Wordless Wednesday

Can you guess what it is?

*afternoon Edit*

Any of you who guessed Broccoli are entirely correct. It was, indeed, what was left after I removed the "tree's" from it. I thought it looked pretty cool.

not a morning person

Its 0540.

In the morning.

It's still dark outside,

and I didn't work last night.

Why am I up?

Because my brain hasn't gotten the memo, obviously, that I am NOT a morning person. 

I love sleep. I think most of us do. But I am a champion sleeper. Or at least I used to be. Especially as a kid. I could nap, upside down, sideways, standing up. And I could sleep through anything. Someone once threw a set of keys at me when I was asleep on a couch and I didn't even flinch.

The Navy ruined a lot of that for me. Boot camp was a serious trial, and not because of all the sweating (it was Florida) yelling and other general BS.

It was because every morning, and sometimes in the middle of the night, the bright, fluorescent lights would turn on, and someone would begin yelling "on the line!" at us, and we would have one minute to be standing on a line, in front of our bunks, at attention, with our heads turned to the left. To make matters worse, we then had to count off, turning our head when it was our turn to scream our number. This required thought, and my sleep deprived brain and body HATED that. I don't want to think for at least an hour after I have gotten out of bed.

Things progressed rapidly after that. I managed to survive boot camp, and go out into the fleet. Those early mornings don't go away, either on Tugboat shore duty, or on a miserable ship. On the ship, for a long stretch of time, we were standing watch every four hours. Which meant no one got more than 4 hours of sleep a night. Because you couldn't make up for that during the day. I got so sleep deprived I got sick, and nearly fell down a flight of stairs. 

Getting out of the Navy didn't fix me. For better or worse, my sleep pattern was ruined. I could, and cannot any longer sleep that deep, good sleep where someone can bounce keys off my head. I am grown now, with an adult job, and adult responsibilities, and, like it or not, if I am awake, too long, my brain starts to work, despite my body's protest of it being too freaking early!

Today is one of those days. So. 0540. I've been awake since MM left for work.

Working nights adds fuel to the flame, but, I've always been a night owl. I am usually cranky, or quiet, or both when forced out of bed in the mornings, and forced into the company of people I didn't choose to be around. My mom knows very well how bitchy I can be in the mornings. She dealt with it for years. 

Whats the point of this rambling blogpost?

I don't know. Probably that I am awake at this time of morning, and I don't really want to be.

Anyone else out there awake?

Monday Monday

Easter is coming, and this is Spring Break. MG is down visiting her Mom for the week, and I find myself in a quiet house, no teenager, and the constant button pushing that is texting is absent from the air. The talk of who is dating who, who did what to whom, and who is going to something to the other is falling on other ears than my own, or her father's. 

Have no fear, though, we will make up a weeks time in one quick afternoon next Saturday. And I have plenty to do this week, to get ready for new floors (tired of hearing that, yet?) and for Easter. We are going to middle sister's house this year.

I am, apparently, making a Pie (or two) and as usual. Pulla. 

Cami, my lovely cousin, has waxed on poetic many times about Pulla. She makes it whenever she wants it. There is nothing wrong with that, at all. I happen to make it only at Easter time, which is when it was traditionally served. My fear is that if I eat it too often, it won't, somehow, taste as good, or be as special. So, Easter it is. This week is my week to make Pulla. And, unlike Cami, I don't have a bread machine to make it rise. I do it the 'old' way.

So, off I go, into Betty Crocker land. First, though, I gotta figure out what kind of pie my father wants....

Short Story Saturday

its been awhile. Lets see what I can do....

     The azure blue sky was dotted with white, fluffy clouds that, upon inspection from the ground, closely resembled sheep. The man wasn't on the ground, however, he was in his favorite 2 seat plane, nicknamed 'Jenny'. Why Jenny? He wasn't sure. The name just seemed to suit her.

     Checking his gauges, he was satisfied with the altitude he had gained, with the amount of fuel he had left, and the quiet hum of a sweet running plane. 

     He'd started flying for practical reasons. It had cut down very much on his driving time when he needed to take his daughter back to her mother. It also made family vacation commute times much, much shorter. But the flying became a solace to him. A quiet place, where he could be up in the sky, with himself, and his thoughts. Where no one was asking him for something. Where his cell phone didn't ring. He was alone, and blessedly so.

     It wasn't that he didn't love his family. He valued every minute he spent with them. But these moments alone, they made him a better man. These moments made it easier, somehow, for him to be a part of things on the ground. The time he spent alone in the sky balanced him.

     Adjusting his sunglasses, he looked around, admiring the view from above. He was above farmland, now, different patches of crops adorned in their spring colors, looking like a colorful crazy quilt on the ground. Dotted here and there, looking like industrial ants scurrying about, were the farmers themselves, usually driving a piece of heavy equipment. One or two of them would stop and look up at him, if he ventured down close enough to get their attention. He seldom did, preferring to be in the arms of the sky, not flirting with the ground below. He did enjoy flying low when he came across a pasture filled with sheep, though. For some reason, watching them all run madly at the sight of his plane always made him chuckle. He could imagine their angry bleats. Plus, it was good practice for the possibility of an emergency landing, which, knock on wood, he'd never had to do, yet.

