The Pain of Filling Up

Hubby likes to take care of filling up our two cars. A few weeks ago he filled his Dodge SUV for $70+. But since prices are slowly coming down, he only charged $52.64 today for a little more than 13 gallons.






When I got my driver’s license and my first car (early 1960s), the price of gasoline was not an issue with me. But I do recall that there would sometimes be “gas wars.” Looking back, I guess gasoline must have been so abundant and cheap that gas stations had to be more competitive. It was not unusual for a main intersection to have four “filling stations” all offering “full service” (checking the oil, washing windshield and all the windows, use of rest rooms, maybe water fountain).

But the “gas war” would be started by one of the gas stations dropping the price by one cent. The others might follow the penny drop or would better it by dropping two cents. It was fun to see how low they would go. The lowest I personally recall was .25 9/10 per gallon. I don’t recall but two grades of gasoline: regular and ethyl. Regular was the only thing I ever bought.



My first car was this beauty: 1962 Ford Fairlane, 2-door, standard transmission, white sidewall tires, an AM radio, no air conditioning but it did have a heater. The top was a creamy color and the bottom part of the body was a soft aqua color. My dad gave his old Chevy truck as a trade-in to help with the down payment. One of my dad’s friends, Fred Hanson, went with me to the State National Bank to co-sign for the loan. But I got the coupon book to make the monthly payments. I wish I could remember the amounts of money involved, but I do recall that I was very responsible and paid for my first car on schedule. I really loved that car. I guess there is always a special sentiment for that first car.

Dental Woes

My earliest recollections of going to the dentist was when I was about seven years old. I remember that because the dental office sent me a birthday card for my eighth birthday. I felt special because they remembered, and because the card was so neat. It had a wheel between the front of the card and the inside left of the card. The front had a square cut out to reveal one of the numbers printed on it. My card showed “8” at the time. I think I kept that card for the longest time—for sentimental reasons as well as the thought that someday I might make a similar card later in life. I have lost track of the card now.


Now to the present. I just had one more session with my dentist this morning. Last month I had three sessions with the endodontist, and I need to make an additional appointment with the periodontist. We are in the age of specialization! Even though I have dental insurance, I still have to come up with co-pays on some things, some other services are not covered at all, and I have already maxed out my benefits for this year. Oh to have the teeth of an eight-year old.


The top picture is on the dentist’s front counter. The picture below is what I need to take to the periodontist. It looks like a have a foot in my mouth instead of teeth. I just want to be able to eat some corn on the cob, steaks, hard candy, and other goodies soon.

Sputnik to Barcelona

Just out of the University of Texas (Austin), my first job was in Amarillo, Texas, teaching Spanish at Tascosa High School. The Russians had had their success with Sputnik in the recent past--1957--and the educators were recruiting teachers with emphasis on math and science, as well as foreign language. The foreign language instructors given priority were native speakers. So I was hired as the Spanish teacher, and a native French woman was the new French teacher. The Latin teacher was a very senior lady about ready to retire.

My first year of teaching was primarily a learning experience for me. Not only did I learn grammar rules, but I learned interesting little cultural bits. One of the stories in my Spanish II class was about the architect Antoni Gaudí. At least a couple of my students were particularly interested in architecture and had heard of him. I had not. But that was one of my learning experiences.

Hubby and I toured Europe for nine weeks shortly after we were married, and Barcelona was one of our stops. I was especially looking forward to the Gaudi works, and was not disappointed. We were particularly impressed with the church La Sagrada Familia.



Then thirty years later my daughter and I went to Europe, and met up with a friend of Hubby who had taught with him in the US. It was great to have her as our guide, and we covered just about every spot in Barcelona. The picture above was taken just before we took in Gaudí's Casa Mila.

If I make it back to Europe, Barcelona is still one of my favorite stops.

My New Nikon Arrived Today

I am excited about my new digital camera. I hope this Nikon lives up to its claim that it will work in low light situations.It arrived this afternoon, and I was anxious to try out right away, but had to wait until the battery charged. Then there was dinner time, and laundry to attend to. By then it was dark, so I tried it out on different things here in the house. This picture is taken in the macro mode. I wanted to capture the needlework of a cushion cover that I have framed. I think so far I need to try other subjects under different light conditions. Am looking forward to trying the active child mode when we visit grandson later this month.

The needlework above was done by the Hmong, and I bought it at a quilt show sometime in the early 1980s. I like the reverse applique that is so delicate, but I picked this particular piece because of the embroidered figures, that depicted the everyday life of the Hmong farmers.

