Time sure flies when you're having fun.
As a senior in high school during the 70's, I remember a time when several of my classmates were having a discussion. It was close to graduation, in 1974 and we were talking about how old we would be in the year 2000.
Back when we were in kindergarten, the age requirement for starting school was turning 5 years old in that particular year, not just before September. Some of my classmates were nearly a year older than others since we had birthdays that scanned the calendar from mid January to the wee hours of December.
But one thing was certain, we would all be in our mid forties by the time 2000 rolled around.
Seventeen and eighteen years old individuals have absolutely no concept of the passing of time. After all, we were standing on the threshold to freedom, what more could we have asked for. The year of 2000 seemed like eons away. We laughed and made jokes about white hair, canes and walkers, hey, forty something was ancient.
Yes, it seems we spend the first 25 or so years hitting the fast forward button and the rest hitting rewind.
Now we stand on a new threshold. The teetering edge of a new year. The year 2000 will soon be 14 years behind us and high school forty years past.
The time of new resolutions is upon us, and I'm sure there will be many made. Some will last throughout the year and others will wane like the moon.
One of mine is to get more exercise, and I started yesterday. It's a simple plan, well maybe simple if you happen to be an expert at triathlons, and only consists of four body sculpting moves. The most appealing feature of this workout is that it only takes 10 minutes to perform. That's my kind of plan, surely I can find ten short minutes everyday to better myself.
I barely made it through the first 2 1/2 minutes and 30 seconds of that was resting. I felt like I was going to have "the big one" but must admit, I did feel better for the rest of the day. Surprisingly, I was able to get out of bed this morning, so I shall give it another shot today.
I have a pull-up bar that hangs in the doorway between the kitchen and front room. At one time I could do 10. Since it is over the top of my head, I have chosen to simply walk beneath it for the past year. I will work on that again too, right now I can do almost a half of one. I suppose I could do them like my youngest granddaughter does. She is 3, hangs on the bar and pulls her knees up. She can do fourteen of these pseudo pull-ups before her hands give out. Just hanging on the bar is a feat unto itself.
That's it for the exercise, I'm worn out just writing about it.
I shall eat better. So easy to say when you have come down off of 30 days of cramming things into your system that you wouldn't touch any other time of the year. That's another fun thing about getting older, you can undo eleven months of healthy living and weight loss in less than a month. Could be a new title, "Gain 20 Pounds in 10 Days!.....Guaranteed!"
I'm not going to get caught up in world affairs, unless I can do it satirically. It's not that I don't care, I do, but getting bound up in huge amounts of negativity is not good for the soul. I think I shall spend more time handing these things over to my Creator. If more of us did that, we might see some better results.
Last but not least.....stress less, have more faith and write more. It is hard not to get stressed in this day and age whatever the reason, be it money, health or just life in general. The one thing that I have discovered, as I reflect on this past year is this: Every time I thought things were going to come crashing down around me like tiny shards of glass, they didn't. When I thought it would never get better, it did. And when there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel, there was and it was bigger and brighter than before.
I'm still hitting re-wind and slamming on the brakes. I want to skid around the corners and if I fall off the edge, I hope I can get back up and try again. If you don't stick with your new resolution, set a new goal and keep on trying, remember, we all fall short from time to time.
Happy New year, see you in 2014.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Monday, December 30, 2013
No Baking Competition For Me
The bananas on the counter were ripe. Actually, they were past ripe. My husband gingerly picked them up by their equally ripe stems and headed for the trash.
"Don't throw them away." I said.
He immediately gave me the "look".
"I'm going to make banana bread with them."
His demeanor changed instantly, he smiled and gingerly placed them back on the counter. Ah yes, a way to a mans' heart..... Now I had put myself in the position of actually having to do something with them.
I don't bake much. How do I know this? Well, it's like this, when I finally found the loaf baking pans, buried deep in the cabinet that houses such bakeryish items, they had cobwebs in them. Seriously, I can't make all this stuff up.
Betty Crocker I'm not, but I do have Mother's old B.C. cookbook and I drug it out to look up a good banana bread recipe. This cookbook is old and although I'm sure the recipe it revealed was probably a good one, I resorted to Google to find another. I found one that called for two sticks of butter. Since my husband considers butter at the top of the food pyramid, I chose that recipe.
I had just finished cleaning the kitchen, so I don't know what I was thinking. Anyone who has seen me cook, knows that my kitchen looks as though an F5 tornado has gone through it when I'm done.
