LET'S HEAR IT FOR THE BIRD

I’m just waiting for the flames to die down so I can clean up the kitchen a little. You are probably all saying the same thing, “Frank cooks?” Yes I do and contrary to the opinions of my children who one time endured an experiment with sweet and sour tuna fish and that one time I fixed corn pancakes I am a very good cook.
Barbara and I are spending Thanksgiving home alone, just the two of us. That has not happened in our entire married life. I think the rest will be good for both of us. We had invited the usual suspects but had to tell them they were on their own after Barbara's surgery. Lots of people have invited us to share the meal with them but we decided it would be better to have a quiet day at home.
The last time I had Thanksgiving without any family was in 1963 in Grenoble France. The French are, for the most part, ungrateful; so Thanksgiving has not spilled into their endless list of national holidays. Turkeys on the other hand are also ungrateful, but available only around Christmas. You can find them in the shop windows, hanging by their feet with head and feathers still attached. They don’t seem to mind the indignity. They hang there with the rabbits, quail, ducks and geese. It’s kind of like a barnyard on a hook but the animals are very quiet.
In 1963, my missionary companion Elder Hollinger from Panaca Nevada and I decided we wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving and get a turkey. We rode our Lambretta motor scooter 20 kilometers out of Grenoble and in a little village called Morrin we found a turkey at a farm house. It cost us 64 francs ($15.00) and weighed 8.5 kilos. The old farm woman put it in a feed sack and I held onto it while Elder Hollinger drove back to town. Unfortunately, someone cut us off and he drove into the ditch. I fell off but managed to hang on to the bird. I must have been some sight. A slightly stupid looking Mormon missionary wearing a suit, white shirt and tie and lying in a ditch with both arms wrapped around a turkey in a dirty feed sack. The turkey survived. Since it was only the 15th of November, we took the bird back to our apartment and tied it up in the bathtub. We fed it until the fateful day and I dispatched it with grace and a flick of the wrist. Dinner that year was mashed potatoes, gravy, dressing, and the toughest turkey I have ever eaten.
This year I am thinking that a couple of KFC two piece meals would be really good. I’ll make my own cranberry sauce.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

Keep Off the Roof

My wife Barbara has been suffering from a prolapsed disk in her lumbar spine for the last two months. The pain has been constant and sometimes quite severe. Last Tuesday I took her into the ER at our local hospital and they admitted her and immediately put her on morphine which eased the pain somewhat. Wednesday afternoon she underwent successful surgery to release the pressure from the disk on the nerve root to her left leg. The surgery appears to have successful and she is recovering nicely. Her doctor told her the injury was caused by old age.

A few weeks ago a good friend fell of the roof of his shed and was badly injured. He has spent a few weeks in a rehab center and I understand he has now returned home.
Today I found out that our former Stake President fell off a ladder yesterday while trying to clean his roof and suffered a concussion, two broken ribs, and a torn lung. In addition I find that another friend was just released from the hospital because of another medical problem. All are about the same age.

I have decided that sometimes bad news just needs another vehicle of delivery.Let me give you an example

Larry, a single guy with a cat, asked his friend Bob to watch his house and the cat for a few weeks while he was out of town. Bob said he would be glad to do so and Larry told him he would call every week to see how thing were going.
Larry called at the end of the first week and asked “How is everything?” Bob said, “Fine except your cat died.” Larry was terribly distraught but pulled himself together and said, Bob, you don’t just tell someone their cat died like that. It’s too brutal. You should say that the cat fell off the roof and it’s not doing well. You should have me call back and each day say that the cat is worse and then after a few days you can tell me that the cat died. That way it will soften the blow.” Bob said, “I understand, I guess I could have been a little more tactful. “Great” said Larry “I will call you next week.”

The next week Larry called again and asked “How is everything?” Bob answered; ”Fine except your mother fell off the roof.”

