Earworms and Pretoria by Liz Flaherty

Have you ever given thought to how an earworm gets created? I know, you hear something and it won't go away, but sometimes it has an identifiable process. Stick with me here. Not because I know what I'm talking about but because I depend on you to say, "Yeah, like that..."

I've been working on this post the past few days, writing the prologue up there so you can be thinking about who next week's business should be. Trying to think of something to write that's...you know, interesting. And I realized February had passed. 

It's already March. March first, as a matter of fact, when I'm writing this. This is the day I look forward to all the way through January and February--not wishing my life away, just thinking about things being green and smelling good and lady bugs taking over my office. 

March.

March has some joys for me. One of my brothers' birthdays was in March. One daughter-in-law and two grandkids were born in March. The grands' birthdays are three days apart and I have to look up which day is Tierney's and which one is Fionnegan's because I can never remember. This is part of the aging process, of time marching on. 

Marching...

Fionn plays trumpet and has played it in marching band from time to time. Years ago, one of my brothers played the base drum in the marching band at Gilead. I don't remember Tom doing that, but there were pictures of him...

Marching...

I was thinking, apropos (isn't that a cool word? I love having the chance to use it) of nothing, of the town of Peoria, Indiana, and recalling that Peoria Church and Peoria Cemetery had been moved when the dam was built. I think. It's a pretty church. 

Peoria. 

Years ago, on the Smothers Brothers Show, they sang a song about Peoria. 

Peoria?

Or Pretoria? 

We are marching to Pretoria...Pretoria...Pretoria...we are marching to Pretoria. Pretoria today...

The words aren't exactly right (I looked them up, too), but there you have the creation of an earworm. Right or not, I have sung them--even a few times aloud--over and over this morning. All because I'm writing this on the first of March. Which came in like a lamb, thank you very much. 

A lamb. A lion.

In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight...

Have a great week. Be nice to somebody. 

I haven't done this in a while, and I don't really know why I stopped--because it was fun. I'd like to do a business of the week. I will start with ones I use a lot--or wish I did. If you own a business, run one, or have one you'd like me to spotlight, leave me a message. We'll see how it works out! The first post is from Cathy Zehring--thanks for being here, Cathy! I hope you'll spread the word. Feel free to PM me or email me at lizkflaherty @ gmail.com (no spaces) with suggestions or requests. Thank you!

Cathy Zehring's in the beauty business. She loves helping other women feel good about themselves.

Catch up with her at https://www.facebook.com/groups/1008324986190495/?ref=share_group_link to find out all about Cathy's Box of Beauty. 

Hope and Other Good Things by Liz Flaherty

Continuing with hope...and other good things... Kind of busy this week, so bear with me while I this and that it for a little while--at least until the pie is done and I have to get the brownies into the oven.

Today, between five and eight PM, if you're not busy, ride out to the corner of 1100 N and Meridian Road for a sandwich, a piece of pie, and some homemade ice cream. Try a couple of flavors, because Ebenezer UM Church's Ice Cream Social only comes once a year! Free will donation and a bake sale right there when you come in the door!

Tomorrow, head south, where Peoria Church is having their ice cream social at 4:00. Three Old Guys are playing music while you eat and talk on the church's beautiful grounds. I haven't been there yet, so I can't recite their menu, but the address is 5575 E 325 S, Peru. 

One night this week, I got to attend the meeting of the book group my daughter-in-law Laura is part of. They'd read Window Over the Sink, which was pretty exciting in itself, but it was also several hours of some of the best food and the best conversation! 

Two of our grandboys, Skyler and Shea, had birthdays this week. Although they were six and five only a few days ago, they're 26 and 25 now. Skyler, with his parents there to watch, was promoted to First Lieutenant on his birthday, Our grandgirl, Tierney, got engaged this summer. Fionn is getting ready to go to Ball State. 

Someone else's granddaughter mows a nearby churchyard and cemetery every week. She's never late and she does a great job. Someone else's granddaughter sells eggs. Grandkids of the people who lived in our neighborhood when we moved to our house 45 years ago are homeowners here now. The neighborhood is better for them being here. I'm grateful.

A young woman who lives close shared this on Facebook. I've seen it before, but it's a great reminder. I don't think she'll mind me posting it here. 

You read and hear a lot of complaining about "these kids today," just as you always have. I am so grateful for them and proud of them. Not just ours, but yours, too. They think, they work, they're hilarious, they're caring, and they give me hope that things will be better. 

