I know I told you in September I was going to do better about getting my monthly newsletters out. I lied.  I had the best intentions, but life decided there were other I needed to do. One of which is to work on my memory.
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Here is a little short one on Gracie, our smallest and youngest cat. If you ever come to the house you will never see her. Eleni Jordan from Parkview found her drinking from oily water in a car repair parking lot.  Gracie has been skittish all her life. She is mostly black with a little white on her face, chest and paws.  We call her the baby since she is only 12 years old. The others are 13.

Mystic has developed arthritis and diabetes. She has to get shot up twice a day.  She is doing pretty well with the diabetes, but the arthritis is in her hips and back legs. 

Figaro is still queen on the house.  She still gets her eyebrows rubbed every morning with her mini-moo.  I still sing "Moo River"  to her. 

Yes, I know.  I admit to being a little off center--like 179 degrees off center.

Here is Gracie's little story.
The Ghost Cat

​It was time for Gracie to visit the vet. She wasn't sick. I hadn't had her to the vet in 3 years. Since I had to take Mystic, the diabetic princess, and Figaro, the ornery queen of the house, I decided I'd let them check her over.

She decided they would not check her over!
Gracie was not told she was going to the vet. The words “vet” and “doctor” were not even spoken in the house. The carrier wasn’t brought in so she wouldn’t be forewarned.

We searched the house over.

There was no hiding place left unturned. We combed the upstairs, the downstairs, and found every dust bunny which had been hiding from us. But no Gracie.

We crawled on the floor, lifted bedspreads, and checked every chair in the house. No Gracie.

Special treats were brought out and placed in her favorite spots. Mystic came and ate, but no Gracie.

Catnip was sprayed in her box under the desk where she loves to lay. No Gracie.

After thirty minutes of searching and not finding this little six pound cat, I gave up. 

As soon as I called the vet and canceled our appointment she came out of hiding.

The receptionist asked if I wanted to reschedule. So I made another appointment.

Appointment two came along. Gracie was laying at my feet. Normally if I would stand she would remain sleeping in her box under the desk. Normally.

I stood up. I looked down. NO cat. Just a whiff of black fluff floating in the air. 

I searched the house for twenty minutes. I knew I didn’t have time to make the appointment so I called the veterinarian’s office to cancel and reschedule the visit.

I hung up the phone and turned around. There she sat, looking sweetly at me. I knew she was thinking “Gotcha again. No travel in my plans, Mama.”

This morning was the third appointment I had made for Gracie. She came into the bathroom and wanted to have the water faucet turned on so she could drink. I did that. 

She wanted to be combed. I did that.

I fed her. She wanted to rub against my legs.

At 9:45 am she was laying under the desk. At 9:46 she was gone. No one moved. No one breathed the word “vet.” She just vanished.

The Vet’s receptionist didn’t even ask if I wanted to reschedule. I guess the third time was it.

Gracie the Ghost Cat.

I have no idea how Dawn became Pussum Cat. I think James was trying to say Pussy Cat and it came out that way. Anyway, Dawn was mostly called Pussum. He loved it.

Yeah, that’s right. HE loved it. Two small kittens were curled up in the flower bed in front of our house one freezing rainy day. James was three I think. Mama Cat wasn’t around. Snell ran to the vet and bought special milk for kittens and we put it as close to the babies as we could. Long story short. James named them. Kissy and Dawn.

Kissy never warmed to us but would wander through periodically. Dawn was a bright young kitten and knew a good thing when she saw it. She stayed and let us pet and humor her.

Finally, one day Dawn started getting into our laps and letting us really hold her. She had to be neutered. We didn’t need any more cats to take up with us. The vet said Dawn was male. Well, gender identity was never one of our stronger traits. Don’t believe us…Delilah became Samson, Lilac the rabbit became Smokey, Figaro looks like she has a pair but is female and the Queen of the house. We need to choose genderless names.

Dawn knew his name. He and Puddles, the Puppy-Dog (oh I know, but …) loved each other. He made his way into the house and there he stayed. Forever.

Dawn was an amazing cat. Tolerant of a toddler who loved him. Answered you when you asked him a question. “Want some chicken, Pussum?” ”yaa,” he answered.” “Want some turkey, Dawn?” “Nah”. He didn’t care for turkey at all.

