I thought if they knew the tune I could sing harmony and play the guitar, I knew C, D, E, Em, G and that’s about it.

Next thing I know, we’re on deck for a concert. OK, I’d played the guitar a couple of months, self-taught. The concert was a disaster and we broke up afterwards.

We sang “500 Miles,” “Day is Done” and “Teach Your Children.” I apologize profusely to the authors and singers of the original works, but I was 12.

Now I’ve had six months of lessons and a very nice folk guitar but my fingers are shredded from lack of air and humidity.

I can say I’ll never take private guitar lessons from a drummer again. Most of these teachers look to rich parents in the area to make their kids a great singer or pianist.

And if I’m ever dumb enough 40 years later to get a band together, no-one who is tone-deaf will have a part in it. We were singing to one tune (the drummer professor) and I gravitated to harmony and he went with me. This is on a well-known song. Then he looked at me and said, “I get it, you have perfect pitch.” All I could say is “That’s what my music teachers have told me.”

End of lessons. Sad, I know. When I’m lower than 6.400 feet above sea level and stay out of dishwater without gloves, I may be able to learn again. Right now my right thumb and forefinger are bleeding.

Thanks to my mentors, my dad, PDX and my husband for keeping music in my head and heart. PDX I’m stale, way more than day-old but willing to learn. Cheers, Dee

It’s time for another change and it hurts our hearts to leave where we live and where we will retire.

But as we enter into our tenth year of marriage I actually prefer Peter, Paul and Mary’s version of the aforementioned song as well as this one by John Denver. It starts with “I’ll walk in the rain by your side.”

And the wind will whisper your name to me
Little birds will sing along in time
Leaves will bow down when you walk by
And morning bells will chime

I love my husband, he’s incredibly smart, honest and hard-working. Spending 24/7 with him for a few weeks we talk, discuss, argue then coalesce and make a better environment for change. The change we want is not to be together 24/7 and have money coming in the door rather than out. I want him to be happy with his work, because it means so much to him to be challenged and have a loose leash, so to speak.

Much as I hate to say it, these brief periods are good for us as a couple and family (with dog Zoe). We all get to know each other again. While our state’s unemployment office has denied coverage for all the time Jim was working instead of taking vacations, we’re OK.

This is gonna be a good week. I can feel it already. We even have snow! Cheers! Dee

A half-hour passes and he shows me three sentences. I delete one for him and he sends it off.

He writes a novel and edits it down to nearly the nub of the issue. He is very precise with his content and aside from an occasional spelling error or TMI, he’s right on the mark.

I write. I write as I think and will have this post done in under ten minutes. Why? Because that’s how I work. And I’m not dealing with recruiters or a job.

I love seeing how other people go about writing letters, a blog, a condolence note or even a “welcome to the neighborhood” note. Yes, I still use paper and have several species of note cards available when sending something to a sick neighbor, or someone whose loved one broke up with them by email. How tacky.

For all this I must thank my parents and my aunt, the English teacher. Five hundred words were a hurdle back in high school. I’m at 216 words now and haven’t even broken a sweat.  And you read me! Thank you! Dee

It made no sense to me, real sex (I didn’t have a clue until my little sister told me two years later) or virtual sex through a divine being. It was all mixed up in the crazy RC religion so didn’t really matter as I competed to win scapulas for the five miracles of whatever.

No sex education ever took place, except that fantastical class in which the priest was dumbfounded. The last thing I remember of CCD was my sister refusing the 52-week box of envelopes for personal donations at Mass every week. She refused it twice, then finally told Sister that we go to the parish down the street! I really love her chops on that one!

When I started working for the legislature on insurance issues, thirty years ago, everything we proposed, including offering (not paying for, just offering) well baby care got a three word response from the Industry. Will Increase Premiums. Legislators were frightened of the insurance lobby because they gave money to folks they liked. We did get well baby care passed but do you think anyone got an insurance rebate when companies raked in the profits after the seat belt law was enacted?

State legislators were fearful of the state-by-state insurance lobby (the lobby’s choice) but our President, Barack Obama is more fearful of Rome, the Pope and the Roman Catholic Church. I believe his step-down position should have been his primary position so he wouldn’t look as if he’s caving to Rome in the first place.

