Hiya Folks,

I am writing from bed, looking like a poor pirate who couldn’t get a part in the Pirates of the Caribbean movie.  Scarf tied on my head, although not always on straight.   In fact, hardly ever.  Hair sticking out in every direction from underneath the scarf.  Bandana tied around my neck to keep the Vick’s on my chest warm.  Red scaly nose that looks like I’ve been into the ship’s store of rum.

I wish!!

I know I said yesterday that I had moved on to Stage Two of this cold. I think I’m still there. The nasal itchiness has moved to the right,    ( ” Always to the right!  Never to the left.”  from a song  sung by the Southern conservatives in the musical  1776—–love that musical)  continuing to confound  me with its  mysterious purpose.

Well, at least I’m getting back to somewhat normal!  I can tell by the degree with which I can be distracted.  Look, there’s a bunny rabbit!

Anyway, I can explain the title.  I only had one place to plug in, the other being taken up by the bed.  With my luck, the bed would deflate if unplugged.  I had to unplug the radio to plug in the laptop.  One of the two had to last on battery power and I had already used up the battery power on the laptop.

Hence the title, Robbing Peter to Pay Paul.

It reminds me of the lack of outlets in the house I grew up in.  The house was built in 1905 and was outfitted with gaslights which had been changed to electricity long before we moved in. My bedroom was in the back of the house and had one light bulb that arced out from the wall near the door. That was okay;  it was a small room.

When I was healthy, there wasn’t a problem.  But should I have a cold or croup and we had to use the steamer, my mom unscrewed the lightbulb and screwed in an outlet plug.   And the steamer would begin to whistle.  No light to look at books, no radio to listen to because there was only one in the house and it was a big wooden one about the size of a breadbox.  The steamer was already taking up residence on the wooden chair next to my bed—-no room for the radio anyway.

But I do remember listening to that radio in my mom and dad’s bedroom and thinking that the light underneath and off to the side of the glass panel that had the numbers on it was a desk lamp for the people who were talking to me through the radio.  They were inside that radio, sitting at a desk,

And, of course it was The Good Neighbor,  WCCO.

I remember putting my face up to that glass trying to see those people.  I was convinced I could see the lamp and the table.

I had a good childhood.

Happy Thanksgiving,

Janet