Fourteen and how to research a thing like a mini search topic paper thing

  A mini isearch. I could talk about nutrition, the thing I want to do with my life. Thought about Economics, as I am worrying about the food heat gas for the car issues that are prevailing on my wallet right now. Possibilities there but it was such a large topic. Breaking it down into sections did not help either because Microeconomics and Macroeconomics were still to large a topic for me to write an itty-bitty essay about. Bingo, which is one of my favorite games. Ask anyone who had won our four hundred dollar jackpot how excited they were about it, you would probably get a list of why they loved Bingo. I have played the game for years. I volunteer there quite regularly when I am not in school trying to drill knowledge into my brain and  not have it leak out.
    I started with Bingo, (the adult version) in spring of 2006. I volunteered there for many years first as a runner and then as a relief banker adding selling of the special games and fifty/fifty tickets. I was then tapped to be the caller. It is not often that you see women callers and that is for a very definite reason, no one likes to see grown ups cry. Most women do after the crowd gets through with them for making a mistake, whatever the mistake would be. I have literally seen some of the men vow never to come back to the hall after such troubles. I thought they were being a bit overly dramatic but they seemed to think being yelled at for calling the wrong number was a bit out of line. I was the banker for many years and even balanced out the monthly checkbooks and sent of the proper monthly paperwork to the state police gaming commission who is the duly authorized agent for the State to handle such things as Bingo and pull tickets or Lucky Sevens as they are officially known as and high stakes bingo.
    As I continue in my thoughts of Bingo, I realized that although I know the people and the operation there at my Legion hall, I know most of the rules that apply to the small stakes bingo games, I really have no idea about what is going on in High Stakes bingo nor do I know anything about the rest of the games of chance or anything about how bingo came to be such an unusual American pastime.
    The History of Bingo started out in Europe, specifically Italy, as more of a Lottery, (http://www.strangelife.com/bingodoc/bingohist.html) than the Bingo that we play today. I would have thought the way the Indians felt about it, that it was something to do with them, but no it is one of the few European things that the Indians took to. Indians refer to high stakes Bingo as the, "new buffalo" because it is a single source capable of feeding and clothing the Indians, much like the buffalo used to. (http://www.library.ca.gov/crb/97/03/Chapt4.html)
      In short, Bingo has been around in its earliest forms since 1530 when it was invented as a state run lottery by the Italians and through various changes has come to be the modern game of Bingo. In the early 1930's. High stakes bingo started in Florida by the Indians and after fighting with the State of Florida about minor legalities, which the Indians won, the games were allowed to be conducted on tribal lands without state interference. Several states have since followed suit allowing their local state tribes to conduct the high stakes on tribal lands  (http://www.library.ca.gov/crb/97/03/Chapt4.html)
     Although it is technically a form of gambling, I personally do not equate it with other games of chance. I equate it with any other sporting endeavor. there is strategies that can be applied. Sometimes they are superstition other times they can be as simple as not sitting next to the woman that talks constantly through the whole night and distracts everyone around her. Good for her because you are going to miss a number sooner or later. There is also the fact that you have to develop the skill to search out the number you want in a set amount of time the more cards you can scan in the allotted time limit then the more chances to win you are capable of. I know some ladies and gentlemen that can play up to 30 cards at any given time sometimes more if they feel like it.
     Bingo is a very sociable game. You are sitting next to a group of your friends and between games there is a lot of joking around a laughing going on. You are not just there to gamble.  I look at it like any other athletic event, you pay your entrance fee, hone your skills to beat your opponent, and use whatever strategy you can think of to give you an edge over the other guys. There is an element of skill as well luck that goes into playing these games. As a runner in a race can stumble and fall you can miss that all important number, or have to go to the bathroom, or even stamp the wrong number accidentally.
     We have several of what I call God's Special People, playing the games on a quasi regular basis. Our Legion Hall is very protective of them, recognizing that it is a beneficial chance for them to get out and socialize and be around society in an accepting setting. We do not allow them to play more than one card unless we know they can handle more than one card. (http://www.ncrta.org/Professional/benefits.htm
 