The sun has come up through the east window and the bob-whites are talking a mile a minute. Wishing you a great week. I hope you go eat ice cream and talk to your neighbors. Be nice to somebody. 

Liz 🌟

Making Memories by Liz Flaherty

I cut up oranges for the orioles and put out sugar water for hummingbirds. I have thistle seed hanging for finches--although I don't have any finches; do you? We buy suet cakes by the boxful and put them out most of the year. Because I've aged into watching birds, I don't mind this, but I'm looking out at the side yard right now and although the grass was recently cut and looks velvety beautiful, there are a million dandelion stems sticking up out of it. 

So, my question is, why don't birds like dandelion stems? It would be so handy if they did, not to mention cheap. Of course, if they liked them, there would end up being a politically motivated shortage of them and they'd no longer be either handy or cheap. 

A week ago Friday, our granddaughter, who lives in Texas, and her boyfriend, who lives in Kentucky, stopped in Peru on their way to Chicago to a wedding. We spent two hours with them eating B & K hot dogs and filling our grandparent hearts with love and laughter and hugs that filled all the right spaces. 

Today's Second Saturday and the Visual Arts Festival downtown Peru. The schedule's below and there are events all day long, including both visual arts and music. Artists in every medium appreciate your support. 

It's been a nice kind of week, hasn't it? The sun has shone and it hasn't rained for several days. The breeze has been just that--a breeze, as opposed to gale-force winds. According to my phone, all that stands to change today, but I'm thankful for the days past. Of course, I was complaining about the heat the minute the temperature climbed relentlessly into the 80s. No one listened when I complained, but I didn't let a little thing like that stop me.

This is also garage sale weekend, especially including the community one at the fairgrounds. 

If you've been through Denver, you know State Road 16 is...interesting...right now. But the baseball park is more so. I love going through there--very slowly!--because it's fun to see the boys of girls of summer out there. The parking lot is filled and then some every game night, and DeAngelo's is brightly lit and busy. In days when I so often feel as if absolutely nothing is the way it used to be (or as good as it used to be) seeing that crowded, happy place most definitely is. 

While I think all the years of your life are the best ones, none of them are any better than the ones you spend sitting on bleachers. Whether you're watching sports, listening to music, or cheering on a quiz bowl, those hours become beloved memories.

I'm rambling today. Sometimes thoughts come together and sometimes they don't. The "don't" happens to all writers, I'm sure, but the smarter ones probably keep it to themselves. Yeah, well... 

Tomorrow, we're going to sit on some lawn chairs and watch a grandboy play soccer. It'll be like bleachers days, making memories. I hope you have a good week. Be nice to somebody. - Liz 

 

Keep Hunting by Liz Flaherty

Sometimes you just have nice things happen. Isn't it great when they do? Yeah, I'm going to do the Pollyanna thing again. And, please, feel free to join in. I've read recently that blogs are dead--please, no!--and I don't think they are, but commenting isn't very healthy anymore. I miss that. But, anyway...Pollyanna...

On Thursday night, we went to Ole Olsen and saw Drinking Habits in the dinner theater performance. We got to sit with friends, catch up with friends we hadn't seen for a long time, eat a delicious meal from Club 14 and laugh so hard that my stomach hurt. (That could have been the turtle cheesecake on top of that delicious meal I just mentioned, but I'm not going to admit that.) 

The play will be on tomorrow and next Friday, Saturday, and Sunday (matinee). If you don't have your tickets yet, call 765-472-3690 and leave a message or go to https://www.onthestage.tickets/ole-olsen-memorial-theatre Don't miss it...don't even be late. I was singing that right there--did you hear me? No? You're welcome.

Then, last night, my daughter Kari and I went to Beef & Boards in Indianapolis and saw Hello, Dolly. Even without me singing along (I think they were okay with that--what is it with people and my singing?), the cast did a great job. Once again, the food was good and the service was great. We made new friends at the table next to us and someone thought Kari and I were sisters. I mean, maybe they didn't really think that, but I accepted it gracefully anyway.

One day this week, it was 70-some degrees, the kind of warmth that sits gently on your skin and lets hope dance around your soul. Admittedly, the wind blew that warmth all over the place, but it still felt good. Still smelled good. Still made me think spring really is here somewhere, greening up the grass and inviting color to pop joyfully out of the ground. 