Thanks for listening, I feel much better. (And so does Barbara)

HEAVEN MAY BE DIFFERENT THAN YOU THINK

My very good friend Bentley (his first name is really Alan but just Bentley sounds so much more English Upscale) has informed me that although we both believe in a life hereafter ,and can achieve some sort of immortal glory based on our works on earth when we die; as we await the great resurrection, he believes we will be assigned to a temporary place in heaven according to our last and final dying words here on earth.
Yes, until the resurrection, we will be with all those other people who said the same thing we did when they died. Here are the categories ranked in order of most said to least said.
Oh s—t.
Hey watch this.
I’m not drunk; I’ll drive myself.
I can drive, talk on my cell and text at the same time. Watch.
The guns not loaded, see.
I wasn’t cheating on you. Put down the gun.
I’m fine. I make a doctor’s appointment next week.
If one pill will work, a whole bunch must be even better
No big deal. It’s not 220 Volts is only 110
What’s this bare wire for?
No I don’t think 92 is too old to be driving.
Sure the water is cold but I can swim to shore.
Lets cross here; the crosswalk is too far down the street.
If I throw up every time I eat, I won’t gain any weight.
I don’t feel good.
Good bye, I love you all.
Oops!
Huh?

I on the other hand, I believe that I will get to use my “Bank Time” when I get to heaven’s gate. I will be met by one of those guys that checks recommends at the temple, who will look for a long time at his computer screen and say “Well brother Frank it looks like you lived a pretty good life but there were a few sour deeds in your life for which you will need to spend 952 hours in Hell before being assigned to one of the above mentioned categories. At that point I will whip out my little black “Bank Time” book and explain that I spent many more hours than that in faculty meetings, PTA meetings, elementary school concerts, children’s Sacrament Meeting programs, parent- teacher conferences, Blue and Gold dinners, eating freeze dried food on week- long hikes, owning a 1985 Chrysler New Yorker, and preparing for my last colonoscopy. I will tactfully explain that I have already spent that time in Hell and have documents to prove it. I recommend that each of you keep track as well.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better

The Office

Sometime towards the end of September, I got a call from the Human Resources department of State Farm Insurance. They asked if I would be willing to come back to work for sixty days, they were shorthanded and honestly, it was flattering to be considered a good enough employee to be asked back. I figured what the heck, work for sixty days and be able to fly to Cartagena Columbia first class to visit Emily and her family or sixty days home detention.
The first problem was HR. My assigned rep. Bea Esser said that because I had been retired so long I would have to take a drug test and pass a background check. She said she would send me the paperwork overnight. Two days later it got to me. She sent it FedEx to the wrong address and wrong name. Three day delay. I finally got a call three weeks after she first called andlearned I was cleared to come to work. Obviously they did not speak with my parole officer Willy Bolt. After I had been working for two weeks, I got a letter from the medical specialist Lou Pole saying that my retirement package health insurance was being cancelled because I was a full time worker. The only problem was that I was actually listed as a seasonal employee and not qualified for any benefits. I called and spoke to Donatello Nobatti who told me a mistake had been made and he would take care of it. I am still waiting for the confirmation of reinstatement by mail. Actually, I am entitled to work 900 hours a year before it impacts any of my retirement benefits. Those responsible have been sacked.

I cannot watch “The Office” on TV because it is too much like where I work. The above photo is the row where my cubicle is located. I say cubicle but in reality they should be called rabbit hutches. Feed and water are provided in little bins on the side of each cube. If management feels rewards are in order, food appears in a vacant cube or at the end of the row. There are four rows just like this in my office. The managers, pit bosses and stat freaks have partitioned booths at the end of the rows. The big boss, Dan Defino, has a corner office with windows. Speaking of the big boss, there was a ‘Stand Up Meeting” a couple of days ago where we were all given a pat on the back for rendering exceptional customer service. I looked around at the group and immediately picked out the current office suck-up. Luke Howard Fitzhugh had on the exact same shirt and tie, pants and shoes as the Big Boss. Obviously someone is looking for a promotion. My guess is that he has already reached his level of competence and should be promoted to a management position within days. Holly Unlikely, the trainer said she did not think the promotion would come until after National Bosses Day. Something about gifting.

The Office is just like the classes I taught for thirty years. There are slow learners, those that don’t play well with others and those who parents need to read to them 90 min each day. There are those who try to cheat and manipulated the computer system to show they do more work that they actually do. One example is the electronic phone message. If you return a call you are suppose to use the pull down menu to add your name as the one who returned the call. Since I am a trouble maker, I pull a lot of those messages, make the call and then give credit to anyone of a half a dozen adjusters who I think could use the points. It really kills the manager’s stats. I think I’ll change my name to Dale Neverknow.