Many others have said in better ways that these institutions of higher learning and hospitals receive major federal funding so they should be subject to rules in order to accept that funding. I agree.

Last I heard there was a separation of church and state here in these united states. Of course people want to blur the line otherwise they wouldn’t be seen as working. Fact is, I don’t want to see women be treated worse in healthcare when they work for a Roman Catholic institution.

This has been a week of Prop 8, Susan G Komen and now this debacle. Conservative Utahans don’t want California gays to marry. Susan J Komen caves to conservatives that don’t want poor women to have mammograms to detect breast cancer, and Catholics don’t want insurance companies to allow access to birth control. Is this really 2012 or did I awaken in a different decade?

Here are my solutions: Utah, take your hands of California, let the courts rule; Komen, you did a big boo boo to your donors, fix it and forget about ego; and to the RC church, let it go. Your members can go to the 7/11 and buy a condom. And they do.

All for this post, fellow readers and writers of more than I’m capable of submitting. Cheers, Dee

Many years ago I “reserved” a table at our local beanery, yes, they served beans in the 1930′s for a nickel and people lined up around the block. When we went, it was usually for birthdays and we all had corned beef and cabbage on rye with Gulden’s mustard, and quarts of PBR on the table.

I called to make a reservation for 12 at noon. They told me they don’t take reservations. I said “It’s Dee.” We showed up, the table was set and PBR’s were already there.

Thank you, Will Ferell, I’ve always loved your comedy and this shows it even more. Dee

The other day I realized that with all the upheaval a certain online discount retailer’s layoffs caused us last month I misplaced my husband’s online car registration renewal postcard. It was due January 31. I realized late afternoon on Feb. 2 and checked everywhere for the notice but it was not to be found. I drove over there first thing the next morning and paid and got the sticker and we were OK. I brought passports, old registrations, everything I could find including insurance info. They just wanted a check, the first one I’ve written in years.

Now the company that fired 25% of their IT staff last month they gave us one sheet of paper with what we needed to do. Most of it was incorrect, or outright lies. Like you can’t call to find out what COBRA costs until AFTER your health insurance has ceased to be in force.

After three years of employment they gave us proof of health insurance with an 8-month gap! The person I talked to on the phone said she was only able to vouch for our HSA, not the PPO we had before when that same company was handling the books. That took at least 1/2 day in phone calls and tracking and they got it down to two months gap, then thanks to my perserverence and that of one dedicated employee, to none so we will be mailed proof we’ve paid and received coverage for three years so we may be able to get insurance elsewhere.

No-one cares what a laid off person goes through, especially this company, for which my husband worked for nearly three years and he got two weeks severance and cannot work for competing companies for 18 months. How are we supposed to live? Just doing your paperwork takes at least four hours per day.

I still don’t have a handle on life insurance or COBRA. But every item on the list has been wrong or is designed to fool the laid-off person. I’m nearly there but most people don’t have someone like me on their “payroll.” I also cook dinner, do laundry, walk and feed the dog, and clean the house. The other day I made a big breakthrough on one issue, and to celebrate, I cleaned the toilets!

Perhaps I should have a consulting business for the pre-executive tier that has a team of lawyers and accountants and me, negotiating to make sure life goes on while a six-figure guy or gal is laid off and has to concentrate on getting the next gig. Guys who want to sit at home and re-watch the games need not apply.

My file is three inches deep, just in issues from the past month, all paper. One issue I had to deal with had telephone operators hang up on me over 12 times, send me to a sex line and then to India. That was a tax matter that was created by the people who brought us here for this last job three years ago.

We’ve been through layoffs before, and know how to move anywhere. It’s a complicated game and takes more than one to play it. We’ll do okay and land on our feet and won’t ever buy any more of your sheets. Cheers, Dee

That summer my sister went off to camp and had a great time, then I was slated to go for a week at what we called Why Camp in the Weeds (of course it was Y Camp in the Woods). The weather turned and it was 40 degrees at night in the summer and rained all day and we had forced hikes.

First, I was sent by my leader to sweep the tent. Our 14 year-old Junior Leader was having sex with a boy from the camp across the lake but I thought he was assaulting her so asked for help. She made my life miserable from that day on.

Then one night I was the one in the cheapest sleeping bag possible, and froze every night except this was the worst. Finally I went to sleep and awoke warm and happy to be there. Then I found out there was a critter in my bag. The gals eased down the zipper in case it was a raccoon or possum and it was a kitten!

