhone Video: Claudia Shares WWAC Memory -- and A Daughter Speaks Up

Hi -- it's Ellouise's daughter, Robin S. Fox, serving as Guest Blogger today since Ellouise is recuperating. I think Mom would have been happy if I'd just posted a picture so she wouldn't miss another day on her blog, but since she's probably sleeping as I write this, I'm hoping she'll forgive me for taking advantage of the situation, and actually writing something. And I hope you forgive me for it, too.

Ellouise -- Thanks & an Update

First -- Thanks to all who've sent such wonderful messages.

Here's the scoop: Mom had a surgical procedure yesterday -- scheduled.

See how relaxed she looked on the way to the hospital? (This is the picture she sent me.)

The procedure went beautifully. Ask the surgeon -- even he said so. All is well and I'm guessing that Mom will be back playing with her new iPhone sometime later today. Certainly she'll be back posting here in a day or two. No way would she stay away longer. (I'm pretty sure she's packed her computer!)

Full recovery is expected quickly.

In the meantime, we don't want Ellouise to break her 2010 Video Friday record, right? So I'm posting the video she made Wednesday with that iPhone.

Washington Women's Art Center Memories

Claudia Vess, a Washington Area Artist and long time friend of Mom's, was at the house visiting so Mom showed her the new Second Wave Album Facebook Page. Have you taken a look at it? If not, please do.

Anyway, Claudia saw one of Kristina Edmondson's cartoons that had been published in the Washington Women's Art Center newsletter decades ago. And that prompted her own memory, which Mom immediately filmed:

A couple of early iPhone Lessons:

(1) It's easier to share the video directly from the iPhone than to download to your computer, upload to Vimeo as a QuickTime Video (where it might randomly land sideways!), have your daughter download it to her laptop, and then upload it onto Youtube. All because you deleted it from the iPhone as soon as it was uploaded to that first computer, eliminating the all important Do-Over Option. Gasp.

(2) Likely there are settings that will make it possible to avoid the whole black border issue. Or perhaps it was the way Ellouise held the phone. No matter -- it does the job.

Most important... a Reminder:

(3) There are more ways to share your story than joining Facebook.

Claudia isn't on Facebook. Are you? If you're not, you can still see the Second Wave Facebook Page, because it's public. What you miss, though, are other people's posts.

Bottom line: Facebook is about conversation and you can't join a conversation if you don't join the party and you can't hear the full converstion. Or can you?

What's Up with the Second Wave Album?

As I write this there are 83 "Fans" and the number seems to grow daily as word is spreading.

More exciting is that people are starting to speak up.

Here's a graph of the pages' Fan growth so far:

Keep in mind that, while we created the Page in February, we didn't publicize it until late March. Before then, it was just Mom and Me. Thinking. Tinkering. Imagining: What could happen on such a Facebook Page? Could Facebook help do what no publisher had done: Gather the stories of the ordinary women who'd embraced change so ardently? Grassroots stories.

What's the goal? I don't know. There were 100,000 who participated in the NOW March on Washington on July 9, 1978, to encourage an extension of the ERA ratification deadline. Each of those people has a different story about how they arrived to that day.

83 v. 100,000 -- seems like we're missing a few people.

And what about the ones who couldn't make it to the March? Or the ones who just want to know more about what was going on back then.

I'm embarassed to tell you that I didn't go that day. I was 18 years old. You would have thought Mom would have dragged my sister (then 19) and me. Fact: She did invite us to go. Several times.

Now that I have an 18 year old (son), I get it -- it's hard to MAKE them do anything they don't want to do. Hard to get them to understand what they might be missing. Managing Potential Regret isn't a big part of their equation. Yet.

Or maybe it's just a heredity thing. Were you a different kind of teen?

Likely, I spent that day lifeguarding at Connecticut Belair Pool, unaware of the significance of what was going on just a few miles away. A missed opportunity to witness history. Alas. I wonder now if it would have been a flashpoint in my life.

I'm feeling pretty lucky, though. I'm getting a second chance -- to notice not just history but the ways my mother participated in it. Looking at files, pictures. Listening to Mom's stories, and the stories of others. And I have the ability to ask more questions. It's all a luxury, and I know it.

Sharing without Facebook

Still, if you have a memory you want to share, there are other ways to do that than joining Facebook, including just telling your stories to Ellouise -- by phone, email or video! Or you can just write a comment on this post here. If you do, we can move it over to the Facebook Page to share with others. Just let us know that's okay with you.

The point is that that these 1970s memories are important to capture. They are shared history. So add yours, okay?

Thanks!

About today's guest blogger:

_{Robin S. Fox is a certified social media and inbound marketing coach who lives in Northern California. And... she's Ellouise's daughter.}

Catch-up

You know something. I forgot to write on the blog yesteday.

Things were a bit hectic here all day.
Getting ready for my surgery today was a hassle.
And I am sure many of you know what that's like now that you do everything at home before you go to the hospital - so you are ready.

I have a new toy - an Apple iPhone and it is very diverting. I am in love with it - even with the steep learning curve and the strange feel of the key-pad. I keep typing too many wrong letters.
Typos will abound for a long time.

All that is over-balanced by the wonderful camera and video capability. Love it! Love it! and you will probably be seeing it here.


You are invited to visit the Second Wave Album on Facebook. The link is on the right hand side of this blog. I scanned like a fiend last week so that Robin will have plenty to work with during the next few days while I may not be paying attention to it.

Besides bringing me into the modern age by mentoring me on Social Media she is absolutely my alter ego on all this stuff on the web. Believe me, I am so grateful for her creative ideas and hands on help. Also just plain fun to work with my daughter.

So for now - Ciao.

Over the Back Fence

it used to be
the best stories
came over the back fence
now
its face book
twitter
and the blogs.

Social media is the new back fence.