Most days I really enjoy it, but there are a few days where upon leaving the office I quote Martin Luther King Jr. “Free at last, free at last, Thank God I’m free at last.
Thanks for listening. I feel much better

Its Official

As I have long suspected, I have been married for all these years to Mother Theresa, (only hotter). This was confirmed to me in no uncertain terms today. My dear wife has been in miserable pain for three weeks, taking Vicoden, Tylenol and a variety of other meds for a severe pain in her left leg. It was finally diagnosed today as a herniated disk which is pressing on a nerve. Her doctor now has her on oxycontin pending an injection of steroids.

In spite of all this, I came into the kitchen today to find her making a big pot of soup on the stove; and she asked me to take it to a family down the street where both parents and all their children have the flu. How do I deserve this woman? Move over Mother Teresa.

Thanks for listening. I'm sure she'll feel better soon.

In Response to Your Many Requests (one)

Due to overwhelming demand, I am posting a photo of our son; the afore mentioned, in the previous post. Sorry girls he is married.

An Hour At Cabela's

My son Matt is in town with his wife to attend the wedding of one of her friends and when I invited him to go to Cabela's with me this morning he jumped at the chance. Cabela's, for those of you who don’t know, is a giant toy store for men. Not only can you buy toys there, you can also buy all kinds of costumes. Rustic camouflage costumes seem to be the most popular. In fact, Cabela's carries so much camo gear that you really can’t see it. You can even purchase a camouflaged porta-potty so you can poop in the woods and not even the bears will notice.
Hunting season is fast approaching and it appears there was a sale on shotguns and rifles. Either that or the entire male population of the county was trying to arm themselves. You have to take a number to be served at the gun counter and the count was up to 2345 when we walked by, so my guess is there are going to be a lot of dead ducks and deer around here or else there will be a huge upswing in the number of armed bank holdups in the next few days. It also appears like the ammo shortage that materialized last fall is finally easing and so I bought 200 rounds of 22 ammo to replace what I shot last week. The shortage was caused by Seth, Rupert and their idiot third cousin Beauford. It seems they have been roaming the country since last November. They would go into any store that sold ammo and asked how much was on hand and proceed to buy every round. The perceived shortage caused ordinary hunters and plinkers to clean off the shelves in self defense. Looks like the Three Amigos may have been arrested on bootlegging charges because I am now able to find ammo for my 22’s in most of the usual outlets. Either that or they returned to their regular seasonal jobs as your children’s 3rd 4th and 5th grade teachers.
Matt and I wandered through the store past dozens of tables set up for the manufactures of duck calls. Each table had at least two reps blowing on their respective duck calls, looking and sounding like two five year olds trying to best the other in the age old game of “Let’s see who can get Mom to scream first”. Matt asked if I wanted to attend a class. Picture this: Thirty chairs set up in rows, filled with old and middle aged men, each blowing on a duck or goose call, trying to imitate the calls being made by the representative from Get a Goose or Duck Quick or Call It In and Blow It Up, Waterfowl Calls LLC. We watch for a couple of minutes but I started to laugh and bring attention to myself so we moved on.
Matt wanted to know if I wanted to sit in and learn how to call a duck. “Are you nuts” I said, “I already know how to call a duck.” “Watch this…..Heeeeeey Duuuuck!!! “ At that point we were asked to leave the store.
I was again struck with the unfairness of life and the prejudice that surrounds those of us who are past 65 and are rapidly picking up speed on our way to the reading of our wills as we walked down the giant stairs to main checkout area and passed an attractive young female employee who was headed up the stairs. She looked at me first, since I had on a bright yellow shirt and a red hat, but there was no indication she even noticed I was there. Her eyes quickly passed to my son, who is young and handsome. Her eyes widened, she broke into a warm smile and began to immediately drool.
I stood naked in front of the mirror the other day after my shower and said to myself. “Johnston you better die before Barbara because this is not dating material and you wouldn’t survive on your own.” Next time I go to Cabela's I will wear camo, and then I will have a reasonable explanation, in my own mind, for why no one notices. Come to think of it, no one ever did.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

For as young as I feel, how did I get this old?

