#214 - WE TOOK ORLANDO BY STORM.

This coming Sunday (October 30th) is my grandson, Gene's birthday.  He will be 16.

This kid is a real cutie pie.

                              

Was then... ...

                                           

...is now!

One memory I have of him was when he was about two and a half.  I was sleeping in on that particular Saturday morning and my son, Gene showed up with the kids.  Gene William (I call him GW) came on back to my apartment at the back of my parent's house.  I could hear his little feet thumping on the kitchen floor as he ran.  I was laying there waiting for him but, as he walked into my bedroom and began to scowl.  He looked me up and down as I lay there with a pillow between my pajama clad knees and, like a little old man, said,  "Ahhhh, a contour knee pillow.  Memaw, do you have back pain?"  I burst out laughing, grabbed him up in my arms and tickled him as he squealed with delight.

My VERY favorite picture

He loved hats.

One of the many things I loved about him as a little kid was that he was always sunny and laughing .  He was playful and had such a sparkle of mischievousness in his eyes.  He loved to put things on his head.  This started when he was still in diapers.

He, also, is a very loving and giving child.

GW was (and still is) as smart as a whip (I know, all grandma's say that but it's true).  When he was around four, the kid computer he received as a present stopped working correctly.  He would move the mouse but, nothing happened.  So he took the ball out, stuck his little finger up inside and manipulated the contacts inside AND THE DARNED THING WORKED!

Also, GW and I would play word games whenever we drove anywhere in the car.  He surprised me regularly with his vocabulary.  He could beat me at checkers at age five and by six was teaching me chess (and really tromping me soundly by age seven).  GW loved to play board games and if he played the game once or twice he would show no mercy and soundly thrash me .  He eventually started playing a serious board came at a local store (Star Wars Miniatures) and was winning against much older kids (including adults).  He tried to teach me that game (and I USED to be real smart) but as hard as I tried I couldn't get the hang of it.

I can remember meeting his Kindergarten teacher one year and asking her how GW was doing.  She had some very nice things to say about him and then added, "And, he is VERY funny."  I responded, "Oh, No, he's not the class clown, is he?"  She replied, "No, he is just, very funny."

As a kid he was a real cut up.  He liked to grab things and pretend they were microphones then he would sing his heart out and camp it up.  At one of his sister's intramural basketball games my son noticed that a lot of the spectators were not watching the game, but something on the stage.  Even the girls on the court were starting to watch the stage. People were laughing, pointing, and making comments to each other.  When my son, Gene, looked up at the stage, there was my grandson doing a mock performance on the stage.   He had the unplugged microphone in his hands was rocking his hips and knees as well as twirling his left arm around like a propeller.  When he leaned the mike over everyone laughed.  It was obvious that Elvis was in the building (at least in spirit)

I have already written about  what he did to his older sister.
http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com
 
Unfortunately, I didn't know that I was going to be writing a blog or I would have recorded the scores of funny episode in this boy's young life.

YOUNG GENE HAD DIFFICULTY FINDING HIS NITCH!

He was ambivalent about
basketball.

He definitely didn't like
baseball

                     

                     

But, he loves the big drum

                     

He was not too thrilled with the
Cymbals either.

               















One of the things I miss most about GW getting older is we don't go to the movies together as much.  I miss listening to him laugh and make smart comments at whatever we were watching.  I miss discussing his take on the movie and the whole experience of just spending a evening with him.  One particular night, several years ago, he was feeling a little curious.  For some reason he decided to see just how far he could stick his arm into the round opening in the arm of his seat.  He had to be in about the 4th-5th grade at the time.  I had gone to the concession stand to load up on our favorite goodies and as I walked down the isle I noticed that he kept looking around, leaning strangely to his left, and had a funny look on his face.  When I got there I could see the problem immediately.  When I started to laugh he shushed me and mouthed H E L P !  I sat down beside him and surveyed the situation and, yes, his arm was stuck tight.  Since the previews had already started I whispered,  "You twit!  (snicker) I'll be right back".  As I headed toward the bathroom to get some liquid soap I paused momentarily to consider if I could run home and get the camera.  Then I realized just how embarrassed he would be so I got the soap and a wet paper towel instead.  In a few minutes we managed to extricate his arm and I heard his heave a big sigh of relief.  Like me he has a good imagination and I am sure he was thinking about how it would look if the fire department had to use the jaws of life to unpin his fettered arm.  He made me promise not to tell anyone (a promise I did not break until much later - after getting his permission).  


