My friend from high-school, Suzanne, is going to stay all night with me tonight.  It will be fun to visit with someone from the same era.

I’ve been shocked at the generations since then who know nothing about the conditions of Americans who lived during WW2.  But in their defense, I know very little about WW1.  Just what I have read.

 I know that paregoric was legal (narcotic) because my great uncle fought in the war and told us that soldiers with bad teeth were given the drug to rub on their gums to ease the pain. Many came back addicted, and it was legal to buy over the counter.  That’s it.  That’s what I know.

I won’t be posting again until Monday.  

We are under water.  And it is going to rain for two or three more days.  Good news is that I could turn my sprinkler system off.  Water rates here are really high.  In Pryor, they were very, very low.  I got spoiled.

W.A. Graham, a bachelor who was a zillionaire--or mill, or bill--left his wealth to Pryor, Oklahoma.  After the lawyers got through fighting over what he meant, there was still enough left for the city to buy most of their own utilities.

When you couple that with the Mid-American Industrial complex south of the town, (built in WW2 and ceded to the state by the feds) the town was rated as one of three of the cheapest places to live in the U.S. by Parade Mag.  (I think it was Parade...)

Sometimes when both my daughters are working and I need some help, someone to drive me for a procedure, I wonder why I moved to Edmond.  It is the most expensive per-capita berg in Oklahoma.

But then, if it is an emergency, they come to my rescue.  And I have friends who help.  And it is a lovely place to live.  But...I miss home.  I miss Pryor.  Every now and then I threaten to move back.  

Edmond is drowning.  I understand Miami and Vinita have gotten twelve inches.  It’s better than the hot weather of 100+ last week.  I’m not complaining about the rain.  It’s been cool most of the months. 

My publisher never showed up.  No bound copy.  Why I expect her to, I don’t know.  I guess I am the eternal optimist.

The only problem with this much rain is the weeds are loving it.  Every time it lets up I pull a few, but the weeds are winning.  The grass loves it too, but Ruiz keeps that cut.  I make sure I have cold Dr. Pepper when he gets here for his crew.

I’ll say this for the Mexicans.  They work.  You can’t drive down a street in Edmond without seeing a group working for the city or caring for lawns and shrubs.  I haven’t seen any others--white, black or polka-dot, doing this work since I moved here.  One of them told me they work until they get a down payment for a house.  Then share it with two or three families until they get a down payment for another one.  “Eventually we get the first one paid for--and buy another one.  We help each other.”

I find that very inspiring.  Coming to America because you can work, and make a living as you make a future for your children.  (Legally of course.) 

My friend Jeanette Harder works as a cashier for my daughter’s estate sales.  Last Friday, she turned on the road where a waving sign was pointing in the direction of the sale, looking for a house numbered 2008.

It was unusual that there weren’t a lot of cars, but she had plenty of time, parked and walked in the back door of the house--noticing that none of the items on the tables were priced--which was very unusual.  

Two women greeted her in the hall.  “Why haven’t these things on the tables been priced,” Jeanette asked them  “Is this the estate sale?”

“No, we are having a tea party,” they answered.

“Please don’t call the police!  I’m supposed to be working the cash register at an estate sale--I’m not breaking and entering.”

“How lovely,” one of the ladies answered. “Would you like to stay for tea? Do they need help at the sale,” one of the ladies asked.  “I’ve always wanted to do that.”  She wrote her name on a piece of paper and handed it to Jeanette who fled the scene.

I’m glad they didn’t put my friend in jail for trespassing.  She had the right number of the house.  It was just on the wrong street. 

I’ve been bleeding money for the last few months.  Had to have a new air conditioner and heating unit.  A new instant hot water tank--the regular one stuck out in the garage so that I couldn’t get out from the car into the door of the house--so they put a flat instant heater up on the wall.

Then the metal window blinds were bent and wouldn’t work.  Had to replace them all.  And yesterday, I took my 2008 car in for a once-over and the bill came to $1700.  Then they called to tell me that there was oil in the spark plugs.  Another five-hundred and something.

That’s when I said enough.  The car isn’t worth that much.  He reconsidered and got the entire bill down to the original quote.  If it runs for six months, I’ll be ahead of a car payment.

I don’t drive that much.  Grocery store, get my hair done, and church.

Still---I am feeling like I need to put a finger in the leak in the dam.

It’s a good feeling to know that God is in charge.  I can’t think of anything else that will break down.  The appliances are all new from when I moved in.  “Every good and every perfect gift is from above--and cometh down from the Father of lights...in whom there is no variableness, neither shadow of turning.”   Which means it’s all okay. 

 Yesterday was a poor-pity-me day.  I kept wondering why I moved to Edmond.  It’s been four plus years and I have not broken very many walls of indifference yet.

Of course, in Pryor everyone knew my family “The Swans,” or Ken’s family “The Jacks.”  When you walked into a store or church or ball game, every one greeted you, said “How are you doing,” or something similar.  I had taught dozens of people in the church.  Everyone knew me.

Not here.  Nobody knows me.  You don’t know how important that is until you don’t have it.  You become an instant nobody.  Years of building a reputation go down the drain and you have to start all over.  And that is very, very hard when you are older.

You aren’t raising children so you don’t interface with other parents whose kids are playing soccer, football, or baseball.  Drama, choir, church, or anything else.  You have no common denominator to connect.

I learned everyone’s name in the department at my church.  Very few learned mine.  You really have to work at it and there doesn’t seem to be any reason for some people to do that.  They are just trying to hang in there themselves--ailments are all they can deal with.

But I have a new BFF.  Jeanette.  To go along with all my Pryor BFF’s.  It gives me hope.

 I get up every morning with thankful feelings.  It is a decision I have made.  I start by being thankful for my fingers not having arthritis.  I have it in my hips and back but not in my fingers!!  So I can type with no pain.  I don’t walk very well, but who cares! I can type.

I am thankful for running water, and hot water as well.  Light switches--my grandmother had kerosene lamps. (They smell bad.)  Every night you lit the lamps so you could see.  It’s probably why they went to bed when the sun went down.

Air conditioning!!  I used to sleep with my head on the edge of an open window just hoping there would be a breeze to cool me.  We had a water fans...they helped, but got everything wet.  The rotating fan blades picked up water and blew it in the room.

And in the winter, I don’t have to chop wood and build a fire.  Or head out to the back of the house in freezing weather to get to the out-house.  No toilet paper.  There was an old Sears Catalog.  And corn-cobs in a basket for you to use.  Now that is a truly unique experience!!!

Get up thankful.  There is so much to be thankful for.  We live in a country that has never been equaled.  Many have died to secure our freedom.  God has blessed up with so much that is good.