I just got back from spending three weeks with my 93 year old mother. She seems to be doing well but she sure has a lot of old friends. She asked me to take her to a church senior singles dinner. Of the eighty or so guests, my mother seemed to be in the best shape. Lots of geezers with hearing aids and the main topic of conversation was “Do you want to know what the matter with me is this week?”
One of the women, who appeared to be in charge, is trying to be an Elvira wannabe. Lots of jewelry, fake eye lashes, etc. She was wearing a black wig that was a good 18 inches of piled jet black hair and where Elvira is a 38DD this woman appears to be a deflated 38 long. She’s pushing 80 as easily as she is pushing her walker. I have always thought that the best form of birth control over the age of 40 was nudity but this woman would have taken the topic off the menu all together.
My observation of senior activities is pretty basic. It is all about the food. The event was a success or failure depending upon whether the food was edible. As you know, salads do not make my list of great foods so in my senior opinion the meal was a dud. They did serve root beer floats and I ate mine first and left the rest. The only other man at the table asked if was not going to eat my dinner and I told him I was waiting for something that used to have a face. He was quite hard of hearing so it didn’t really matter what I said. Mom is pretty perceptive and offered to buy me a burger on the way home.
I didn’t spend all my time at mothers. I volunteered to be a race marshal for the Tour of Utah and I worked at four of the seven races that week. The first was a Prolog up City Creek Canyon and back. The next time was at the Miller Motor Park in Tooele where they did a time trial on the banked track. The fifth stage was from Park City, through Camus, Midway, down Provo Canyon, over the Alpine Loop and eventually up Little Cottonwood Canyon to Snowbird. It was 92 miles and they did it in about four hours. My last day was the Criterium in downtown Salt Lake where the group of 140 riders raced around two city blocks at 35mph for 90 minutes. Great fun and my ID got me into the VIP tent each time for a free meal. I took my bike on this trip and tried to ride every day. I discovered a circle route that took about an hour and burned 2200 calories. No matter where I rode it was uphill both ways. I would be glad to do a 50 or a 100 mile ride with of you. You only have to promise that when you are 67 you will do the same ride with someone who is the same age you are now.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better

This wasn't the A train

Barbara has been in Oak Harbor helping out with Linda and Eric’s new baby and looking after Tyler, Jared and Alex. When I called and asked how much longer she would be needed, she said about fifteen years. She said she could talk for a few minutes because they just got back from the beach and she had the boys in the tub. Five seconds later she said she had to go. The exact words were…”the boys just came in from the garage and they each have a hammer, I have to go.”

Since Amy was playing with a band at the Indian casino in Anacortes I decided to take the train, spend the night at Eric’s and then take in the show at the casino before returning the “Fun Grandma” to Olympia. It seemed like a good idea at the time. My experience with trains is limited to a couple of trips back to Illinois as a kid and lots of trips on the SNCF in France. French trains with the exception of the TGVs are not necessarily clean, overbooked but usually on time, except for the frequent strikes where the workers load up a train in some large town, pull out of the station, travel to some small village that has a bar-tabac and then go on strike for seven and one half hours. I always traveled 2nd class which meant sitting on my luggage in the vestibule between cars from Lyon to Marseille or anywhere else for that matter.

The Cascade which travels between Portland and Bellingham is the local equivalent. My misfortune was that it was two hours late leaving Portland and I was thirty minutes early at the Lacey station. It’s obviously a government enterprise because although you can purchase a “reserved” seat ticket online you have to go the station to pick it up. The stations is manned by volunteers who know nothing about the schedules, requirements, or amenities and whose only qualifications are deafness, boorish attitude and proof of ownership of a Lionel train set as a kid. Oh I forgot the incontinent part. Having finally got on the train I found out that “reserved seat” means that you go from car to car until you find a vacant seat that does not have a tag on it. Only once you set your butt on the seat itself does it becomes your “Reserved” seat. All in all it was a nice trip and I saw the industrial section of almost every town we passed. What a thrill. No one threw themselves in front of the train and no one tried to beat the train to the crossing so it was pretty uneventful.

Public rail transportation is becoming popular again. Seattle just opened a train line from downtown to the airport. Originally the line was supposed to end two miles from the airport but Sound Transit reconsidered and the new station at the airport will open soon. Seattle also has a short line that goes from Lake Union to downtown. Originally the city, in typical French fashion, decided to call it the Seattle Lake Union Trolley. So… it has now become known as the SLUT. Next time you visit, let’s go ride the slut.

Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

Words to live by

A good friend of ours, Lloyd V Bliss passed away last weekend and I was asked to speak at his funeral. I asked his family to provide me with a list of their favorite "Lloydisms". Let me share just a few of them with you.

"Whats the worst thing that could happen?"

"Of course we're active. We just don't go to church."

"Did your head fall off?"