My favorite memory is our trip to Orlando during the summer of 2007.  I took his sister to Alaska the summer after she graduated grade school.  So, when GW graduated to middle school I decided take him to Orlando.  We didn't go to Disney World because he had already been there with his parents, but we did go to EVERYTHING else.

If you asked my Grandson about his favorite memory of that trip he would probably say that it was watching his grandmother trip several times and fall flat on my face.  We went to a wonderful dinner theater where we ate and watched pirates take over this hugh ship (surrounded by water) in the middle of the arena.  GW even got to participate in the show.  When we got up to leave I held onto a post while I walked down the steps and the darned thing gave away, throwing me and the post onto the floor.  I did a fantastic pratt fall and GW was probably thinking, "Way to go, Grandma."

Here we are outside the theater area,
 making memories.

They had all kinds of fun and exciting things to do at the Wonder Works attraction. It took us most of the day to experience it all.  The two pictures below were taken at that fantastic place.  That evening we went to a hilarious magic show at the and ate way too much pizza.  I tried to get him to volunteer to go up to the stage, but the chicken wouldn't do it!

 We went to Universal Studios, Sea World, the Kennedy Space Center and the beach.

Can you tell he was already
tired of me taking pictures.

In a better mood for pics (it was after
lunch!).

At universal he refused to go on one of the rides.  When I asked me why he showed me the brochure and pointed to the red heart by the photo of the ride.  I responded, "So?"  He replied "The heart means that a person can have a heart attack while riding that!"

What a kid!  Looking out for his old grandmother.  However, the only possible danger was to the people  around me when I spewed my lunch.

This was probably the best part for him.

       

We were REAL close!

   

At the Kennedy Space Center I was so
busy looking up at the hugh space shuttle
that I failed to notice a curb in front of me,
tripped and (you guessed it) fell flat on my
face.....AGAIN!

I didn't go into the water, just watched him
cavorting around.  He loves the ocean.

I THINK I WORE HIM OUT!
(by the way he's gonna kill me when he sees that I posted this picture).

One of the things that cracked him up about me (besides falling on my face 4 times) is how I got lost three times trying to find the airport the night before we were supposed to leave.  I wanted to make sure that I could find it the next morning.  Well, it took me several wrong turns, several cuss words, and over an hour (for a 20 minute trip) to try to find the darned place.  He was counting the number of cuss words I said and laughing his head off.

I can't begin to tell you just how much fun we had in Orlando.  It is a wonderful place to vacation. I took dozens of pictures, walked until I thought my feet would fall off, and ate like a pig.  Also, I didn't get to tell you about how I got him to the front of the line to feed the dolphins.  I am saving that story for another blog.  Let me just say there were 50 people ahead of us and only enough fish for 5 more.  I made sure that my grandson got his fish (and pissed hacked a few people off in the process).

Happy Birthday Gene William.  
I am exceedingly rich with fantastic memories of the fun we have had together over the years.  You never cease to amaze me with your intelligence and wit.  Your smile brightens my day, your hugs nourish me and your sense of humor delights me.  You have a gentle soul and a big heart.  You are always kind to others and especially to me.  There is never a day that goes by that I don't thank God that you are a part of my life.  


I love you,
Grandma (aka Memaw)

kt 9/19/11

#211 = THE KINETIC KID

What a handsome young man he is!

This week my grandson Logan will be 8 years old.  He is my daughter's son and I am trying to figure out how best to describe him.  You see Logan is a lot of things, but most of all he is a wiggly, funny, ball of energy that never stops.  He goes full tilt all day.  My daughter says that he takes after his father, Patrick.  Well, according to Patrick's parents that's true. However,  my daughter, Patty, was a hand full too.  So, Logan got a double dose of wild and crazy from his parents.  

          

This kid is as sweet as they come
(once he slows down).

     

And when he slows down he often crashes,
just about anywhere (he gets this from his mom).

He can be a real goof ball ( he gets this
from his dad).

And has a flair for the dramatic ( I think he gets this from me).

                                                                          
















Logan also got a double dose of athletic ability.  My daughter was on the swim team as a young girl, and a cheer leader in high school and college (an ariel performer).  Patrick on the other hand was a sports phoneme in high school.  And, now, they both do triathlons.  

