Janet's Blog

It's been about three weeks now since I got my new car. Well, actually, it's a 2016 Dodge Journey--new to me--with only 32,000 miles on it. It looks new, inside and out--I should probably thank the previous owner for taking such good care of it-- and it smells new, probably thanks to the "new car spray" that car dealerships are rumored to use. I've been researching cars for several months, mainly because my grandkids have outgrown the Jag that Bill got such a good deal on, more than nine years ago. He was a little sad to trade in the Jag, but I'm ready for a car that provides the space and reliability that my 14-year-old car just couldn't deliver. My new car is defined as a "crossover" vehicle, with a third row of comfortable seats that fold down easily when they are not needed, so I will have plenty of room for the grandkids and their car seats. And did I mention that the Journey is red? Years ago, when Bill and I lived in Michigan, we bou

The view from Mom and Dad's dining room window varies from season to season, but some things never change. The trees are always there, sometimes fully leafed out, but mostly bare in the winter--except for the one oak tree that Mom says should have been planted someplace else. No one realized that that particular variety of oak wouldn't lose its leaves until spring, thus blocking the winter-time view. But, regardless, one other thing doesn't change: the birds are always there in the backyard. Oh, the varieties change according to season, and some birds, like the gold finches and grosbeaks, only make an appearance during spring and fall migration. But the view from the dining room window is always interesting , and sometimes downright breathtaking when the sun is setting there, in the western sky. The chickadees and nuthatches flock around the feeders, especially in the winter when Dad puts out multiple feeders with several kinds of seeds, so every kind of bird w

Sidewalks, streets, and houses: all  towns have them. Here in Gering, most of the streets are asphalt, and the concrete sidewalks butt right up to the curb, most of the time, with no grassy area between. Here, the houses are a mixture of small bungalows, tinier cottages, and ranch style homes of all sizes. I'm used to it now, but I used to think it was strange. You see, I grew up in the other end of the state, in Fairbury, from the time I was nine until I headed off to college. And there, in Fairbury, streets and sidewalks, and even houses, were a little different. For starters, many of the streets, in all but the newest sections of town, were made of red brick, laid closely together without mortar, so they were easy to remove and replace if the sewer pipes running under the streets needed attention. Brick streets don't really develop potholes, but if the bricks start to settle in one spot or another, it is relatively easy to dig them out and level them. I walked on Fai