My husband has been in the hospital with pneumonia and a fracture T-12 vertebrae. He is hard of hearing. No, I take that back. He is deaf as a post. He wouldn’t hear the thunder if lightning struck him. I am the official hearing aid. I go where he goes. I am the official interpreter.

Being an interpreter means I have been known to do odd things to get the message across. 

While in the hospital, Snell was having a great deal of trouble understanding. He mostly reads lips. The medical staff wear masks. Yep, might as well have been blind as well as deaf.

He has pneumonia so every other syllable is punctuated by terrible coughs, followed by a moan of pain from the broken back. He was unable to answer their questions. I am invaluable, yes I am. I know all the answers. I walk in with a two page report of all of his doctors, medications, and medical history. I hand it over and the medical staff are like “Oh WOW. This is great.” 

Do yourself and your family a favor. Create a report for each family member. In a crisis you might forget a medication. Hand them the paper and your crisis is averted. I also have a 3 x 11 sheet of paper in each family member’s wallet that lists all our medications, medical contacts, and emergency contacts. 

I am also much more talented than I ever realized. Young people are more ignorant than I had realized. I told the nurses that I was having to do my Marcel Marceau impersonation to communicate. Clueless. Had no idea who the most famous mime and interpretive movement actor in the world was. I educated each of them.

Then it hit me. These adults probably have no idea of the people who made the entertainment industry truly great. They only know artificial acting and computer generated creativity. Sad.

“Do you know who Cary Grant is?” I asked several of the staff. They all said no.” Bette Davis? Ingrid Bergman? Alfred Hitchcock? Humphrey Bogart? At least, please tell me you know John Wayne?” 

I was quivering at the ignorance and innocence before me. Okay, maybe they don’t watch the great ones on the Classic movie channel.

“Do you know who Harry Truman was?” When that one got a no, I said “ever heard of the atomic bomb? Or Hiroshima? How about World War II? “Some of them had grandparents that served in Viet Nam. Okay, this was my time. They knew doodly squat about Viet Nam.

I wasn’t exactly frothing at the mouth, but it was close. Folks, you need to know a little about history so you don’t keep making the same mistakes over and over.  

So people, if you don’t know Cary Grant or Humphrey Bogart, watch a few black and white movies. You might learn what acting really is… You know where people learn the words and create a character and provide knowledge and entertainment without using a computerized brain.

Watch some old movies. Expose yourself to something besides car crashes, foul language, and green screens. Maybe you will learn something about the history of our nation. No, the movies aren’t exactly accurate, but it is better you know something than nothing about how your world has developed.

I am now going to get myself out of this invisible box and watch a Cary Grant movie, where intelligent conversation and a love stories without filth and nudity can entertain me. I have to use MY imagination. 
And Marilyn, diamonds are a girls’ best friend. 

Cary Grant, British-born American film actor whose good looks, debonair style, and flair for romantic comedy made him one of Hollywood’s most popular and enduring stars. Among his most notable films are Bringing Up Baby, The Philadelphia Story, His Girl Friday, Notorious, and North by Northwest.

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Marilyn Monroe (born June 1, 1926, Los Angeles, California, U.S.—died August 5, 1962, Los Angeles) American actress who became a major sex symbol, starring in a number of commercially successful films during the 1950s, and who is considered a pop culture icon. She was the secnd woman to own her production company, unheard of in the male run world of movies. ​

I write the Anything Goes column for Inspirations for Better Living magazine.
(www.inspirationsforbetterliving.com)

The parent company has a radio show Every Wednesday.  I was interviewed for this Wednesday's feature.
​(www.FromMyMamasKitchenTalkRadio.com) 

I hope you will be able to listen in.  I would appreciate it very much.

The link is below.

Interview with Marlene Rutledge Buchanan and Lynn Hesse at the S. SinC meeting, Monroe Walton County Center for the Arts.

"Getting old is not for Sissies."
-Bette Davis

Talk about a true statement that is one.  

"If I had known I was going to live this long I would have taken better care of myself."
-W.F. Woodard 

I fall down. Go splat.

Me.

Yep, I am officially old. I fall down a lot. And this time I won the big prize: fractured upper orbit eye socket, concussion, scratched cornea, bruised knee caps, and lovely, colorful patches all over my face.