Of course, the first rule of thumb, when cooking, is to make sure you have all the ingredients. I scanned the recipe, nope, no flour, not enough sugar, and no baking soda or baking powder. The last canister of baking powder I had was nearly 30 years old. I'm not kidding.
My husband and I tried our hand at running a restaurant, our oldest daughter was 2 at the time. She is now 31. When you buy things for a restaurant, you usually buy things in bulk, hence the large and lasting can of baking powder. Yes, I suppose deep down I do like to cook, but if I'm not cooking for an army, it's not much fun. Anyway, the baking powder was gone. I imagine if my kids saw it and it had any thing remotely close to an expiration date stamped on its surface, they probably threw it out. Mother's been gone six years this past September, and they finally made me throw her peanut butter away, this past fall.
I go to the store to get nearly all the ingredients except the bananas. The cost of baking powder has obviously gone up, but if it lasts for another 30 years it should prove to be most cost effective. I ponder purchasing some pecans, even though the recipe called for walnuts, but the price of them seemed a little high for so few a pecan, and I decided against it. Besides, I had a large container of cashews at home.
Finally, I'm ready to start. The dry ingredients, minus the sugar, have to be sifted together, so there's one bowl. The eggs have to be beaten, there's another bowl. The bananas needed to be mashed. That wasn't going to be a problem. I could have probably just cut the ends off and squished them out of their skin like a tube of toothpaste, but no, I got out yet another bowl and hand mashed them to perfection. I figured I'd toast the cashews, so out came a nice clean skillet, then I dug out the small food processor, that has recently become my friend, and chopped up the nuts.
Since the fresh out of the frig butter is hard as a brick, I nuke it. I may not bake much, but I have astounding skills when it comes to the microwave. I once nuked a whole turkey, because my oven quit working that morning, and it didn't bounce like a rubber ball when it was done. I use my microwave oven finesseiness to make the butter un-brick like, but not soft, and did I mention, in ANOTHER bowl.
The recipe says to blend the butter and the sugar. I pour the sugar on top of the butter and march over to the cabinet to get my electric hand mixer, only to discover it isn't there. No, it's up the street at my daughter's house. I've already been out of the house to get the ingredients, put the car in the garage, the outside temperature is still falling and I'm not going back out the door.
Since the food processor is already out, with only a dusting of cashews in it, I dump the butter and sugar in there and press pulverize until the last chunk of butter quit spinning around on the inside of the lid.
Finally all the wet stuff got to be put in with the dry stuff and I grabbed the wire whisk to mix it up, because there was no way it was all going to fit in the food processor. Then I decided the wire whisk that has the little steel balls on the ends, instead of the curved wire like the first whisk I retrieved, will work better.
Eight bowls, one skillet, one food processor and 14 utensils later, the batter was in the generously greased pans and in the oven.
Although the bottom of each loaf stuck just a little bit, I scraped said stuck pieces out of the pans and placed them in their correct holes, much like a jigsaw puzzle, flipped them over, let them set a bit and served a couple of slices to my husband.
The cashews turned out to be a great alternative to the walnuts, my husband was in banana bread heaven and the dishwasher was whirring away. And the best part? The recipe didn't even call for baking powder.
"Don't throw them away." I said.
He immediately gave me the "look".
"I'm going to make banana bread with them."
His demeanor changed instantly, he smiled and gingerly placed them back on the counter. Ah yes, a way to a mans' heart..... Now I had put myself in the position of actually having to do something with them.
I don't bake much. How do I know this? Well, it's like this, when I finally found the loaf baking pans, buried deep in the cabinet that houses such bakeryish items, they had cobwebs in them. Seriously, I can't make all this stuff up.
Betty Crocker I'm not, but I do have Mother's old B.C. cookbook and I drug it out to look up a good banana bread recipe. This cookbook is old and although I'm sure the recipe it revealed was probably a good one, I resorted to Google to find another. I found one that called for two sticks of butter. Since my husband considers butter at the top of the food pyramid, I chose that recipe.
I had just finished cleaning the kitchen, so I don't know what I was thinking. Anyone who has seen me cook, knows that my kitchen looks as though an F5 tornado has gone through it when I'm done.
Of course, the first rule of thumb, when cooking, is to make sure you have all the ingredients. I scanned the recipe, nope, no flour, not enough sugar, and no baking soda or baking powder. The last canister of baking powder I had was nearly 30 years old. I'm not kidding.