week thirteen curtseys to her queen

    From the beginning of page one to the very last most delectable word, this story took me away and deposited me in the Scottish Highlands, circa the Dark Ages. The author, Julie Garwood's vivid descriptions of the Scottish Highlands, with their mountain lochs and wooded glens, created a picture in my mind that stole my heart and gave me a new item for my bucket list, visiting Scotland some day. Barring that I will continue to live in the mountains of Maine, which are the closest I can come to it for right now.
      The story is a simple boy-marries-girl, then boy-doesn't-know-what-hit-him-from-then-on-as-girl-completely-runs-rings-around-him-and-leaves-him-with-the-misconception-that-he-has-any-control-what-so-ever-in-his-own-life. See, what could be more simple than that? From when we first meet our heroine, standing on the back of a horse that is running through a field for the sheer joy of it, she shows us that she is made of sturdy stuff. The author has her shouldering the burdens of responsibility constantly but every once in awhile the character does her own thing, almost as if she slips it in on the author when Madam Garwood is not looking.
     There is also the subplots of the heroine's sister who is married to Alec Kinkaide's neighbor. In laws drive me nuts too, and she absolutely frazzled her new brother in law. Then there was the jilted English Baron, Jaime's first fiancee, having already paid the bride price to Jaime's father, who had gambled it away and could not repay it. He arrived on the doorstep of the Kincaides, with his army and a severe issue about getting either his money or his bride back. The murder of Alec's first wife who every one but Jaime thought had committed suicide, and was bound and determined to murder the second as well. Throw into the mix, a tremulous new priest, and a cantankerous old warrior bound and determined to find something to do while he recuperates from a battle injury, and you have everything you could possibly need for a sexy, suspenseful, page turner; destined to become one of those books you never want to give away.
     While reading this story I laughed, I cried, and was completely impressed with the ability of the author to reach from the pages of her book and touch my heart with her characters. They have become my new best friends and I will check in on them from time to time for many years to come.
   

week twelve hits the shelves...see your "Slim" and raise you "The Bride"

