Michigan's Republican Primary

It is the big day for Romney and Santorum to finally face off in Michigan. Every evening when we return home there are at least a half dozen robo-calls among our messages. What a relief tomorrow will be (Leap Day 2012)! I just noticed this little piece on Romney. I'd seen the quote before, but this time it has a commentary at the end that is just too funny. We all thought George W had issues with word-speak. Now here's Romney following suit. (It is, however, comforting to know that amid all the other problems Michigan is enduring, at least our trees are the right height.)

There’s awkward, and then there’s Mitt Romney. He speaks English fluently. Conversational English?. . .In November, the scope of Mitt Romney’s awkward remarks was wider still, including things like grass color: “Everything seems right here. You know, I come back to Michigan; the trees are the right height. The grass is the right color for this time of year, kind of a brownish-greenish sort of thing. It just feels right."

What? Kind of a brownish-greenish sort of thing? In general, when you find yourself in kind of a brownish-greenish sort of thing, stop walking and clean off your shoe.

Hello, My German Friends!

It's interesting to every now and then check the stats on my blogs. I notice that both yesterday and today I have gotten more than fifty views from Germany. Who are you? I'd be delighted to learn that some of my Stellrecht kin are checking in on me. My late father is Percy. His father Christian Stellrecht emigrated from Germany to Wisconsin (going by way of Iowa, I think) sometime around 1900. I was in Germany several years ago and felt a sense of being and knowing that I have not felt elsewhere. I recently copied into a file the song lyrics for Bobby Helms' 1957 #1 hit "Fraulein." I was a dreamy 12-year-old, and it was my favorite pop song. It begins with the words: "Far across deep blue waters, Lives an old German's daughter, By the banks of the old river Rhine," and ends with "You are my pretty Fraulein." What memories that song carries---a plain ordinary-looking farm girl, dreaming someone will one day claim her as his pretty Fraulein.

Farewell Florida

Our five-day February fling in Florida is coming to a close---must be out of the room by noon. We will make one last stop across the causeway to Sanibel and Captiva islands, visiting the Ding Darling National Wildlife Preserve on the way. Yesterday Kayla and I, with John as chauffeur, enjoyed a shopping spree at the Fort Myers Flea Market. We went our separate ways, with me, as always, making purchases for Carlton Gardens. Here she is in a little dress she purchased for $7. I am now her self-appointed official photographer. What a sweetheart she is! She'll be sixteen in June---with a driver's license.

Fort Myers, Florida

We're enjoying the warm sunshine in Florida, staying at the same place that we've stayed at for more than twenty years, Carlton and Kayla with us as usual, Kayla having flown down so as to miss only one day of school. We're here for 4 days, planning to head out on Monday afternoon. Today we drove across the causeway to Sanibel Island where we did our traditional biking, hiking and picnicking. Here is a picture from out our 2nd-story motel deck just a few minutes ago.

Where is the Birth Certificate?

We’re leaving Macon, Georgia, heading for Florida. Less than a half hour south on Interstate 75, we see a giant billboard: Where is the Birth Certificate? I had my laptop out, so I wrote this little response:

Behold, he came into the world and the world knew him not. Where is your birth certificate, the people demand. And he said unto them Woe unto you. I have no birth certificate. I am not born of a woman. Yea, as Adam and Eve were not born, I am not born. And they said unto him, forsooth. But you are a socialist. You feed the hungry and clothe the poor. He knelt down on the ground and wrote in the sand: Woe, woe, woe unto you---you rich Republicans. And he went across the sea in a boat.

St. Joseph in Macon, Georgia

So we're driving south on Hwy 75 and decide to spend Valentine's night in Macon. I've been working on my book, computer on my lap, all day---working on Joseph (husband of Mary). We get into downtown Macon and what do we see but an incredibly beautiful church: St. Joseph's Catholic Church. The front doors are locked so we slip around to the side and discover that we are in the middle of a Latin Mass, with no way of escape. So we sit through to the end. 

On the way out we inquire about in-town lodging, preferably an old hotel. Turns out the only one is very pricey---well over $200, they say. We stop by just to see what such a fancy place is like. The owner meets us at the door, thinking we are reserved guests. When she realizes we are poor folks coming through from Michigan, she offers us a room for $149. Hey, it's Valentine's Day, so here we are at the 1842 Inn--not the address but the year it was established! We've just enjoyed some wonderful 

hors d'oeuvres and are headed for a walk around town.

Miseries of Writing

Last week I received in the mail a package from Amazon containing a Homedics NMS-350 Shiatsu Neck Massager (complete with vibration and heat) that I had ordered. It cost just under $30, no shipping charge. It helps but doesn’t entirely solve the problem. I have terrible neck pain when I sit at the computer writing for more than fifteen minutes at a time. Since I have an excessively low attention span, I don’t often sit that long unless John is having me enter the corrections he’s made from my printed copy. He does find a lot of errors and I always fear that some he misses will make it through to the published book. I do have an excuse, however. When asked about the errors, I’ll simply say that I ought not be held responsible---that pain leads to carelessness and writing a book is a pain in the neck.

A Treasure of a Mother-in-Law----AND husband!

Last night when we were visiting Mom at the nursing home, I snapped this picture. She and John were enjoying some real hilarity over an article in the Grand Rapids Press---either that or staged to look like they were. Mom is headed for 97, losing short-term memory but not her quips and come-backs. One of her most frequent lines is, I have no complaints. She's always in a good mood and everyone loves her.