My husband and I tried our hand at running a restaurant, our oldest daughter was 2 at the time. She is now 31. When you buy things for a restaurant, you usually buy things in bulk, hence the large and lasting can of baking powder. Yes, I suppose deep down I do like to cook, but if I'm not cooking for an army, it's not much fun. Anyway, the baking powder was gone. I imagine if my kids saw it and it had any thing remotely close to an expiration date stamped on its surface, they probably threw it out. Mother's been gone six years this past September, and they finally made me throw her peanut butter away, this past fall.
I go to the store to get nearly all the ingredients except the bananas. The cost of baking powder has obviously gone up, but if it lasts for another 30 years it should prove to be most cost effective. I ponder purchasing some pecans, even though the recipe called for walnuts, but the price of them seemed a little high for so few a pecan, and I decided against it. Besides, I had a large container of cashews at home.
Finally, I'm ready to start. The dry ingredients, minus the sugar, have to be sifted together, so there's one bowl. The eggs have to be beaten, there's another bowl. The bananas needed to be mashed. That wasn't going to be a problem. I could have probably just cut the ends off and squished them out of their skin like a tube of toothpaste, but no, I got out yet another bowl and hand mashed them to perfection. I figured I'd toast the cashews, so out came a nice clean skillet, then I dug out the small food processor, that has recently become my friend, and chopped up the nuts.
Since the fresh out of the frig butter is hard as a brick, I nuke it. I may not bake much, but I have astounding skills when it comes to the microwave. I once nuked a whole turkey, because my oven quit working that morning, and it didn't bounce like a rubber ball when it was done. I use my microwave oven finesseiness to make the butter un-brick like, but not soft, and did I mention, in ANOTHER bowl.
The recipe says to blend the butter and the sugar. I pour the sugar on top of the butter and march over to the cabinet to get my electric hand mixer, only to discover it isn't there. No, it's up the street at my daughter's house. I've already been out of the house to get the ingredients, put the car in the garage, the outside temperature is still falling and I'm not going back out the door.
Since the food processor is already out, with only a dusting of cashews in it, I dump the butter and sugar in there and press pulverize until the last chunk of butter quit spinning around on the inside of the lid.
Finally all the wet stuff got to be put in with the dry stuff and I grabbed the wire whisk to mix it up, because there was no way it was all going to fit in the food processor. Then I decided the wire whisk that has the little steel balls on the ends, instead of the curved wire like the first whisk I retrieved, will work better.
Eight bowls, one skillet, one food processor and 14 utensils later, the batter was in the generously greased pans and in the oven.
Although the bottom of each loaf stuck just a little bit, I scraped said stuck pieces out of the pans and placed them in their correct holes, much like a jigsaw puzzle, flipped them over, let them set a bit and served a couple of slices to my husband.
The cashews turned out to be a great alternative to the walnuts, my husband was in banana bread heaven and the dishwasher was whirring away. And the best part? The recipe didn't even call for baking powder.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Leaving The House
I've spent over five hours trying to blog. Three hours yesterday and two today.
I was trying to pull together a topic that I thought worthy of my consideration. I had the title, and the subject matter. I yearned to put into the story over forty years of my knowledgeable philosophyiness only to find it getting stretched into a long lengthy blob, like silly putty, instead of a blog.
It was to be about ethics, etiquette and Facebook.
Ethics is knowing the difference between right and wrong. My youngest daughter has gone back to school. She had to take a class on ethics. Ethics are even having to be taught in the work place. How sad is that?
Etiquette is knowing how to be seen or act, usually in public.
Since most people know what Facebook is, why bother to explain it's a huge social media website that allows people to prove why ethics have to be taught in a class room setting and etiquette has flown right out the window.
There, five hours reduced to three paragraphs. One more thing about Facebook though. If someone dies, or is in a bad accident, FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD, don't post it. Would you really want to find out that kind of information, via Facebook, if it was a member of your family?
Oh, just one more thing about Facebook, then I'm done. If you don't like what someone is posting, un-friend them. Sure, it will make them mad and they will probably continue to post unsavory comments. They might even post some nasties about you, but guess what? You won't see them! Unless, of course, one of your other friends happen to share the nasties to your page. When that happens, un-friend them too, because real friends don't do that and that has something to do with ethics and etiquette........
While I was struggling to blog yesterday, my oldest daughter sent me a text. She had some gift cards that were beginning to smolder and did I want to ride along.
Yesindeedidoo, I did. It was a chance to get out. Not just out of the house, but out of town. Not just out of town, but out of the county! I could give a diddly squat about shopping, but a road trip was just what I needed. We talked for 60 miles and it was wonderful therapy.