He is a terrific baseball player. 


He also plays soccer, basketball, and   
just learned how to ski.      
And, to show how well rounded he is he
is also learning how to play the guitar 
(and you should hear him singing in the
bathroom).

He is an amazing football player.

He is a terrific swimmer and entered two
triathlons this summer (and won one of them).

He is an excellent cyclist (and here he is
on the second leg of a triathlon).

He is a strong runner
(and here he is 
on the third leg of a triathlon).

He still hadn't made up his mind
about me when I took this picture.
NOTICE THE FISTS

A LOGAN STORY:  Logan can get mad just like any kid but he isn't allowed to cuss.  One a couple of summers ago he got mad at me for disciplining him, and called me a "poopy head".  His father heard the comment and cut that short with only a look and a brief side bar.Later that evening his parents went out to dinner and a movie.  Logan didn't want to go to bed.  When I tried to make him he started to call me a "poopy head" (I could see it starting to form this word on his lips).  His eyes went up as if remembering the brief interaction with his dad and then called me a "monkey head" instead.  Of course, I didn't want to reinforce that phrase either, so I stifled a laugh.  

Since he wouldn't go to bed and kept slipping out of his room I sat in the doorway.  Logan was playing in his room, making all kinds of noise and occasionally glaring at me.  When he heard the out side door open and shut, his eyes flew open wide, his mouth went into an "O" shape and with a flying leap he landed in his bed.  Just a quickly he covered himself up and closed his eyes.  Boy, his dad sure has him under his control.

THIS IS A CLASSIC STORY ABOUT LOGAN THAT I WROTE ON  Dec. 6, 2010.
I called my daughter, Patty, to wish her and her family a Happy Thanksgiving.  I got to talk with both of the kids.  Shay (2nd grade) is all reserved and lady like.  A real sweetheart but, getting information from her is like pulling a cat through a knothole backwards.  She usually answers my questions with one word answers like,  "Good,"  or  "Fine," or "Uh Huh."   When asked what she was thankful for and she gave me the funny up and down sound (you know the one that is a kind of guttural I don't know).  However, she finally told me she was thankful for her dogs.

However, when Logan (first grade) came to the phone he was all bubbly, as usual.  I asked him what he was thankful for and he reeled off a long list of things.  Then he paused and said, “Wait...wait!   I’m thankful for my blood, too!”  Of course this caused me to break into laughter and prompted a memory of something that happened earlier. 

THE MEMORY: You see, Logan is always one minute away from a bump, scrape, or whatever.  One day I receive a call from my daughter who had to hide in her office so Logan couldn’t hear her laughing while she told me what had happened.  

Apparently, Logan was not being careful at the kitchen table (no surprise there).  He was leaning the chair back on two legs.  My daughter was in her office and heard a loud crash (not unusual when Logan’s around).  But, what WAS unusual is she heard him wailing these words, “I’m dying!  I’m dying!”

Patty sprinted into the kitchen and found Logan lying on the floor, his chin tucked into his neck and his hands desperately clutching that area.  Blood was running from between his fingers.  He was still saying over and over, "I'm dying!" 

Trying not to panic, Patty pried his fingers away to see what the damage was.  She was relieved to find that he had only hit his chin on a stair step but the wound was bleeding profusely.

Now, here’s the clincher.  Logan''s tear filled, limpid eyes looked up into his mother’s face with a concerned look and said, "I love you Mommie, I’m going to miss you.”  He plaintively said this (several times).

While administering quick first aid Patty tried to convenience him that he was not going to die.  Shay, being quite the trooper, was already at her mother’s side helping.  The two of them took Logan to the hospital for stitches (not the first and probably not the last).  

At the hospital his wonderful Aunt Debbie met them and put in several stitches.  Then she sent him on his way with a belly full of candy called Swedish Fish (that ought to calm him down!).

Happy Birthday Logan,

I want you to know that I miss you very much.  You are so much fun to be around.   You can always make me laugh.  If I lived near you I would be at every game (or event) cheering you on.

What a wonderful young man you are becoming.  You are so very talented in so many ways.  I am definitely proud of having a grandson like you.

I think that Shay is lucky to have you for a little brother and I also know that your Mom and Dad are blessed to have you in their life.