     I have been reading as long as I can remember and most of the time I do not remember from one day to the next what books I have actually read. I once had a friend that wrote down every book he ever read. I was impressed with the organizational gene that he had been born with, however, I am not that anal and could not remember the books from last month that I read, let alone the ones from years before. I have read everything I could from the time I could pick up a book and read it, or the cereal box, whichever. I read many different types of books and was banned from a few after I read them. Little like shutting the door after the horse was loose, thank God for baseball games on television or I would have been banned from  a lot more I think.
     In high school I was introduced to the Greek mythological stories and all the beauty of them. Kudos to you Edith Hamilton and Homer, for all your hard work which brought so many teenagers and college students weak eyesight, many headaches, and a glimpse into the beauty of the Greek and Roman poetry and prose. It taught me to dream of being loved by a God, and the beauty of far away places in long ago times. Right about the time I was getting that headache, excuse me, increasing my knowledge, I was introduced to the herstorical romance genre of reading material. I absolutely fell in love with these types of stories because it fulfilled so many of my yearnings created by Homer and Hamilton. Yearnings of a budding, very curious, young woman who loved to learn, who desired to travel and meet new people, old ones too, for that matter and wanted to experience being in love and describing it as timeless. Plus the covers weren't bad either. Ah Fabio...in a buccaneer costume...I digress.
     For a young teenage girl in rural Maine, this was really heady stuff. I prowled the libraries, the local Mr. Paperback of my town, my neighbors' attics and garages, looking for books that were written in this venue. After a time I realized that there were books out there that were ok, for a rainy afternoon and then there were books that I became so engrossed in, they would literally transport me to another time and place. I became as a fly on the wall of these people's lives. I do not know who the majority of the people were who wrote these stories but, in this genre, one writer stands out above them all, Julie Garwood.
     I have read everything I ever could get my hands on by her. Her stories are so well written and her characters are so three dimensional that they have become my friends. Every time I read her newest story, it is like meeting someone new. Julie makes her characters flawed and lovable, admirable, desirable, stubborn, arrogant, and...well...human. They could be the people living next door to you. When they get into trouble you want to help them. Everything by Julie Garwood is written in this truly gifted fashion; there is one book of hers that reaches me above all of them and that is this book "The Bride."
       In Garwood's story, "The Bride" we are presented with an elder daughter of a British nobleman. He is not the brightest of men, although he does love his five daughters very much, and has gambled away the King's tax. In retribution, the King gives Laird Alec Kincaide the right to choose a wife from amongst the five of them as well as a neighboring laird traveling with him. They toss a caber (debranched pine tree) to see who has first pick. The Laird Kincaide wins and chooses the eldest daughter, Jaime, marries her then and there, carrying her off the the Scottish Highlands. After some some time and lots of settling in together, they discover who murdered his first wife, avert a war with the British, and unite the area highland clans who are always feuding.
     All of Garwood's characters are three dimensional and very real, but I have a particular liking for Jaime because as much as she can, in that time period, she takes control of her life, she is independent and funny. Plus her description reminds me so much of the young Elizabeth Taylor. Although that is a trite reason and is shallow and superficial I can't help but think that is what was in the author's mind when she introduced us to this character.
     I live in a trailer and have very little storage room, as trailers are notorious for not having any, so I have to keep books in one small bookcase for now, and this is one of the few books that I keep to reread. I visit my friends when ever things in my own life demand that I take a few minutes and escape to another time, another place, where my friends are all waiting to tell me again, the story of their life.
 

week eleven I can't wait to go a sleddin...how to process