The first stop was for lunch. Do you know how incredibly hard it is to get the inside of a bread bowl scooped out with a plastic spoon? As I sat and watched people dispose of their lunch remains, I figured that was where most of the metal spoons had gone, so the plastic ones were probably much cheaper to replace. I did have a real knife though, but I'm not sure why. My sandwich was already just half of a sandwich, so there was no need to cut it. I could have used it to eat my soup. That would have given the soup more time to soak into the insides of the bread bowl, making it easier to retrieve. I think a spork would have come in handy and if I had seen a suggestion box, I could have written that splendid idea on a napkin.
Then we were off to exchange a couple of wrong sized shirts. I wandered around in the area of the store that held the displays of yard art and longed for warmer weather. I thought about how different my daughter and I are. I would have never exchanged a shirt. I don't know why, other than it would require me to actually do some shopping. I always felt like a gift was a gift and was to be accepted as such. That is probably the main reason no one ever gives me clothes as a gift anymore. If it was the wrong size or color, I simply put it in the closet, never to be seen again. The giver of the gift probably noticed that.
Next stop was the mall. I hadn't been in there for years. We quickly found the winter coat department and I served the purpose of holding her purse and coat while she tried on different styles.
Being satisfied with a particular coat we were fortunate to be in close proximity to a not so busy check out. It happened to be located in the neighboring lingerie department. As she stood in line, I began to scan the ocean of bras, panties and promise not to roll body slimmers, those of which I would beg to differ. My gaze fell upon a perfectly proportioned headless mannequin sporting a thong. In my day, thongs were something you wore on your feet, now they are referred to as 'flip flops'. There is no better way to draw attention to yourself or to clear a room than to announce in a loud voice, "Hey! How do you like my new thongs!" I looked at the scanty garment on the mannequin and decided since my own undergarments already fit like that, I didn't need to purchase one. It seems to me that the most comfortable way to wear a pair of those would be on the outside of ones' jeans, but I suppose that would be another good way to draw attention, or, clear the room.
Our last stop was to exchange another gift. As soon as we walked through the doors, there on a big red sign was the arrow pointing to the return/exchange department. It wound us through the store and was almost like following the yellow brick road. As we turned the last corner, we discovered why it was located in the back of the store. The line must have been four miles long, if it had been located in the front, people would have been standing out on the interstate. Some of my do not like to shop genes obviously got passed on because she took one look at the line and made a quick decision to leave. Out we went, un-returned gift in hand and were lucky enough not to set off any alarms or draw the attention of the security people.
The ride home was just as enjoyable. The only time we stopped talking was to draw a breath. The sun setting in the west put on a dazzling show of deep purple, yellow and orange hues that rivaled a Hawaiian sunset.
What a fun day, I really should get out more often.
I was trying to pull together a topic that I thought worthy of my consideration. I had the title, and the subject matter. I yearned to put into the story over forty years of my knowledgeable philosophyiness only to find it getting stretched into a long lengthy blob, like silly putty, instead of a blog.
It was to be about ethics, etiquette and Facebook.
Ethics is knowing the difference between right and wrong. My youngest daughter has gone back to school. She had to take a class on ethics. Ethics are even having to be taught in the work place. How sad is that?
Etiquette is knowing how to be seen or act, usually in public.
Since most people know what Facebook is, why bother to explain it's a huge social media website that allows people to prove why ethics have to be taught in a class room setting and etiquette has flown right out the window.
There, five hours reduced to three paragraphs. One more thing about Facebook though. If someone dies, or is in a bad accident, FOR CRYIN' OUT LOUD, don't post it. Would you really want to find out that kind of information, via Facebook, if it was a member of your family?
Oh, just one more thing about Facebook, then I'm done. If you don't like what someone is posting, un-friend them. Sure, it will make them mad and they will probably continue to post unsavory comments. They might even post some nasties about you, but guess what? You won't see them! Unless, of course, one of your other friends happen to share the nasties to your page. When that happens, un-friend them too, because real friends don't do that and that has something to do with ethics and etiquette........
While I was struggling to blog yesterday, my oldest daughter sent me a text. She had some gift cards that were beginning to smolder and did I want to ride along.
Yesindeedidoo, I did. It was a chance to get out. Not just out of the house, but out of town. Not just out of town, but out of the county! I could give a diddly squat about shopping, but a road trip was just what I needed. We talked for 60 miles and it was wonderful therapy.