I guess it was good thing that I do like color, because I am a rainbow. 

I had gone under the house to find Snell. He had turned off his hearing aids and he can’t hear the phone and went under the house to change the filters on the pool. I was supposed to call him when the water level got to a certain point. No hearing aids, no phone and deaf as a post. I had to go under the house to find him.

When he'd been gone a long time and didn't answer his phone. I got worried and went looking for him. Mistake No. 1. I swore if I didn’t get a full basement under this house I would NEVER go into the crawl space. I didn’t get the basement. I got a crawl space, in which I have been exactly four times in 27 years. This was the fourth.

Mistake 2: Trusting Snell to NOT turn off his hearing aids. I was supposed to call him for heaven’s sake. He can’t hear the phone and the vibration isn’t strong enough to give anyone a thrill. 

So here I am, searching for an 85 year old man with no hearing aids working and a puny vibrator. I go all around the house. I stand at the crawl space door. I yell. I scream. I wave my hands in a please don’t be dead manner. Nothing. For the fourth time in my life I go under the house. Mistake #3.

Over in the corner, way over in the corner, is Snell. “I thought you were going to call me.” 

Me “What is wrong with your phone?” 

Him“Nothing, I guess. I had to turn my hearing aids off because the pool motor was making so much noise.
 
Mistake 4:  Putting the pool motor, etc. under the house. (I didn’t’ vote for that either)

 Mistake 5: Telling me he turned off the hearing aids and looking puzzled at my concern.

Mistake 6: Telling me later in the ER he discovered he had accidentally turned off the vibrator to his phone.

In exasperation I turned and started walking/crawling to the door. The space is 4 feet high. I am 5 feet 3 inches on a good day. It was not a good day. I was mimicking the Hunchback of Notre Dame in walk pattern.

The crawl space floor is concrete. I’m not sure if I won the fight, but I beat that concrete floor into submission with my face.

I hit left eye first. My hands are not even scratched. I didn’t even try to break my fall. I just hit the floor and skidded on my face, filling my left eye with concrete dust.

 “What’s the matter? Did you fall? Are you okay?” No, I like laying on a concrete floor in a claustrophobic crawl space that I both resent and hate.

I just lay there. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t think. All I could was hurt. I had a baby. This pain was so much worse.
​
I was covered in concrete and other dust. My eye was filled with blood and dirt. My knees would not support my weight. I was gasping for air and inhaling dust, dirt, any critters that had died under the house.  And it had started out as a very pretty and productive day. 

After several minutes, Snell was able to help me get out in the blinding bright light and fresh air. I tried to wash some of the dirt off my face. I washed my eye out with a saline solution repeated. Finally the majority of the dirt was out of my eye. My eye is swollen shut and the knot on my head could be used to carve one of the busts from Mt. Rushmore.

Snell dropped me off at the ER entrance and I walked in. I thought I was doing okay by then, except for blindness and the headache. “Excuse me. I need some help.”

One of the nurses looked at me and said “You sure do, Honey. What is your name and social security number?” Admission and fee paying always comes before treatment and/or death.

I remember looking at her and thinking “Social Security Number.” I know I was in shock. I remember starting to say something and then I am falling backwards. Before I hit the floor someone caught me and then a chair was slamming under me and my sore knees.

The next thing was a very bright room. I couldn’t see it was so bright. I had to shield my one open eye. The lights dimmed. “I’m Dr. whose name should not be mentioned for his indifference. How badly are you hurt?”

Duh. What do you think, Doc.? I have an ostrich egg on my forehead. My eye is swollen shut. I just passed out in your entrance way. “Gee, Doc, I bumped my wittle head.” I could have strangled him with his stethoscope.

Now this is the truth. When someone for whom I care goes to the emergency room I am there. I know enough about medicine to be dangerous but I am great at emergency care. I can butterfly a gash as pretty as any ER doctor. I can even to do Madison Bandage on an open torso wound. I am never hysterical. I am never nauseated. Blood is just interesting. I make sure that every wound is checked, treated and it is right.

That doctor never came fully into the room. No one cleaned the concrete out of my facial wounds. My knees were never touched. I was skinned from in my hair line to my chin on the left side. My shoulder was painful and I couldn’t lift that arm well.  I was just one bigopen dirty strawberry burn. Except that some places were very deep. The space above my left eye and on my left cheek bone were deeply raw.  He ordered a CT scan. That was it. Oh someone gave me a barf bag. I remember being very nauseated.