     Cooking, is a lot more than just the ordinary slice and dice that you see at a restaurant. I think that is why I do not like to go out to eat on a regular basis. It is fun once in awhile but it cannot compare to the atmosphere created in your own home while you are cooking dinner for your family. The kitchen, for me, has always been the heart of my home. It is where I fed my family, teaching my children the alphabet, while eating alphabet soup, of course. It is where I ironed my first husband's uniforms, walked babies around the table while I waited for bottles to heat up, or medicines to go down. This part of the house is where every cherished holiday memory started for me and it is, now that I am back in school, where I do the lion's share of my homework at.
     I live in a little two bedroom trailer and, of the common area, the kitchen takes up about a third of the space. The makers of my trailer, who have long since passed into obscurity, were ingenious at putting in cupboards and cabinets right where I would need them and yet leave me room to look out the window while I eat, especially since there is only one way the table will fit in here. My trailer has forty year old paneling that showed forty years worth of use and abuse on them. At first there was even some kind of mushroom growing out of the wall down by the floor, and it took me along time to decide what I wanted to do with the kitchen after I removed the mushroom, but eventually I found the wallpaper that made my heart go pitter patter. I bought all the rolls of it that were in the thrift store. Thank God there was enough for the whole kitchen because that was going on the wall whether there was enough or not. I slapped up a coat or three of paint to trim off the wallpaper with, and just recently found the perfect wall border. The old wooden cupboards I kept the same, some copper accents strategically placed, and I have an old world style kitchen, kind of a rustic European country look.
     Everything meshes together perfectly. Feng shway people would be impressed. My point to this blathering ramble is, that when my family comes in the house and sits down to eat, there is a pleasant atmosphere to the place blending the old with the new. Kind of like my family. I have blended my three children with my new husband and his two children. I did not trim them in wallpaper and paint but I did get some things they liked; pillows, towels, their own dishes etc. One of the boys lives with me now and I am incorporating him into the fabric of my family, just like my pico de gallo.
     I picked up this recipe somewhere in Texas about 20 years ago and for all family functions, I have made a big heaping bowl full of the stuff. It goes on everything and with everything. My son, when he comes home on leave from the war, is usually at me to make him some to put on his food while he is here. His own bowlful of the stuff, I comply and within a few hours he is happily slathering it on everything he can put his hands on in the kitchen. My son-in-law once made me a bookcase for which I paid with a bowlful of Pico de Gallo. It is the only thing that my daughter will eat jalapenos in. I get the freshest ingredients that I can find. I then slice, dice, shred, squirt, and toss it all together to create a new family memory.
     Something happens when I make the pico. Everyone comes into the kitchen and sits around the table and they all begin to eat...and tell stories. It starts innocently enough with the accusations of double-dipping and somehow gets to Jeremy getting dish soap squirted down his throat and ending up throwing up bubbles out his nose. Every time he coughed bubbles came out, which made us laugh, and then he would choke some more. It was the strangest poison control call I ever made, the guy on the other end of the phone was even laughing. It goes from Jeremy right around the table and, before you know it, we are all laughing and having such a good time. The pico in the restaurants might be fancier, made by chefs, maybe even more authentic, but for my family only Mom's pico will do. I try to tell them it is not really the pico but it is the family and the fun and the little bit of love that goes in it, that is what makes the difference I think. I am not sure they buy that explanation though.
     Recently I had surgery on my arm and the day of my surgery the children, who were at my house, asked me to make a bowl of the pico for them before I left for the hospital so they could have something to snack on while I was having the surgery done. I of course agreed and set about making a big bowl of it. I still have some left. Casey asked me to save it for him and he would make me an omelet when he got home, he went to his stepfather's house this weekend. Considering how he lost his mom, the thought of another mother in the hospital probably is sending him right up the wall. I have his pico here and have saved out some eggs too. He makes the best omelets and they go so well with the pico.