The first stop was for lunch. Do you know how incredibly hard it is to get the inside of a bread bowl scooped out with a plastic spoon? As I sat and watched people dispose of their lunch remains, I figured that was where most of the metal spoons had gone, so the plastic ones were probably much cheaper to replace. I did have a real knife though, but I'm not sure why. My sandwich was already just half of a sandwich, so there was no need to cut it. I could have used it to eat my soup. That would have given the soup more time to soak into the insides of the bread bowl, making it easier to retrieve. I think a spork would have come in handy and if I had seen a suggestion box, I could have written that splendid idea on a napkin.
Then we were off to exchange a couple of wrong sized shirts. I wandered around in the area of the store that held the displays of yard art and longed for warmer weather. I thought about how different my daughter and I are. I would have never exchanged a shirt. I don't know why, other than it would require me to actually do some shopping. I always felt like a gift was a gift and was to be accepted as such. That is probably the main reason no one ever gives me clothes as a gift anymore. If it was the wrong size or color, I simply put it in the closet, never to be seen again. The giver of the gift probably noticed that.
Next stop was the mall. I hadn't been in there for years. We quickly found the winter coat department and I served the purpose of holding her purse and coat while she tried on different styles.
Being satisfied with a particular coat we were fortunate to be in close proximity to a not so busy check out. It happened to be located in the neighboring lingerie department. As she stood in line, I began to scan the ocean of bras, panties and promise not to roll body slimmers, those of which I would beg to differ. My gaze fell upon a perfectly proportioned headless mannequin sporting a thong. In my day, thongs were something you wore on your feet, now they are referred to as 'flip flops'. There is no better way to draw attention to yourself or to clear a room than to announce in a loud voice, "Hey! How do you like my new thongs!" I looked at the scanty garment on the mannequin and decided since my own undergarments already fit like that, I didn't need to purchase one. It seems to me that the most comfortable way to wear a pair of those would be on the outside of ones' jeans, but I suppose that would be another good way to draw attention, or, clear the room.
Our last stop was to exchange another gift. As soon as we walked through the doors, there on a big red sign was the arrow pointing to the return/exchange department. It wound us through the store and was almost like following the yellow brick road. As we turned the last corner, we discovered why it was located in the back of the store. The line must have been four miles long, if it had been located in the front, people would have been standing out on the interstate. Some of my do not like to shop genes obviously got passed on because she took one look at the line and made a quick decision to leave. Out we went, un-returned gift in hand and were lucky enough not to set off any alarms or draw the attention of the security people.
The ride home was just as enjoyable. The only time we stopped talking was to draw a breath. The sun setting in the west put on a dazzling show of deep purple, yellow and orange hues that rivaled a Hawaiian sunset.
What a fun day, I really should get out more often.
Friday, December 27, 2013
And The Battle Rages
I'm living on a battlefield, a war zone, if you will. It's not the type we see on the news, reports we watch in far away lands. Nor is it as deadly. But alas, it's not pretty.
The war that rages at the end of my street has no bombs or mortar fire. In fact, few people even know it exists. There are no real casualties and I suppose the only collateral damage is me.
The battle I speak of is Hubby vs. Paper Boy. I truly believe it may have a future as a new game for X-Box.
We have taken this daily newspaper for over 20 years. We have seen many a delivery person (aka paper boy) throughout the years. We even delivered it ourselves at one time.
I thought that would be a great learning experience for our daughters. It would teach them, at an early age, what responsibility is all about. It would show them the value of having a job, and give them a strong work ethic of a job well done. I do not recall how long we delivered this particular paper, but it was long enough to go through seasons of snow, ice and warm weather.
During the warm weather and especially on the weekends, we would load their bicycle baskets with 75 newspapers and send them on their way. They were about 8 and 5 years old at the time, they rode all over our small town, even a bit outside of the city limits. They dodged traffic and were chased by dogs and I'm sure the entire experience forged in them the tenacity to never put their own children through such calamities. Sigh....it really seemed like a good idea at the time.
It is not the most glamorous of occupations, or one that will make a person wealthy. Unless, perhaps, you live in a tent and have no monthly expenses, except for food. But, none the less, it was their first exposure to the real world and we were determined to do it right. The one thing we did succeed at was going through two sets of brakes on the car. Plus, if my memory serves me correctly, we wore the doors out too.
There were two main reasons for my husband choosing this particular paper. One, it covers local sports better than its competitor in our area and two, it's delivered in the morning.
The early morning delivery time is 6 a.m. That means it is supposed to be on the porch, in the paper box or where ever you expect it to be, by 6 a.m. On Sundays it's 7 a.m.