"Always pay your employees the most you can afford-not the least they will accept."

"If you are going to be a fool, be a quiet fool."

"If you have the power, you have the responsibility to be generous with the other party."

"I like long walks, especially when they're taken by people who annoy me."

"There are three kinds of people. Those who can count and those who can't."

If he did not want to do something he had the following replys:

"I'd rather have a dead rat in my mouth."
"Give me 24 hours notice so I can make other plans."
"I choose not to participate."

Live with great principles and act on them. No one would have ever remembered the Good Samaritan if he only had good intentions. We should all live such good lives that when we die even the undertaker will be sorry.

Its raining cats and dogs

I was at Amy’s the other day and she tried to give me her cat. Why…? It appears that since there are now two dogs living in the house, the cat is ticked off and shows it by marking its territory in the old fashioned Boy Scout method of peeing on everything. I respectfully declined but wondered what had gone wrong. As a parent, I had held fast to the rule of no pets. No dogs, no cats, no reptiles and certainly thought my children as they grew to adulthood would see the wisdom in the no pet rule and follow suit. No such luck.
Amy has two dogs and a cat. Sarah has 52 cats if you count all the barn cats plus two cows, although one is borrowed. Eric has two dogs technically, since one is currently buried in the back yard. You can tell where, because the weeds grow really tall in that spot. Matt has three dogs including the one that belongs to Uncle Sam. Sounds like a Korean buffet doesn’t it.
It has been my opinion for some time that cats simply allow you to feed them and all dogs should be eaten. This line of thing was reinforced many times during my career as a personal injury claims adjuster for State Farm. Laws vary from state to state but generally if your dog (animal) bites someone or does some property damage, you are responsible and have to pay. In Wa, it doesn’t matter where the dog is at the time. You are responsible. In Oregon, the law says you are responsible if it can be proven that the dog has a propensity to bite, maim or rip asunder. In other words, in Oregon your dog gets one free bite.
I handled a claim by a process server against one of our insured’s who claimed the homeowners dog bit him. The homeowner described the dog as a cuddly, friendly, sweet tempered house dog. To me that meant a large, aggressive, ill tempered pit bull. The process server pretended to be vacuum salesman and when he got on the porch the dog dragged him into the bushes for a friendly discussion about his presence on the property. My guess is the dog didn’t like vacuums. He said he had severe wounds so I asked if we could get some photos. He declined but finally came in two weeks later to show a slight red mark on his calf. I offered to settle the claim for $60.00 to cover the cost of his torn pants and some new clean underwear. He said he would see me in court. The statute of limitations has run on that one so I feel pretty safe. I hope he got the clean underwear. After that experience I am also of the opinion that all process servers should be bitten.
Thanks for listening, I feel much better.

I don't live in this ward, but I'd like to ......

There is one meeting that strikes fear and terror into the heat of every Bishop of every ward in the Church. No its not den meeting, PEC, PPI with the Stake President or even dropping in on the Deacons from time to time. You probably guessed it. The venerable Fast and Testimony Meeting. Every Bishop likes to feel that he has some control of the Sacrament Meeting but once the meeting is turned over to the flock, anything can happen. Today the worshipful attitude was shattered with a brief descripton of the serial killer Ted Bundy, followed by a sister from the Marshall Islands who tried to get her husband and children up on the stand to sing for all of us. She failed. Many prayers were answered right then and there. The Bishop had earlier announced that her husband was going to be baptized tonite but later had to announce that he had been baptized in the Marshall Islands as a kid but forgot. I figured, what the heck, do him again.

Some people who are unwilling or unable financially to seek professional help, use the time to unburden themselves on the rest of us. It becomes a littany of the near dead, the mostly dead, the past dead who have been waiting patiently for the temple work to be done and an assortment of dead pets. Sometimes I really believe I can hear the soft chant of "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry" in the background.

Having been in the uncomforable position myself, I thoroughly enjoy watching our Bishop squirm in his seat. You can almost hear him trying to will, by telepathic means, the speaker into an immediate cardiac arrest.

I have heard "faith promoting" fables about pets being blessed and saved by the priesthood, a priesthood led funeral for a members cat, an admission of an internet addiction to porn, and a pronouncement by a high priest that his wife told him that she was crying because Barbara had just told her that I was having an affair. (What he failed to include was that his wife was mentally ill and that it was just her crazy side talking)

When someone asks after a meeting what I thought about a particular members testimony, I just say "Well bless (his/her) heart. " Translation: "Boy wasn't he full of crap. "

Thank you for listening, I feel much better, bless your heart.

