Tick tock

Had my grandmother’s wonderful clock repaired lately (Thank you Wiley’s! Wish you were still on Broadway but I think I’d travel any distance for your service. And just downtown isn’t that far away). I inherited this from my Gramma Freda Anderson; she lived in Minnesota like all good transplanted Swedes. She wore cotton house dresses, Keds runners and always an apron. I am very happy I ended up with this clock that always sat next to her bed. Judy at Wiley’s says the guts are all metal, not like the cheapies nowdays with the plastic innards. This is the only clock we trust to never fail us when we have to be up at 4 a.m. for one of those fabulous Saskatoon 6 a.m. flights! Thanks, Gramma.

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And speaking of ticks, the little buggers are out and about in full force this spring. The cat hauled one in the other night. I felt itchy for days! I found this handy guide online if you ever find a tick on your person, or spouse (unfortunately rhymes with louse), child or pet. This is from The Art of Manliness. Man or woman, finding a tick is no time to be squeamish. Be calm (although this is a little like Bill Bryson’s descrption of being told to stand very still if he ever came across a snake in the Australian outback. Stand still? A human being has never moved so fast:

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