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There was a time when I had a doctor – A doctor – ONE doctor. Now, by last count, I have twenty-two medical folks charged with keeping me alive and well 0 as well as someone my age of eighty-seven can be. And, that does not include the staff at my local pharmacy. I’m told by my caregivers that I’m okay for my age.

Since January 1 of this year (2026), things have happened – my old body seems to be double crossing me. My head doesn’t want to go along with this double cross – arguing with every destructive step.

Last week, my blog shared some info about animals I had in my classroom when I was teaching – at the country school, the public school, and the school  at a world-renowned hospital. I’d like to continue talking about those critters – even though, I’ve had others who lived with me in my home. For this week, let’s go back to school.

I left the “school animal” stories at a place where my classroom had been moved from the building with the two offices that had been converted to classrooms to the new school building.

Critters I Have Known – Perso

For thirty years, I served my country as an educator. And, I think – Once an educator – always, an educator. It was always my idea that a classroom – the four walls – was just a place in which children could be introduced to the world. Sometimes, that introduction was by reading books and magazines, verbal instruction from the teacher, and such, and getting as much “learnin’” as possible from the task. I also thought that an important part of the education process was bringing the outside in. Or, taking the children – out.

Last week, I wrote about my mother canning foods for the winter. As a young mother, I also canned foods for our winters.  And, I used a pressure cooker – a more modern version than that of my mother. Mine did not have the wing-nut closures. Rather, it simply had a way of putting pressure on the rubber ring that was the seal between the lid and the base.  Of course, it still had the pressure guage on top, as well as the pressure release valve and “petcock.”

Sometimes, I wonder just how well we plan ahead. Do we plan ahead for holiday celebrations? If we’re expecting a new family member – do we plan ahead to welcome that babe? Do we plan ahead for our retirement. Personally, planning ahead may not be my best attribute. And, although I think I’m pretty good at planning a week’s menus, for example, after the planning is done – even after the groceries to make that food has been purchased – I don’t always execute the plan for the meals.

Many, many years ago, in the innards of the Columbine State, there lived a gentle man named Larry. A family man, was he; a good provider for his family of daughters. Often a skeptic of their activities. Particularly, skeptical of the activities that were promoted by his wife.

This quiet, gentle man lived in a community that loved him, trusted him, and, in general, thought he was “the cat’s meow.” He went to work every day at a job where he was well-respected by his fellow co-workers. A retailer was he – and a very fine retailer, indeed!

You know how we say, “You can’t teach an old dog new tricks”? Well, that’s not exactly true. Today, it’s often thought of as a myth. Still we use the idiom referring not only to whether senior dogs can learn to do new things, as well as whether human seniors can do the same. Being set in our ways, we older folks like the “way things were,” more than the “new-fangled happenings.” The new music. The new styles of art. New housing designs. These “new” things just don’t fit with our idea of what should be!

In today’s world, we use a stone to represent the month of the year in which we were born; thus, we call them birthstones. My birthstone, because my birth was in July, is ruby. Personally, I love the red of the stone that I have –  a gift from Larry, years ago. He was a department manager and later a store manager at Sears stores in my metropolitan area before moving on to other retail enterprises. He was, at heart, a retailer and a good one.

I got to thinking the other day as I drove by the building that still has, “Frank, the Pizza King,” on the sign. It’s not Frank’s anymore. In fact, it has not been Frank’s for years. His daughter took over the business when he passed.

February really is a funny month. First, it is not thirty days, not thirty-one days; rather it is either twenty-eight or twenty-nine days. It’s as though the designers of our calendar just couldn’t decide what to do with all of those extra hours  left over from other months.