Janet's Blog

In high schools and colleges all over the country, hundreds of thousands of newly-minted seniors are rejoicing in their long-awaited status.  Finally, they have reached the pinnacle of their education; king of the hill, top of the heap, whatever you call it, they have reached a major goal in their lives.  Seniors, at last! On the other end of the spectrum, those of us who first attained senior status a few decades ago are approaching senior status of another kind.  A few may be rejoicing at the thought of impending retirement from jobs that have become drudgery.  Some look forward to extra time with grandchildren or the chance to travel to previously unknown locales.  But some us are feeling more than a little confused.  When does senior status begin, anyway? When I'm asked by some teenage checker in a restaurant or grocery store if I qualify for the senior discount, I'm forced to ask that question:  "How old must I be to be considered a senior?" ...

I love chickens!  From those cute, fluffy, yellow baby chicks, to plump Barred Rock and Rhode Island Red hens, to those strutting roosters with their iridescent tail feathers waving in the breeze--I love them all.  It must be hereditary--Dad loves them, too. Maybe I need one of these exotics! A tired Rhode Island Red hen  I enjoyed walking with Levi and Victoria through the small animal barn at the Scotts Bluff County Fair last week.  The rabbits were cute and cuddly, all except the Flemish Giants, which were just big.  I wouldn't mind having another mini-lop or Netherlands dwarf, like Meagan raised for 4H several years ago.  Levi might be ready for a rabbit of his own by next summer--we'll see. But, we were surprised to find that the chickens seemed to be the stars of the small animal entries, since they greatly outnumbered the rabbits at the fair this year.  And they were beautiful, award-winning examples of poultry, from standard ba...

I was twelve when I told Mom, out of the blue, that I wanted a guitar for Christmas.  I really don't remember longing for a guitar, or even giving it much thought, and I didn't really expect to receive one, but there it was, all wrapped up under the tree.  It was a small, red, beginner's guitar, most likely purchased from the Sears catalog.  For weeks, I sat on my bed, teaching myself to play the chords from the pamphlet of songs that came with the guitar.  I don't remember ever working so hard to learn a new skill--I certainly never put forth that much effort when it came to practicing the piano.  It wasn't long before Mom decided to pay for guitar lessons.  I don't know if my old piano teacher knew how to play the guitar--I doubt it--but she did know how to teach music, and I was diligent about practicing.  I learned the notes well.  (Not too many guitarists can say that.)  I learned many chords, and learned to finger pick in the classica...