When I worked as a social worker, I had a consumer whose family name was Cha. The family knew very little English, but were extremely cooperative. I remember that their apartment had almost no furniture, but they were very gracious and offered me some tea. Not wanting to be impolite, I accepted. I normally do not drink tea without tons of sugar, but I did manage to consume at least five or six swallows. This Hmong family came from the mountain area of Laos. And were among the thousand s of refugees that settled in the United States, and more particularly in Orange County.

Happy Birthday, Sis

I am so lucky to have you as my sister. When we were very young, we came close to losing you. I am so glad you made it back to health!

The time was close to the end of WWII. I remember that Mama Mere was taking care of me, and I did not see much of Dad, Mom or you. Mama Mere told me that you were in the hospital, and that we had to pray. She had me kneel and pray to La Virgencita that you would get well.

It was not until I was a little older that I learned some of the details of your illness. You had meningitis, and the doctors had to requisition that new miracle drug—penicillin—from the brass at the Corpus Christi Naval Base. Since it was wartime, this drug was not readily available for civilians.

Mama Mere and I kept praying at home, and she made a promise to La Virgencita de Guadalupe that if you recovered, we would make the pilgrimage to the Basilica in Mexico City.

I don’t know if it was the penicillin or La Virgencita, but to the joy of all in the family, you recovered!

That left Mama Mere and Mom to make good on the promise. And we made the trek to El Cerro del Tepeyac and paid homage to La Virgencita. I remember that there were some people who went kneeling all the way to the altar. I don't think we did that. While there Mom paid for a plaque that had the message of thanks to the Virgin and it was to include your name and to be posted somewhere on the church grounds. Who knows if it was ever done.

Since we were there in Mexico City already, we also went to the floating gardens of Xochimilco, just outside of the city. Remember those hats! Oh yes, and Mom’s idea of not playing favorites was to dress us alike. Enjoy your birthday with your family, I feel blessed to have you as my sis.

Geraniums and Mama Grande

Almost anything will grow in Southern California. We may be experiencing a drought, but some plants just keep on growing and giving. I think everyone on our block has a gardener. The only one I see mowing his own lawn is the teacher across the street, and he does it primarily to get some exercise, he says.

I think some of my favorite flowering plants are the geraniums. They thrive even if neglected. But my fondness for geraniums goes back to when I was a child and my great-grandmother had all the different colors of geraniums in pots. Pots for plants in those days were old tin cans that had a hole or two on the bottom. Coffee cans were the prized ones, but the cans from other things worked, too. I remember some of the neighbor ladies admiring her geraniums and commenting, “Tiene muy buena mano la abuelita, ¿verdad?” referring to my Mama Grande's "good hand" for making things grow. And then they would walk away with a rooted plant in one of those cans, and pay her with a promise to save their coffee cans for her.



Since those childhood days, I have read and experienced that geraniums will root and thrive with little care. But I prefer to believe that my great-grand abuela really had “a very good hand” for making things grow. La Abuelita, Mamá Grande, or Ma Grande were some of the names by which I knew her. This great lady who had a way with the geraniums, was great at recycling (we had not heard the term back then), and just "made-do" with what ever was available. She had known many hard times in her life, yet lived to be 104 years old! Some of my aunts and uncles liked to explain her longevity to the fact that she liked a shot of hard liquor now and then, and that she walked and walked everywhere she needed to be. Now our doctors admonish us to do exercise for our health. And those highly-funded studies reveal that drinking red wine daily is good for us. How did Ma Grande know to do that since she had very little formal education and was never sick.

The Tarahumara of Chihuahua

I had read about this wonderful train ride that originated in Chihuahua, Chihuahua probably about fifteen or twenty years ago. I knew that was a trip I had to take, but other things in my life were going on, and that trip was placed in the backburner of my mind. Even in retirement, it seems other events took precedence, but early in 2007 I decided that if I didn't do that trip, I might not get to do it at all.


Excitedly, I searched for different tours, but the safest one for me was going with Elderhostel. They cater to able, active senior citizens. So, even though it was not the cheapest one of the tours, I signed on for the Copper Canyon trip in May 2007. I was really happy with the program from the very first night at the Davis Mountain Education Center in West Texas.

The train ride was nice, the scenery impressive, but I was especially intrigued by the Tarahumara Indians. The women weave these wonderful baskets using pine tree needles. The children sell trinkets to the tourists. Many of the men still wear their native dress even though the Mexicans in town wear modern dress.

I would love to make the trip again, but would like to have hubby and son accompany me next time. There are so many places yet to see and do. Reminds me of the Jack Nicholson/Morgan Freeman movie, The Bucket List. Thankfully, neither of us have gotten the medical news that we have only a short time to live.