CT scans revel I do have a brain, perhaps a big jiggled up. It did not show the fracture of my upper left brown bone. Another doctor a week later determined that injury.

 I do not have a personality eyebrow any more. I cannot lift my scolding, loving, quizzical eyebrow. That brow is very important to my demeanor and my ability to communicate.

Two weeks later my left eye opened. Dizzy spells have continued for all that time with a headache that simply pounds. Light is an issue and so is noise.  The headache lasted off and on for nearly four weeks.

I have saved quite a bit of money on make-up. No spackle is strong enough to cover this colorful face. People are nice to me. I get lots of kindness.  

It was all Snell's fault. I don’t care what he says!!!

Sainthood may not be good enough an honor! Ms. Johnson invented the hand cranked ice cream churn as a way to reduce the time required to make ice cream. Ice cream was originally made using very intensive labor over several hours. Johnson essentially created a way to make ice cream faster and easier. 

Originally, there were many steps to creating ice cream. President Thomas Jefferson had an eighteen step recipe. Johnson’s brilliant idea changed ice cream making into a much easier and faster route to happiness. On September 9th, 1843, Patent numberUS3254A was issued for the. Artificial Freezer and antedated on July 29th, 1848.

A Philadelphia housewife married to Walter Rogers Johnson in Medfield, Massachusetts. Walter was a scientist and first secretary at the American Association for the Advancement of Science. Nancy, herself, was a very successful inventor. This was very uncommon in her days, because women’s legal identities were taken away when they married. Under the laws of coverture, women were not allowed to control their own finances, own property, or sign legal agreements. Men represented their wives, mothers, and daughters. Nancy was a bold and determined woman who empowered women, teaching them they can make their own way for themselves.

In 1843, she filed for her patent for the first hand-cranked ice cream churn (US3254A). Her invention was called a “disruptive technology” because it made it possible for everyone to make quality ice cream without electricity. This technology changed the way that ice cream was made forever and portions of her patent continue to be used today.

Johnson received $1500 during the course of her lifetime for her Artificial Freezer. She adapted her original patient and refiled September 9th, 1843. She sold the rights of the patent to William G. Young, a Baltimore native, who improved some on the ice cream freezer on May 30th, 1848. Johnson sold the rights of the patent to Young for $200.

People erroneously credit Young as the inventor, but it was a Nancy Johnson who made the world a better place.
  
There are some people who should receive sainthood for the amazing deeds they do. Heroes should receive awards. We need to recognize the people who have made a difference in this world.

September 9 should be celebrated around the world! Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson should be known universally for ice cream.

You scream.

I scream...

We all scream for ice cream. 

And scream most loudly for Nancy.

Nancy Maria Donaldson Johnson, thank you, thank you, thank you. You made my life and the lives of so many better.

(Information derived from Wikipedia)

Marlene is available for her speaking engagements. She is an award winning author and her books are available through amazon.com and scribblersweb.com. Join www.MsRatWrites.com for her monthly newsletters.

    We have just returned from our vacation to Alaska. We went 21 years ago with our son, friends John and Margie Sawyer, their daughter Mylinda, and husband Chris Moore. It was the trip of a life time. But our lifetimes do change.

    This trip was a little different. Mylinda, Chris, and their 19 year old daughter joined us. They brought her mama, Margie. One of my dearest friends, Cece (Cecelia Landress) also took the trip. John, who is legendary in Georgia for his baseball coaching skills, can no longer travel. 

Things I learned:

