Last living flower in the old flowerbed. I wanted to say something philosophical or profound.
But nothing comes to mind. Oh well, in a week it'll be dead with all the rest.

Posted via email from Shirley's posterous

Today is Mama's 89th birthday. She was reminiscing about her younger days.

About when she was square dancing at age 18 and her partner swung her off the floor and her feet slipped halfway out of her high heels and she didn't know if she could hit the ground a'running or not. (But she did.)

And about the day the stock market crashed -- it was on her birthday and she was a freshman in high school. And how, at that time, she and her friend, Evelyn, would buy hamburgers for lunch for 10 cents each. They'd buy a bottle of pop for 5 cents and ask for two glasses.

And how, when she and Daddy were married (ages 19 and 21 respectively), they paid their employees 20 cents per hour. (At that time, Daddy was already an established orchard man and fruit packer.)

I love to hear her tell those things. It's all so clear in her memory and she makes me feel almost like I can see it.

Well, it had to happen ... First snow of the season.

Posted via email from Shirley's posterous

The system I’m trying to make work involves using Windows Live Writer installed on a flash drive using a specialized addition that’s supposed to make it self-contained and portable.

 

The theory is that I could then start a post on my office computer, then take it on the road with me, sit under a tree in the wilderness and finish it offline, then find somewhere with a connection for my laptop and send the post winging along its way to the blog.

 

However, as we all know, even if theory and practice are the same in theory, they are definitely different in practice. So I wasn’t too surprised to find it wouldn’t work quite like that.

 

For some reason, every time the flash drive is plugged in it loses all the settings. So you have to reconfigure it each time. Bummer! Well, back to the drawing board.

Today the trees are showing more yellow than green. There's an ominous wind rocking my van and whistling through the window.

Posted via email from Shirley's posterous

It's given me enjoyment this summer. But I fear its days are numbered.

Posted via email from Shirley's posterous