My savior! And I was his/hers. It must have been feral but it found me so I’ve helped spay/neuter and make sure ferals are taken care of for years, even in other countries. I always wondered when it started, and that was the day.

Until then I only had my girlfriend Sheila in the cot near me, and the promise of two Peppermint Patties for a total of ten cents once a day, and knowing I had an hour to nap or write a postcard to my family 30 minutes away. That kitten saved us both from frostbite and it was not an accident, it was fate and even though I didn’t know why, I was always grateful and give back. Cheers, Dee

Until now this billion dollar foundation has provided over 800,000 mammograms for poor women at Planned Parenthood locations each year.

Since our soon-to-be-kinged Republican candidate has made it clear he doesn’t care about the needs of poor people (or the middle class, when he says $400K a year in speaking fees is pocket change) who is looking out?

I’ve always believed and have counseled non-profits to be mission-based, and have helped them revisit that mission every decade or so. Are you a community theater? Or are you concentrating on selling high-end coffee and sweets during intermission?

Our mission is to … eradicate cancer as a life-threatening disease… So what about donating nearly one million mammograms to Planned Parenthood goes against that mission? Now you say it’s because they’re “under investigation.” They may be, but only in states who hate that they give women choices.

Perhaps I might change the mission statement: “It is our mission to do whatever is politically convenient, waffle to see where the winds will blow in a national election, keep raising money and decide to do what we want with it when things are settled.” Perhaps we will keep breast cancer in our mission. We’re still thinking about that. Right now we’re going to go raise some more money.

There’s a new skate park we’re thinking of funding, and we’ve found a time share place in Florida that could help us raise some money. Bake sale, anyone? Anyone? Here’s to wonderful non-profits who get too big for their … bras, Dee

Yes, that intro from my American Musical Theater prof ended up to be “Someone To Watch Over Me” that has been sung by many greats, but I was introduced to it by Linda Ronstadt and the Nelson Riddle arrangements that are just gorgeous.

Over ten years my husband has been looking after me, as has our dog who herds me all day and sleeps on our bed at night. I like to think I take care of them, too.

It’s funny, after all these decades when my mother read The Feminine Mystique and we actually trapped my anti-feminist uncle in a limo for 90 minutes with Betty Friedan en route to the airport, that I’m now a feminist homemaker.

My mother was always disappointed in me, before I was even born but she’s gone now and I still feel the hurt. But it really bothered her when I married and we moved a few times and I no longer brought in money to my household.

The professor taught us the songs but tested us on these strange intros, and you wouldn’t believe some of the unpublished lyrics of Cole Porter! Even if I don’t have one on iTunes, I listen to these songs in my head every day. Of late, they’ve been making a racket.

My husband is dealing with the grain bin and I’m stuck at the other end of the cow, picking up. I hear (rip) Etta James, Linda Ronstadt, Joan Baez, PPM and CSNY and others as I pick up and they carry me on. Now my fingers are shredded because of the lack of oxygen and humidity up here so all I do is hydrate my guitar.

What I’m learning is that music can take you through. Judy Collins is sold out but The Kingston Trio, and Jackson Cash will be here soon. It’s  a small venue and it’ll be great to see the Sundance folks re-absorbed into LaLa land and NYC and out of here. Only 8,000 people live here yet every taxi service and limo service has been in town for days.

One guy rummaged to the back of the Whole Foods coffee aisle. He wouldn’t move his arse or his cart for a long time. We call him a SPIB (Slave to People In Black). But his butt was just more important than letting us get by. I wanted to stand there, seeing how long it would take. I’m sure my husband the physicist and software engineer, twice his size, wanted to take him out just because he was driving me nuts but he’s a pacifist.

Then it was over and clueless SPIB never even excused himself for being in our way. That’s the privileged part of the mountains. People know they’re more important than everybody else and lord it over everyone for a few days then leave us alone. Lordy, Lordy, I’ve truly become a local!

And whether it was my Dad, or my husband, I’ve always had someone to watch over me and for that I’m eternally grateful. With love and generosity, Dee

Now it’s back to the grind and hopefully things will solidify this week and we’ll know what we’re doing. Fingers crossed, Dee