My impression of American Football


It is football season – American football that is. I have never understood how a game played primarily with the hands can be called ‘football’. But then, I don’t understand the game at all. I’ll try to give you my impression of a televised, professional football game.

Now the way I understand it, a football game consists of four, fifteen-minute periods separated in the middle with a half hour break. This means the game should last one and one half hours – not so.

In the first place there is the pre-game show in which the announcers tell you what is going to happen in the game based on statistics (guesses). This is similar to political commentators telling what the President is going to say before a speech.

Then we finally start the actual game. There are eleven players on each team on the field for the kick-off in which one team kicks the ball to the other team which catches it and runs toward the goal post at the end of the field until they get stopped. Then the clock stops and the twenty-two players on the field leave the field and twenty-two others take their place. This happens every time the ball changes hands. Finally after approximately thirty minutes, the first quarter is over. I’m not sure if the teams change sides of the field here or not. But they play another quarter which takes another half hour.

Then we have half time. This consists of several things:

  1. The teams retire to their respective locker rooms where the coaches proceed to tell them what they did right or wrong in the first half.
  2. The commentators tell the people watching on TV why what they said was going to happen didn’t and what will happen in the second half. (Again like political commentators).
  3. Scantily-clad young women prance around the center of the field. This has no bearing on the outcome of the game. I can only assume they are there to warm up the men in the audience.

Now it’s time for the second half which is a repeat of the first half.

It is now about three hours since the pre-game show started and we still have the post-game show in which the whole game is analyzed and re-hashed via re-plays.

English As It Is Spelled

When my grandmother died, we found this poem by Isabel Smythe among all of the birthday and Christmas cards in my grandfather’s old smoke stand.

This year – I firmly made a vow

I’m going to learn to spell.

I’ve studied phonics very hard.

Results will surely tell.


“A little bird sat on a bough

And underneath there stood a cough.”

That doesn’t look just right somehow.

I guess I should have spelled it cou.


“I thought I heard a distant cough

But when I listened, it shut outh.”

Oh, dear I think my spelling’s awf.

I guess I meant I hard a coff.


“To bake a pizza – take some dough

And let it rise, but very slough.”

That doesn’t look just right, I know.

I guess on that I sutbbeed my tow.


“My father says down in the slough

The very largest soybeans grough.”

Perhaps he means, “The obvious cloo

To better crops, is soil that’s nue.”


“Cheap meat is often ver tough.

We seldom like to eat the stough.”

I’m all confused – this spelling’s ruff.

I guess I’ve studied long enuph.


Cora’s Heart

Cora has been hurt too many times, and by one man in particular . . .Abandoned by her mother and widowed in her mid-twenties, Cora Sylvan has learned the hard way that you should take nothing in life for granted. So everything is planned out to the last degree – from how to run her farm on a shoestring to how to survive a major earthquake.

Unfortunately, there’s nothing in those notes to cover the return of the infuriatingly handsome Mac Wildwood, her husband’s cousin, the man she loved and lost. And Mac, it seems, has a secret plan of his own up his sleeve. Cora Sylvan safeguarded everything – but she didn’t protect her heart . . .

* * *

“What if ….” This has been Cora’s mantra for many years. She even has a diary in which she lists all types of catastrophes. She has a storm shelter stocked with everything she’d need in case of an emergency (except an earthquake). She has made her farm into a self-sustaining business since the death of her husband. When her shed containing all of the hand-spun wool, knitting projects and canned food she intends to sell burns, she is at the end of her rope. Her life has been a series of disappointments and there is one more left to come.

Love, betrayal and an erroneous belief are all combined into a moving love story.

Murder in the Library


A man is found murdered in the locked library in his home. Surveillance cameras show that no one other than the deceased entered the library. The deceased left a clue for the police, only they cannot figure out what the clue means.

* * *

I often download free books. Sometimes, I find I can’t get into them. No so with Steve Demaree’s Murder in the Library.

I have always loved a good mystery, and this book did not disappoint. It reminded me of the old Perry Mason and Agatha Christie ‘locked room’ mysteries. I was totally surprised at the ending. I love the descriptions of the next door neighbor and her dog.

I look forward to reading more about Cy and Lou.


Is it just me?

I don’t know if it’s me or if other people notice it. I’ve read for years – after all, I’m 71 and started reading when I was 5, but I’ve never noticed so many typos, missed words, and grammatical errors as I have in the past year. Are editors getting lax or have I just become more cognizant of such things? And I’m not just talking about self-published books. Some have come from publishers who have editors on staff.

Cousins Four – Scott

Scott cover

The last time all four Johnson cousins-Lizzie, Mike, Catherine and Scott were together was Christmas thirteen years ago. Now their grandmother has called them home for what looks to be their grandfather’s last Christmas.


Scott left home right after high school graduation. His first stop was Chicago where he met and fell in love with Dan. After a tragic accident, he moved on to New York. It’s there Lizzie finds him performing in a drag show as Dealya Goodhand. Scott swears her to secrecy as to his whereabouts.

Bringing in the Hay

I told a man at church today that someday I’d tell him about me driving the tractor.

Bringing in the hay

Most people who’ve known me a long time, know I spent a lot of time on my grandparents’ farm as a child. But my ex-husband’s family considered me a ‘city girl’. My second daughter was born April 1, 1973. Fourth of July weekend, we went to visit my husband’s oldest sister and her family on a farm outside of Huntsville, MO. Jim, the brother-in-law, had baled hay in the field. Can’t remember how many fields, but there were several. And a lot of hay. The weatherman started forecasting severe thunderstorms headed our way. Now anyone who’s ever been on a farm knows what happens to baled hay if it gets wet and is put into the barn.

Here is a list of those present:

On the male side – my husband, his three brothers-in-law, Dale who was just short of 16, Darryl who was just short of 13, my son who was 11 and one other who was almost 11. Two or three younger ones who don’t count.

On the female side – me, my mother-in-law, my husband’s three sisters, Susan who was almost 16 and Lori almost 15. Of course there was Michelle who was 6 and Megan 3 months.

Now everyone knows – the men do the field work and the women cook the meals. Jim had three tractors and the plan was for Dale, Darryl and one other man to drive the tractors and the rest of the males to ‘buck the bales’.

You also know that no kitchen is big enough for five women. So I offered to drive one of the tractors and let Darryl buck the bales. You should have seen the look on Jim’s face. I told him, “Jim, I learned how to drive a tractor when I was 10.” So I went out and drove one of the tractors.

Yes, we made it before the rain started.