Have a terrific birthday and I will come to see you the first chance that I get.

Love Grammy

#209 - BOARD to DEATH (just read it before you criticize my spelling).

My first real encounter with a live snake
(which I shall reveal here) was a DOOZIE 
and occurred around the first of August in 1968

Though not a professional snake wrangler, I have handled snakes (itty bitty garden snakes) before.  After all, I was once a Girl Scout and a den mother for a group of 8 cub scouts.  I had been shown (several times) how to correctly handle snakes and how to tell if they were venomous.  Also, come on, over the years I have watched dozens of shows by Mutual of Omaha and the Animal Channel. 


At the time of this encounter I was living in a small farm home in the Missouri Ozarks.  My husband (soon to be ex, but that's another story) had moved us there from Palm Desert, California.  I loved the Ozarks area and the house was the home in which my husband was born, so it had meaning.

Out behind the house was a small barn and in the pasture were three horses.  One was a big, white, frightening, wild eyed, stallion.  One was a mean little Shetland runt (who loved to nip my thigh and rump).  And, one (which was ours) was a retired, circus horse who knew all kinds of tricks (if you knew how to prompt her).   Ginger was 26 years old and as smart as a whip.  She didn't like to be ridden so she would always detour under low hanging branches and close to the trunks of trees.  I got knocked/scraped off several times (but she never did that with my kids). 

Ginger, Gene, Patty and me (can't believe I had my hair up in curlers)

The horses would not go into the barn no matter what I did.  I tried leading them, luring them, cooing to them and on and on and on.  Finally, I decided it was because there were boards just laid down on the dirt floor.  When I walked on them they would wobble a bit so I can imagine how they would move when the horses stepped on them.  Plus, there was other junk stored in that barn.

So, one day, since it was getting close to fall I decided the barn needed to be cleaned out for the horses.
In I went with a rake, a shovel, a wheelbarrow, a broom and a bucket with various items in it.  I hauled all of the junk out and stacked it behind the barn to be carried off or burned.  I worked on this all morning and into the afternoon while a friend watched my kids.  Then it came time to pull out the boards.  Everything was going fine until I got to the 5th board.  As I lifted it up a hugh (and I do mean HUGH) snake darted out then back under the next board.

I had only seen the animal for a brief second but long enough to consider it one of the most beautiful snakes I have ever seen.   This snake had orange, light-brown,  even a pinkish body that was highlighted by darker chestnut brown bands that formed a whole series of hourglass shapes across its body.

See, isn't it beautiful!

Immediately I thought of my son Gene.  He would love a snake as a pet. Therefore, I set about devising a way to catch it.

I glanced around and quickly came up with a plan which involved the bucket, a broom and a small piece of wood for a lid to the bucket.  Armed with this snake snaring paraphernalia I proceeded to raise and toss the 6th board.  The snake tried to pull the same maneuver and slip under board #7.  But, ha..ha..I was too quick for him/her.  After flinging the plank I grabbed the bucket and broom.  Then I beat the tarnation out of the snake with the broom and steered him into the bucket.  Whack, whack, whack, turned up the bucket, then slapped the make shift lid on the top.  Now, I could have reached down and grabbed it by the neck at the back of it's head, but since I hadn't gotten a real good look at it I decided not to take the chance.

Satisfied with my smart move and my prize I picket up the bucket, put it in the back seat of my car (with a rock on the lid) and headed for my father-in-laws country store, just down the road.  I wanted to know just what kind of snake I had caught (this was the olden days before internet).

When I arrived several men from the area had congregated around the inside of the store.  As usual they were drinking beer, sharing stories, and laughing.  I came in the door and they greeted me with a few nods and a "Hey, gal."

I put my bucket down, removed the lid tilted it towards the men and said, "Do any of you guys know what kind of snake this is?"  Before I could finish my sentence ALL of the men jumped up falling all over each other and fled the store.  Some were running, (one jumped through the open screen-less window),  all were cussing and yelling all sorts of unpleasant comments.  I put the lid back on the bucket and looked out the door.

My husband yelled from the parking lot,  "Karen, you've done a lot of hair-brained things but this one takes the cake."  Get that darned bucket out here (only he didn't exactly say darned)."