     Looking out over the horizon,  he could see nothing but sunshine, and fluff ball clouds. It was a bit windy today, and the clouds were sailing through the sky, looking for their destination. At times, he envied them. Always up in the atmosphere, in the quiet. But when that thought crossed his mind, he thought of all the happy noises on the ground he would miss, were he always skybound. He stopped to consider this thought, wondering "If I were always in the sky, would I want to go to the ground for a time out? Would the land help me find my balance?" he wondered if birds felt that way. Then, he shook his head at his foolishness, laughing a little bit to himself. "I'm getting silly with altitude" he thought. 

     Seeing a pasture filled with sheep, he banked, swung around, and made them run. Too late, he saw the farmer and the herding dogs, the farmer looking up at the sky, shaking his head, and, if his vision served him, shaking a fist at him. The dogs, though, looked overjoyed at the scattered flock, darting to and fro, gathering up their bleating targets. "Sorry" he muttered in the direction of the farmer, and, tilting upward, began to climb again.

       "That will make a fun story for the dinner table, though" he thought, and laughed out loud. Thinking of the table made him think of his family, at home. Suddenly, he missed them. He wanted to be with them. His time of solitude now seemed oppressive. Turning, he faced his plane towards home, balanced again.

     The farmer watched the plane leave, and sighed. "Wish I knew how to fly" he thought, as he brought his bandanna up over his face to protect it from the dust and stench of his still running sheep.

Friday Mieography

How about some controversy?

Born in Los Angeles, the daughter of two Japanese immigrants, Ive Ikuko Toguri was raised as a Methodist, and was a girl scout. She was fully raised in the United States, and graduated from University of California, Los Angeles, with a degree in Zoology. She worked in a shop her parents owned.

     In 1941, she sailed to Japan, to visit an ailing relative, and begin the study of medicine. Because she didn't have a passport, she was given a Certificate of Identification. She applied for a passport, in Sept. of 1941, as she was ready to come home. She didn't get an answer in time, and the attack on Pearl Harbor happened.

     The Japanese government rounded up the American's in Japan at that time, and pressured them to renounce their American citizenship. She refused. Since she did, she was declared and enemy alien, and the government would not issue her a war ration card. She found work as a typist at a Japanese news agency, and eventually, a typist at Radio Tokyo.

     In 1943, she, and other allied prisoners of war were forced to broadcast propaganda. Her show was called "The Zero Hour". She had been previously smuggling food into the POW camp, and initially refused to broadcast. She was reassured by other POW's that she would not have to say anything against the US. She hosted 340 broadcasts, and is the name now most associated with the moniker "Tokyo Rose". (many other Tokyo Rose's were out there, in similar conditions).

     She had the stage name "ann" (for announcer) and sometimes, Orphan Anne, and "your favorite enemy Anne", and mainly performed comedy sketches, and introduced music. She made 7 dollars a month, and continued to smuggle food to the POW's. In 1945, she married a Portugese citizen of Japanese-Portugese decent, but reused to take his citizenship.

     Ater Japan surrendered, she was arrested in Yokohama, Japan, trying to get money to get home. She spent a year in jail, and was released when no evidence could be provided that she had aided the Japanese Axis forces. She had been pregnant, and desperate to get home. She had the baby in Japan, and it died. She was re- arrested, and transported to San Francisco, where she was charged by the Fed's with treason.

     Her trial was very long, cost more than a half million dollars, and included 46 witnesses against her. She was found guilty on only one count, and given a stiff fine, and a ten year prison sentence. She was paroled after 6 years, 2 months, for good behavior.

     She resisted deportation, and moved to Chicago, where her father had opened a Mercantile Company. She worked there until 2006, when she died, pretty much forgotten. She never saw her husband again, as he was barred from ever coming to the US. They divorced after 30 years of forced separation.

    It was discovered, during an investigation piece by a Chicago reporter that the two witnesses who delivered the most damaging testimony against her had lied under oath. They stated that they had been threatened by the FBI and told what to say hours before the trial. President Ford granted her a full unconditional pardon in 1977, supported unamimously on both sides o the houses. She was restored her American Citizenship, which had been abrogated because of her conviction. She died at 90, of natural causes.

Of course, the controversy is whether or not she was guilty of treason. Some are unconvinced that she could have been forced to broadcast, others, believe her. What do you think?

Thursday 13

I've been putting things away, in preparation to move all our stuff OUT for the new floors (yay!) And thought I would show you 13 of the little pewter figures that live on our book cases. For those of you that remember, these are the little guys that I found, and got excited over while I was unpacking MM's boxes last year.

what you can't see here, is that the wizard has a snow globe of it's own, with a dragon inside. I love this.

who wouldn't want to read a book on top of a tortoise?

as usual, for other Thursday 13 participants, go here

Wordless Wednesday