A Woman's Reply to a Nymph...by me

Spring to summer in fields of green
A shepherd man hunts for his queen
Her treasures bright and glorious, found
By beating heart of Love unbound.

Upon the rocks and river’s dam
With Lady love he’ll hold the lamb,
To guard them both while birds do sing
Til winter’s breath the sap does bring.

As time goes on to wintry night,
With Lady love and glowing light,
The shepherd man his flocks do tend
To Lady love his knee doth bend 

For trinkets that the shepherd made
His Lady love, in wooded glade,
She’ll give to him her maiden days
For love she does the shepherd’s ways.

A ring of gold and wedding veil
A rope of pearls and roses pale
For faith she goes down petaled aisles
To promise him eternal smiles

Youth is fine for childhood fear
But adults know that time is dear.
Little nymph you must choose wise,
For love, like life, moves quick, then dies.

Edit Delete

week 10 I'm Getting Out of the Fen

    Community service in America is not something ordinary people normally do. I cannot speak for the rest of the population, only what I am directly involved in. I personally am involved in four different organizations in my community: The American Legion, and its counterpart for the wives,mothers, sisters, and daughters of vets, The American Legion Ladies Auxilliary, The Piscataquis County Fair Association, and The Shiretown Homecoming Festival (Old home days). The thing that gets me really steamed is that even though some of the names and faces are different amongst the organizations, they are basically the same people, doing the different fundraisers and events to see that the vast majority of the community can enjoy some really fun family events. Without these same people there would be no parades culminating in fireworks on the beach, haunted houses for the public, maple Sunday breakfasts, bingo nights at the hall, or county fairs for our area. Most of these volunteers did not just learn to volunteer overnight. If you talk to them you will find that most of them say they have always volunteered for things, that they grew up watching their parents volunteer, and it is a way of life for them. It began in their homes, and was reinforced in their school and became a way for them to socialize with those of a like mind as adults.
   Learning to volunteer begins at home. Children learn what they live, this has been proven over and over through out generations. If children learn to chip in and do their fair share at home, then they will do it in the community. By making all the family members responsible for the smooth running of the home, the children learn on a most basic necessary level that they are important to their family. Their job is important and their help is important, there for they are important. If we carry that thought out just a bit more, when children see that care and concern for the community are important than they will care about their communities also. Where ever they go in life they will bring their caring with them because it has been taught and then reinforced by the families and friends they grew up with.
   Learning to volunteer is reinforced with the youngsters at local schools. I am glad to see one change in education today, since my time of going to school, is the requirement of community service every year for our students. It is a good start, however the amounts of time required are not enough for the kids to learn how vital their volunteering really is. That being said, it can usually be seen, by the time they are in high school, who the future volunteers of the next generation are going to be; they are usually involved in everything. If not for them volunteering to see that things get done, then there would be no proms, homecomings, pep rallys, and the list can go on and on.
   As a young adult volunteering is a great way to have a change of pace from the work and the routine that you normally do. It creates an outlet for the volunteer to meet people they ordinarily would not have, socialize, and maybe get some on the job training or networking contacts for their future endeavors . There are hospital aides, people to help with shut ins, hotlines to be manned, free legal aid or accounting help is always needed. Towns and counties are increasingly hit with budget shortfalls, having volunteers to help with filing and simple jobs around the town could not be appreciated enough.
   In these worsening economic times it falls to the ordinary guy to do extraordinary things. Learning to do extraordinary things begins in the home, and by way of reinforcement, in the schools, and by choice as a young adults.We all have to pitch in to help our fellow man and learning to do it now when they really need it makes it that much more appreciated when it isn't.

