Sophie's Story

   Kyle and Lissa visited us for a week last week. In case you don't remember, Lissa is the daughter of a childhood friend of mine.    About three years ago Lissa and Kyle, who were living in Las Vegas at the time, decided to head to a drive through wedding chapel to get married. I was furious. When it comes to marriage I'm pretty conservative. I believe it is a lifelong and more commitment. I find shows like "The Bachelor", "The Bachelorette", "Say Yes to the Dress" and "Bridezillas"  very offensive. They make a mockery out of something that,to me,is sacred.    Lissa was only 19 years old when they got married. I didn't think she was anywhere mature enough for such a commitment. She had a fairly turbulent life growing up. I didn't think she had dated very much either. I had no idea about Kyle. It sounded like something they did on the spur of the moment. Not a good thing. I was certain they would be divorced in a few years.

   The first column I ever wrote was on Memorial Day 2008. I no longer have a copy of the column,but I remember why I wrote it. Some general or other military official had made a remark about how civilians don't care and don't understand since they themselves have not  had to make any kind of sacrifice during the recent military action.   I took exception to this. I live with someone who has sacrificed because of war. His name is C and he's my husband. His father, Mr. Warren, fought in Europe during World War II. In that column I wrote about how that war profoundly effected my husband even though he had not stepped on the battlefield himself and in fact was born roughly five years after the war ended.   The damage of war has a ripple effect. The worst damage, naturally,is to the places and the people who fought and killed. This is obvious.   What isn't obvious is that like the stone dropped in the water the ripples spread out and affect a much larger area. The sold

   C and I both belong to the Small Town Toastmasters group. We have a custom that we end each meeting with some form of humor. It can be joke or a funny story. I have always liked that custom.    A couple of weeks ago I was assigned to provide the humor. Sometimes I can think or find something right away and sometimes I can't. I was coming up dry. It was late on Wednesday afternoon and I had absolutely no idea what I was going to do.   C remembered something he read on the Internet about a battleship that demanded another vessel move out of the way to avoid a collision. The other vessel refused and a small verbal battle ensued. The exchange ended with a furious demand from the battle ship's commander to move immediately or action would be taken. The other vessel replied that it was actually a light house and that the commander could do what he thought best. C found a copy of the joke which was written in dialog form. I had intended to read it as a story told to me by a fri

   I thought the garden was finished. We have several plants that come back year after year. (I can never remember if they are annuals or perennials.) We had cold temps in April and snow in May. There was no way that these plants could survive.    I depend on some of the plants coming back. I enjoy working in the garden, but I don't have the time to replant all of it every year. This is the reason why we have herbs in the food half of the garden and some flowers that come back every year in the flower half.   No way that was going to happen this year. The grape vine looked like a dry stick leaning against the trellis. The dried remains of the other plants lay in a tangled up mess. It was very depressing. I didn't know what I was going to replace the grapevine with. I did know that digging it up was going to be a mess.    The only bright spot was that the mock orange and lilac bushes were still alive. I knew the mock orange would most likely be all right. Someone had told m

    I collect certain things as a hobby. I don't like to admit it publicly because some people think that I am really a hoarder who won't admit that I have a problem. There is a clear distinction between one who hoards and one who collects. A collector has certain criteria that an object must meet before it will be acquired. The object must come from a certain artist, a certain time period or have other qualities determined by the collector. A collector also collects certain specific things.    I have several collections. I collect teapots and cups, mugs, postcards and refrigerator magnets. I used to collect pens, but had to stop when the drug reps stopped handing them out. It was a shame really. I got a lot of interesting shaped pens. Some of them worked well too.   The two collections I want to focus on today are fridge magnets and postcards. I don't have a lot of fancy criteria. You really can't when collecting two such common objects. My standards are simple. I

   Sometimes I have days where I sit down at the computer and my mind is a blank. I can't think of a single thing to write about. Then there are the days where I have several topics and I have to choose. There are also the "in-between" days. These are the days when I have several topics to choose from, but none of them are enough to make a whole column by themselves. Today I am going to write about two things that happened this week. They have no relation to each other.    On Sunday I was going to start another knitting project. I had finished two washcloths and was going to knit a set of coasters from some brightly coloured yarn. The first thing a knitter has to do is to cast on the first row of stitches. The first thing that needs to be done is to make a slipknot. Then the rest of the stitches can be cast on.    My knitting teacher taught me how to make a slipknot. The trouble was I couldn't remember how she did it. I worked with the thread a little bit. It was

   Last Wednesday was Stepmother's Day. It's an unknown holiday. There is a little disagreement on what day it falls on. Some sources that it is the Sunday after Mother's Day. Other sources list it as May 1. Since I'm really bad at keeping track of holidays with floating dates, we celebrate it on May 1.    I started acknowledging Stepmother's Day a few years ago. At church, on Mother's Day,women are given small  presents and are honored on that day. I would usually demur. I don't have children, I have stepchildren. It didn't feel right to "intrude" on a day meant to honor those women who do have children. I like Stepmother's Day because it honors those of us who aquired children by marriage without offending those women who gave birth or adopted their children.    Step parenting has its own challenges. Part of the challenge is the stereotype that stepparents, especially stepmothers, are mean. Don't believe me? Let me ask you a quest

   Saturday night C and I attended "Snapshots". This was the last time that Carrie and her 19 classmates will perform together as a company. Carrie will be graduating from college in a few weeks. I know at this point I'm supposed to say that it's gone by so fast. I'm supposed to say that it seems like it was just yesterday that I made her a ham sandwich before C and I drove her to her first day of collage classes. I may be in the minority here, but it feels like four years to me.    Four years ago C and I watched "Fresh Scenes". This (I think I'm right about this) was first time Carrie's company performed. Fresh Scenes were a series of scenes from plays. Earlier that school year the students were required to interview someone and then to present a piece based and the interview where they acted like that person. Carrie interviewed the grandmother of the guy she was dating at the time. She did a good job portraying her. I remember that she borro