When I returned to the door with the bucket in hand I could see all of the men lined up with shotguns in their arms.  Now, this was the Ozarks, my friends, and since my husband and I hadn't been getting along lately I thought that this might be what is referred to as a QUICKY DIVORCE, Ozark style.

My husband asked me to gently put the bucket down in front of the men, and back up.  Ok, like a good wife, I did what I was told and then there was a deafening sound as all seven men fired at the bucket.  The bucket was blown to smithereens as was that beautiful snake.  DEATH was brutal and swift.

In not too kind of a tone or gentle language (and with one hand on his hip and the other hand pointing a finger at me), my husband told me that I had managed to capture an unusually large Copperhead whose venom could have killed me before anyone could have gotten me to the hospital.  He went on to add that this was the blind season for Copperheads making it an extremely dangerous time to mess with them. 

What did I say in response?"Oh, and it was so pretty."  To which my husband threw up his hands and stomped off.

I tried like crazy to find a yellow smiley face snake.  This will have to do.
By the way, do you NOW get my little pun of a title? 
 (Ok, ok, a little cheesy but it is all I could come up with)    kt 8/2011

PS:  WOULD YOU BELIEVE THAT 43 YEARS TO THE MONTH I CAUGHT A YOUNG COPPERHEAD!  On September 8th I was leaving the hospital after visiting my dad and a kid ran to the nurses station and said, "There's a snake in the waiting room.  My dad thinks it's a copper head."  Without missing a beat I said, "I'll take care of it."

When I got there a young snake about 12 inches long was laying up against the base board under a chair.  Four other people were standing about six feet from the critter.  Although small, I knew immediately that it was a young Copperhead.  A young woman entered the room with a broom and a bucket.  I started to laugh as I remembered the above story.  I just told her to stay where she was.  I took a trash can, tipped it over, stepped on the very end of the snakes tail and it quickly slithered into the dark bucket.  I tipped the bucket up and then tied a knot in the plastic baggie.  Handing the trash can with baggie and snake to the girl with the broom I said, "There you go."

The next morning when I returned to see Dad I asked his nurse if she had heard about the snake in the waiting room.  She said yes, and then I asked her what she had heard.  Her words exactly were, "I heard that there was a Copperhead snake in the waiting room and some crazy lady caught it and gave it to an aide."  Then her eyes got big and she said, "Were you that crazy lady?" All I could do was laugh.

#203 - MAN UP TO THE PANTY CHALLENGE

FISHDUCKEY...SEE SPECIAL NOTE TO YOU AT THE VERY END.

(THIS IS KT WRITING IN RED)  I received THIS from thedesertrocks.blogspot.com on Saturday 8/6 GEE THANKS!:　

Laila at The Untroubledkingdomoflailaknight sent me this challenge saying that since I was sweet she knew I wouldn't turn her down. How do I argue with that? Thank goodness it's not a let's all jump off a cliff challenge....

IT'S MEME TIME

Then, after I answer these questions I am supposed to tag five bloggers so this delightfully easy challenge gets passed along.  

Try to go for sweet and vulnerable and you shouldn't have a problem....

        I TOOK OFF THEIR PICTURE

          AND DECIDED TO POST MY OWN:

            

CAUGHT SHORT
This is me during my infamous mini-skirt days.
The picture was taken then posted on the bulletin
board where I worked (a Municipal Court House
 in Calif.)   NOTICE = my knees are together...

Ok, you can hardly blame me for stepping up to the challenge as I have authored TWO posts which discuss my undies!

http://www.blogger.com/post-edit.g?blogID=874207911908838979&postID=1591679827437061830

(HOW I GOT THE NICK NAME BETTY BOOP)   I understand this one didn't work so try:                http://outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2011/03/159-friday-flashbacks-how-i-acquired.html

AND

outofmymindbykt.blogspot.com/2010/12/61-paranioa-tighty-whities-story.html

(PARANOIA, THE TIGHTY WHITES STORY)

AND ta-ta..ta-da! here are the questions:

1. What do you call your panties / underwear / undergarments? Do you have any commonly used nicknames for them? 

Well, not tighty whities I learned this the hard way.  What?  Doesn't everyone call them under pants?  Give my underpants a Nickname...are you nuts!

2. Have you ever had that supposedly common dream of being in a crowded place in only your underwear?

Nope,  but I have dreamed about suddenly finding myself shopping in the nude.  However, since the dream happens in Walmart, nobody noticed. 