1. I attended a conference that was a weeklong only to return to leave for Alaska in 4 days. I was in a swivet already. Already tired and leaving a ton of work behind, I was in tail spin by the time we got to the airport. (And yes, swivet is a word in my vocabulary! It is self-explanatory.)
2. Never let your husband and son do their own packing without checking behind them.
3. Never trust anyone who says “I already checked there.” When searching for his medication. Always, ALWAYS, check behind them. We unpacked and packed the suitcases THREE times. The medication was on the bathroom sink in the little plastic bag with the toothbrushes and paste.  Yep, always check behind anyone who swears they have already done it.
4. If you spend three hours in Atlanta Hartsfield Airport, you have done all of your time in Purgatory. We did it twice this trip. If you didn’t cuss out one person, your extra feathers will be waiting by your wing frame in Heaven. I have to say, after our luggage was misplaced on the return home, I may have lost a few of my feathers. With my bum ankle I transversed Hartsfield THREE times. Snell is sick. James is aggravated and wanting to go home. I think I have to start collecting feathers again. My wing frame is pretty empty.
5. Memories are what matters. Margie has Alzheimer’s. She is my best friend. We laughed at all the old things we talked about. We laughed several times as we told the same new stories. It is important to cherish the woman who was so powerful and wonderful and to love the woman who is there now.  People around us might think we have lost our minds, but who cares. She is laughing and she is still wonderful.
6. Alaska is the final frontier—as long as you don’t get off the boat.  It is now the retail capital of the world, I think. Jewelers try to pull you in off the street.  
7. Whatever price is asked, ask for lower. Then ask again. One more time. Never pay more than one-third of the asking price and I recommend that you think one-fourth or less.  Alaska is the land of opportunity for you to be robbed blind.
8. Never bring a coat to Alaska. You can buy great jackets in Ketchikan for $30. Buy it in Ketchikan. The prices go up as you go further into your trip. When we began unpacking on the ship I found the three of us had five coats and three sweaters. The coolest temperature we had was 51F in the mornings. The rest of the day was low to mid 60’s. Shirt sleeve weather for me. A sweater and jacket for them. I told you to always check their packing. 
9. Don’t buy anything on the ship until the last day. Find out if you have some money credits. Use that to get what they have on sale if you really want it. I “bought” three rings for $0.00. I had $45.00 in credits.
10. Never say never. When we got out of Purgatory Atlanta-Hartsfield airport, with our luggage, my husband said “I am never going anywhere that we cannot drive.” James agreed. Then said, “Are we still going to Hawaii?” “Not until a bridge is built, son. Not until there is a bridge.” Replied Snell. 
11. Yes, crying is permitted. I was convinced I had caught dementia from Margie. I could not remember things. Finding my way was nearly impossible. I was easily confused…more easily than usual. My temper was not just flaring, but flames were shooting into the air. You are tired. You are in a new place. People will and do run over you. Try to smile as much as you can. It scares people around you and they will back up.
12. Do not plan for any activities for the first three days you are home. I had a speaking engagement the day after we got home. The audience was very receptive. I got a lot of compliments. I don’t remember what all I said. I do remember taking my shoes off because I felt like I was swaying on a ship. 
13. Book a service to take you to the airport. I think this is really valuable in Atlanta, where road construction is our adventure park. There are several things to recommend a driver. One, you get there without having to fight the traffic directly and you do not have to find parking. Outler Transportation, out of Snellville, GA, was the group we used.  Delightful staff, very helpful, knew all the ways to get around the construction. He knew where to go to get us to the right airline place, too. Greg, the owner, was terrific.
14. Book a service to get you home from the airport. This will save you jail time. When you get off that air plane you are still rocking and reeling and your brain is swollen and non-functioning. You only have to find the driver. No check out in the terminal parking, just let him drive you out of the mess.  And calling it a mess is being very kind. No matter how aggravated you are, he is dealing with the imbeciles who are cutting in front of you, tailgating, and acting a fool. If I had been driving I probably would have cussed more, made ugly gestures, and rammed into a telephone pole when I fell asleep behind the wheel. God Bless Greg and the Outler Transportation Series. (770-560-2961. www.outlertrans.com) I want to give him a big thank you and share his information with you.  Seriously, kept me sane and got us home safely and with an understanding smile that I was a homicidal manic after the Atlanta Airport fun and games.

The trip was good. We had a great time. It is our last adventure with Margie. Our families have traveled many places together. This was our last hurrah. Know what? The airport, lost luggage, and diarrhea (Yeah, I left that part out), money hungry retailers, and everything else... I wouldn’t trade that trip for anything.

One last great thing. I taught high school art was called Art Woman or Ms. Rat. One of my former students, now friend, lives in Seattle. We have stayed in touch over the last 50 plus years. Richard Kromm came out to meet us. We had a couple of hours together. Richard and being with Margie and our extended family is what made the trip priceless. 

I’d do it all again, even the airport.