Barbara and I had a chance to fly to Salt Lake City this weekend and I thought you might find this interesting. Mom just turned 93 and she says she plays the piano every day. She is quite hard of hearing and she is no longer able to read and see things upclose but she is still physically active and her mind is a good as it ever was. I have a slightly longer video that I did not post here.

Arrrg

The sub service computer called this morning at 5:40 am with an assignment to cover for the French teacher in Yelm. I looked out the window and the sun was coming up for a change so I respectfully declined the assignment, besides, they are not suppose to call before 6 anyway. Serves them right.

We were both hungry after the symphony rehearsal last night and decided to stop at Carl's Jr. for a snack. I almost ordered in Spanish. I figured if I could not understand the counter guy’s English it would only be fair if he could not understand my Spanish. It appears that Carl’s has set some really low thresholds for obtaining employment. Picture this now. Its 9:59 pm. They close at 10 pm. There is no one in the place but me. It’s a take out order and Pedro hands me a number. A number!!!… I’m the only one in the place. Appears he was worried that he would not be able to get the onion rings to the right customer on facial recognition alone. While I’m waiting I take a look at the menu. Up on a lighted board are photos of what they refer to as the Six Dollar Burgers. There are six of them and the prices are $4.49, $4.59, $4.69, $5.45, $3.85 and $29.64 which is the same burger as the $3.85 but comes with a gastric pump and a “go to the front of the line” card for St Peters Hospital ER. No $6.00 burger. Go figure.

We are flying to Salt Lake this weekend for a short trip. I went into my old place of employment and looked up an old friend who works for Enterprise Rent a Car and got him to arrange for a rental in SL. He asked what kind of car did I want and I told him a Geo Metro would be fine. He listed the choice as "Economy" $16.00/day. Both he and I know that the ERAC office at the SL airport does not have any "economy" cars and they will have to give me what they have on hand for the same price. Oh dang. He also listed in the comments section that I was a State Farm VIP, so I guess I will have to shave and use deodorant. O the sacrifices we make to save a buck.
I'm looking forward to a good frisking at the airport and a spacious seat assignment on the plane
We are flying with a new airline called Larry's Feed, Tire, Funeral Home and Discount Airline LLC. Wish us luck.

Thanks for listening, I feel much better

I am requesting that the management of Fred Myer's put up a readerboard that indicated how many people over the age of 7o are currently in the store so that I can avoid going there during those really fun times.

Oblivious is the word to describe most of these shoppers. Now we're not talking about the crowd that shows up at Costco for the senior lunch (ie hotl-dog and soda $1.50) but those people who through overuse or underuse of the brain matter have learning to behave like no one else in the world actually exists. Try getting around some old fart who wife sent him to the store to buy toilet paper. He parks his cart in the middle of the isle crosswise and then tries to decide which of the 250,000 different varieties he is suppose to buy. I'd like to scream, "just grab one, it doesn't matter which one. None of it is going into your scrapbook" Just for fun, next time I see a crowd at the dairy section I will move in, open my cell phone and say in a loud voice. "Is it all the milk that is being recalled because of e-coli or just the ones with the blue caps?"

Thanks for listening, I feel much better....Frank

welcome

Welcome to the too busy world of Barbara Johnston and her faithful driver, gardner and soul mate Frank.

Just to give you an idea of Barbara's busy schedule it ususally follows this format.
Monday: She takes a fiddle lesson at noon followed by violin lessons all afternoon. Visiting teaching in the a.m. with assorted other humanitarian efforts. I describe her as a Mother Theresa only much hotter.
Tues: Lessons starting at 8 and continuing until about six then its off to O'Blarneys Pub to play with and Irish Fiddle group
Wed: Lessons all day and Olympia Symphony rehearsal from 7 pm to 9:30.
Thurs: Lessons throughout the day and a group lesson of her students in the evening.
Fri: One lesson in the afternoon.
Sat. Off
Sun. Teach Primary class. Got to choir.

Frank's schedule is the same every day:
9-10.00 nothing
10-11:00 break
11-12:00 NADA
12-01:00 lunch
1-2:00 Zip
2-3:00 Zero
3-4:00 break
4-5:00 Zilch
After 5: Planning for next day
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