week 9 I Am Behind

    My life right now is filled with an unbelievable amount of stress. I am currently on food stamps and every year in around this time, I have to find every scrap of financial information from the last three months, drag it all into the DHHS office, swearing and affirming that it really is my information. After all the time I have taken to find it, taken an afternoon off to drag it all into the DHHS office sitting for hours waiting for my number to be called and my case to be processed, I usually find out at this point that I have forgotten at least two items absolutely necessary for the food stamps/MaineCare to continue. I now have to hang on to all said documents and find the missing pieces because since I qualify for these items, I am going to need them for an appointment with Penquis Cap for my heating allowance. At that appointment, I get told I am missing four pieces of information, because it is doubly more important than food stamps. By the end of the appointment I grab all my paperwork, which I cram into my Algebra II book because I was under the impression I would actually get to study the stupid equations while I was waiting to be seen, (I call them stupid because if they can't solve themselves how am I supposed to do it?), and I head back to my classes.
    My week consists of classes on Tuesday (Algebra and American Sign Language). Wednesday I work for 6 hours and then have classes in the afternoon into the evening (Anatomy/Physiology classes with a lab immediately following) Thursday is a repeat of Tuesday except at the end of my day I help out at my American Legion Hall with their weekly Bingo night. Tuesday and Thursdays I also work at the gym on campus for a couple hours a day for my Federal Work Study Program. That gives me Friday to Monday to do all the homework for those classes and then to do the work for two online English classes, plus laundry, shopping, and cooking for the following week if need be. It is after all October/November by now and the trailer needs to be buttoned up for the winter, windows caulked, leaves raked, plastic up, and furnace cleaned.
   Monday night I have to take my granddaughter to her basketball practice. Every other Tuesday I have a meeting at the hall for the Legion and the Legion Ladies Auxiliary, of which I hold dual memberships, I literally have to be in both meetings at the same time which luckily are in the same building, I have taken to sitting in the doorway so I can listen to both meetings. Recently I have taken on the position of Secretary for the Ladies Auxiliary as Jeannette who was the elected secretary was no longer able to handle the stress of the job.
   I have raised my three kids and I am now in the process of trying to get my husband's son through high school. It is not looking promising for accomplishing that with this child. He is going to go down a different road than the other kids. His father's road I guess, which ended up in prison, for a long stretch. I keep wanting to mention something about falling apples and trees here but I guess I will pass on that opportunity. This is not my son's first brush with the legal system and I am pretty sure it is not going to be his last. I go to church almost every Sunday with the grandkids and we have a potluck there once a month, I bring the grandkids, all three of them.
   I am on unemployment so every week I have to call the Unemployment office and tell them how many hours I worked this week and what my total check was. Then once every six weeks I have to send in a work log of everyone I have applied for a job with. I am responsible for keeping the lights on, the phone running, the internet working, the sewer connected, the taxes paid and the water pumping, the furnace heating, the car insured and the full of gas, the kid in school and his homework done. I have homework and work assignments due for 6 of my own classes. Plus the little old lady that I cart all over town once or twice a week.
  I lately have begun to wonder what would happen if for some reason I just ran away.  I mean really, what would happen if I took my car and went to the coast for the week or two, just to watch the sunrise and the sunset off the waters of the Atlantic? I am thinking the personal private worlds of everybody who has anything to do with my life would come to a grinding halt, I would probably hear my name bandied about on the radio as a missing person. I would probably have to be careful as the police would be looking for me thinking I had come to foul play or a mental snap.
   I know my granddaughter Halle, would be having a drama fest, with my son-in-law right there with her. Little Mercedes who is only four would walk around to everyone saying, "Cmon, what is your problem? Nana only went shopping." That is Mercedes answer to everything. Go shopping. Damien is a quiet little fella when deeply upset or scared; he is a good grandson, always trying to share stuff with me so I know he loves me very much. He does not willingly share a toothpick with a pine tree. He would be in his room under the blanket I got him with his favorite stuffed dog.
   Most of the world would of course go on with out me, my classes would continue for which I would receive a zero; there go my good grades. The red tape that I have to deal with on a weekly, monthly, quarterly, semi-annually and yearly basis would get considerably more snarled, taking longer to unsnarl then before my get away but it would get straightened out.
   My children however would have a hissy fit the size of the Maine coastline. The shock of not being able to tell me what to do might just kill them. They seem to need to speak to me every day or email me of their exploits overseas. I told my oldest son once that he could talk to me about his issues of the war as a mother and as a veteran, if he had to be tough enough to live the war, I could be tough enough to hear about it. I am not sure that was a wise statement, but I have held true to my word and we have cried together a few times.
   My son who is still at home, whom I love very much is a so busy being a teenager that I think he would not really mind very much, he might throw a party. When I do make it back home I will probably have to scoop the teenagers off the top of my trailer with a shovel, rolling them down the river bank and letting the water carry their snoring carcasses away down the river. They will wake up before they hit the dam. I will have to take Mercedes and go grocery shopping as there will not be one scrap of food left in the house, and I will owe the neighbors something I am sure.
  The boys that are in the service, when learning of my disappearance, would contact the Red Cross to come home and help search for me, this of course would necessitate informing the Army, the Marine Corps and the Air Force that one of their service members is missing a parent. I do not think the small town police could handle all those congressional investigations and inquiries.
    My daughter who lives with just as much stress as I do would be getting every WalMart in Maine to help look for her Mommy, that is not even close to an exaggeration. She has hives if she does not talk to me every day as it is.
   My husband is up for parole in a couple of weeks and not being able to communicate with me frequently would cause another stroke for him. 'Where is she,' and, 'what is she doing,' being urgent need-to-be-answered-right-now questions for him. He is not very good at waiting for answers.
   I am quite sure that the Legion would truly miss me if I disappeared for a couple of weeks, as I get phone calls 2 or 3 times a week about Hall/Bingo/Legion/Auxilliary business. There is a lot of veterans in Maine who want to prove they are still just as capable as they were in the service and God help us all they would set up patrols. Those old salts know how to get a big job done.
  One small thing that really would happen is that I would actually get some rest, recharging my batteries to deal with the problems that come up on a day-to-day basis, which for a short time, would be a bit more snarled but then eventually, unlike my Algebra II equations, would straighten themselves out. Maybe I really ought to run away this week... before I have to have my surgery on Thursday.