Three of our grandkids have had birthdays in the past 10 days--one of them is today. Their birthdays always make me think of them when they were little--Tierney only a few weeks old napping on Duane's chest and them snoring together; Fionnegan at five in Ireland, laughing so hard when he and his dad jumped out from behind a post; Eamon not yet old enough to walk, solemn-faced, bobbing his head with the music. The joy of those memories makes my eyes a little leaky but my heart so glad.

On Facebook, I saw where two scared little boys knocked on someone's door and received the kind of help frightened children everywhere should get without even asking. It would be better if children weren't frightened at all, but when they are...when they are...we need to fix it. My thanks as a nana to the person who protected them.

Sunrise was orange this morning. The colors in the sky are so amazing this year. I think I probably say that every spring, but this time, I really mean it. And next time, I will mean it even more.  

There is much to mourn in the world, much to generate anger (and many to proliferate it avidly), much to create the sadness that does its best to squash that dancing hope. 

But there's still the orange, still glorious music, still stomach-wrenching laughter, still people who protect children. As Eleanor H. Porter wrote in Pollyanna, “... there is something about everything that you can be glad about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.”

Be glad this week. Seek out the orange, thank the givers and the doers, sing along (it's Brandi Carlile and me this morning--I think she's probably a little better), laugh hard, find the joy. Be nice to somebody.

Real Life by Liz Flaherty

I will admit to being the poster child for too much Facebook. While I don't watch much TV and hardly any movies or play video games and I'm not--I don't think--addicted to my phone, I spend a lot of time in front of a computer screen. In my defense, much of the time is spent working. (As much as I love writing books and essays, yes, it is work.) However, when I need to break away from rewriting a scene for the third time because it didn't work the first two and the third isn't looking hopeful, either, Green Mountain Nantucket Blend and Facebook are my "drugs" of choice. 

So far, not a problem, right? No, the problem happens when Facebook or other social media become your reality. When unconscionable rudeness becomes the people who are doing it instead just ugly things on a screen. When people unfriend you because of your political stance or you do the same to them. When they repeat things because they're funny without thought to them not being true. When cruelty is the rule of the day and so many people, only some of them bots or trolls, claim some kind of invincibility because...well, I don't know why. 

Because when you meet them somewhere in person, they're almost always polite. They ask how you are, how the family is. They hold the door for you. They don't hoard toilet paper, harangue you about your faith or lack of it, or call you by anything but your name. (Yeah, I know, I know...I beat that horse to death and it still won't go down.)

I've written this to remind myself. Am I going to give up Facebook? Nope. It's how I keep up with people I never see, how I know everyone in the world but me is good at Wordle, how I promote books. It's where I read wonderful quotes I might have missed otherwise, look at adorable cat pictures, and talk to other writers. It's where I share pictures of my grandkids--who are all so amazing! Have I told you...

There's such fun to be had on social media, so many things to learn. But, at the end of the day, it's not real life--it's just a screenshot taken out of context. 

Real life for me lately has been reading to Head Start kids at Elmwood. It's unbelievable how much cuteness can be contained in a classroom, isn't it? 

Real life has been neighbors and friends doing snow removal from our driveway.

Real life has been patching blue jeans for a grandson and a nephew and thinking about them while I do it. These kids today are fabulous and funny people, you know it? You parents and teachers have done such a great job. That's the reality, not what you see on Facebook. 

Real life has been arguing with my husband one minute and laughing the next. When you see a 50-year anniversary meme of a beaming couple, know it hasn't all been beaming--it's been scowling and shouting sometimes, too, and that's how it's lasted. That's why they're strong. 

Photo by J. Koons Craft

Real life is people like Steve Hagan, who's retiring from Denver's grocery store today after working there, I swear, since infancy. The store doesn't belong to his family anymore, but it will always be Hagan's to me. Steve's been putting out fires--both literally and figuratively--for as long as I've known him. He is the embodiment of a generous spirit. 

Real life is people like Mary and Katie Day, Anita Lynn, Sarah and Ron Luginbill, Conny at the breadshop, Joe DeRozier and a slew of others who lend richness to their downtown. Where instead of saying, "there's nothing here," you can open your eyes and ears and find out there really is. 

Real life is doing the best you can with every single day, no matter what Facebook says. It's laughing at jokes that don't hurt anyone, singing even if you can't carry a tune, and crying not just over your own losses but over your neighbor's too. 

Scattered as usual, with apologies, I'll end this now. Have a great week, don't spend too much time on Facebook, and be nice to somebody.