3. What is the worst thing you can think of to make panties out of?

Well, dental floss.  Woops, they already make them out of that don't they?  They're called thongs.

4. If you were a pair of panties, what color would you be? 

Ahhh, no way would I ever all myself to be changed into a pair of panties.  I can't imagine hanging around crotchety old ladies netherlands (or is it Never-Never lands?).  

5. Have you ever thrown your panties/underwear at a rock star or other celebrity? If so, which one(s)? If not, which one(s) WOULD you throw your panties/underwear at, given the opportunity?

I have never thrown my underpants to anyone.  However, it just so happens that I did throw my panty hose at a Matador while in Tijuana watching a bull fight.  But, cerveza (beer) did play a major role in that fiasco (and I did have underpants on under the hose).  This incident is on my list for a future post.  

6. You’re out of clean panties. What do you do?

Go commando!  Duh!  btdt (been there done that)

7. Are you old enough to remember Underoos? If so, did you have any? Which ones?

No.  But, I'm old enough to know that Cleopatra probably didn't wear undies.  However, I haven't a clue what Underoos are.  Must have missed those.  Let me check on the internet... ... ... 

Oh, I see.
These came out in 1977 (when I was 36).
 They probably didn't have them for adults.
But. if they did I would have chosen these.

8. If you could have any message printed on your panties, what would it be?

BACK OFF!, I'm too old for that kind of S#!T...

9. How many bloggers does it take to put panties on a goat?

SIX
One to club the goat over the head.

One to put the panties on.
One to take pictures.
One to bail the first three out of jail for animal cruelty & malicious mischief.
One to pay off the farmer whose goat was violated.
One to write up the blog post.


Come on....only nine...there should be at least ten questions when doing a survey.  Every statistician knows that.


10.  What was your most embarrassing moment involving your panties?


Don't have any, BUT I SURE HOPE YOU DO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now to choose a few friends who won't mind playing along. So here we go....

You can if you want to but...NOPE, you know me better than that.  I don't always follow the rules  (Ergo, the picture change).  So let me try this... ... 

Any of you reading this post, who would like to rise to this challenge, please do, and then comment back to me so I will know that you did so.  (That is all except Christine Lucas who begged to be include  http://christinalucas.blogspot.com/).

The challenge is to MAKE ME LAUGH.  COME ON, I DARE YOU!

kt 8/6/2011 

SEE YOU NEXT MONDAY FOR...... 
"#204 -

 "BOO, BUG-A-BOO, TOBY AND A KITTY TOO"

BE SURE TO WRITE THE 8/29 ON YOU CALENDAR 

FOR MY FAVORITE STORY.
  

PS:  My granddaughter  has moved four hours away to another tow (Amen).  Call me crazy but, I will miss the little ones (and I am not talking about the critters!).  

TO FISHDUCKEY:  THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF GLITCHES IN THE BLOGSPOT PROGRAM.  AND,THERE ARE ALL KINDS OF THINGS FOR ME TO REMEMBER TO DO.  PUT THOSE TWO ISSUES TOGETHER AND S#!T HAPPENS.  


USUALLY I TRY TO SCHEDULE BLOGS AHEAD SO I WON'T MISS A MONDAY POST (DUE TO LIFE'S LITTLE SURPRISES).  ANYWAY, WHEN I FINISH A POST I SCHEDULE A DATE FOR ITS RELEASE.  THEN I HAVE TO CLICK ON "PUBLISH POST."  HOWEVER, SOMETIMES THE DARN THING POSTS IMMEDIATELY.  IF THAT HAPPENS I HAVE TO IMMEDIATELY WITHDRAW IT OR IT MESSES UP EVERYTHING.  ONLY, THE SNAPSHOT OF THAT POST DOESN'T COME OF AT THE SAME TIME.  I HAVE A NAME FOR THIS.  I CALL IT C.R.A.P. (Computer Related Attacks by Poltergeists.


BY THE WAY...I DEFINITELY LOOK FORWARD TO YOUR COMMENTS.  I JOIN WITH MY BLOGGER FRIENDS AND AGREE THAT YOU SHOULD START YOUR OWN BLOG.  THINK ABOUT IT.  WE BLOGGERS ARE REAL HELPFUL AND WILL ANSWER QUESTIONS AND HELP.  THINK ABOUT IT.     kt