My husband is a creature of habit. He has a morning ritual that you can set your clock by. When we owned our business, all the people that lived on the street he took each morning to open the shop, knew exactly what time it was when they heard the rumble of loud pipes.
He rarely deviates from his schedule. The only time I can remember him getting out of sync was shortly after he got his first pair of contact lenses. He was a mess, even frantic, because he couldn't see. I suggested that perhaps he had placed the lenses in the wrong eye. He didn't think that was a possibility, but after some gentle coaxing, he switched them.....then he could see just fine....it was a miracle.
Since he is still working, his morning routine is pretty much the same. He rises early, spends exactly 25 minutes in the bathroom doing whatever it is that guys do in there, fixes his coffee, retrieves his work vehicle, reads the paper, has some breakfast and leaves the house by 6:50. Again, you can set your clock by this.
The part about reading the paper is where the slow simmering of war has risen its ugly head. The paper has been late. First it was just a little late, but all is not fair in love and war, and a new strategy has been put into play.
He called the circulation department and complained. He called them again, and complained. Since the paper boy was kind enough to give us his phone number, he called him and complained. THAT was a most lovely conversation to hear first thing in the morning.
Mother's old adage of "the squeaky wheel gets the grease" has not worked out so well for my husband. In fact, it has done just the opposite, the paper is rarely here before 7:30. Yes, he could read it in the evening, but that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a morning paper and besides, it's all old news by then.
I've been thinking about starting to exercise more, it would be good for me. I'm thinking that at the first of the year, we will drop our monthly subscription to this newspaper. I will rise early, jog to the local convenience store, buy the paper out of the machine (it seems to get there on time) and jog home. This will not only help me to achieve buns of steel, but will bring a small slice of world peace to the southern end of South Corey Street.
The war that rages at the end of my street has no bombs or mortar fire. In fact, few people even know it exists. There are no real casualties and I suppose the only collateral damage is me.
The battle I speak of is Hubby vs. Paper Boy. I truly believe it may have a future as a new game for X-Box.
We have taken this daily newspaper for over 20 years. We have seen many a delivery person (aka paper boy) throughout the years. We even delivered it ourselves at one time.
I thought that would be a great learning experience for our daughters. It would teach them, at an early age, what responsibility is all about. It would show them the value of having a job, and give them a strong work ethic of a job well done. I do not recall how long we delivered this particular paper, but it was long enough to go through seasons of snow, ice and warm weather.
During the warm weather and especially on the weekends, we would load their bicycle baskets with 75 newspapers and send them on their way. They were about 8 and 5 years old at the time, they rode all over our small town, even a bit outside of the city limits. They dodged traffic and were chased by dogs and I'm sure the entire experience forged in them the tenacity to never put their own children through such calamities. Sigh....it really seemed like a good idea at the time.
It is not the most glamorous of occupations, or one that will make a person wealthy. Unless, perhaps, you live in a tent and have no monthly expenses, except for food. But, none the less, it was their first exposure to the real world and we were determined to do it right. The one thing we did succeed at was going through two sets of brakes on the car. Plus, if my memory serves me correctly, we wore the doors out too.
There were two main reasons for my husband choosing this particular paper. One, it covers local sports better than its competitor in our area and two, it's delivered in the morning.
The early morning delivery time is 6 a.m. That means it is supposed to be on the porch, in the paper box or where ever you expect it to be, by 6 a.m. On Sundays it's 7 a.m.
My husband is a creature of habit. He has a morning ritual that you can set your clock by. When we owned our business, all the people that lived on the street he took each morning to open the shop, knew exactly what time it was when they heard the rumble of loud pipes.
He rarely deviates from his schedule. The only time I can remember him getting out of sync was shortly after he got his first pair of contact lenses. He was a mess, even frantic, because he couldn't see. I suggested that perhaps he had placed the lenses in the wrong eye. He didn't think that was a possibility, but after some gentle coaxing, he switched them.....then he could see just fine....it was a miracle.
Since he is still working, his morning routine is pretty much the same. He rises early, spends exactly 25 minutes in the bathroom doing whatever it is that guys do in there, fixes his coffee, retrieves his work vehicle, reads the paper, has some breakfast and leaves the house by 6:50. Again, you can set your clock by this.
The part about reading the paper is where the slow simmering of war has risen its ugly head. The paper has been late. First it was just a little late, but all is not fair in love and war, and a new strategy has been put into play.
He called the circulation department and complained. He called them again, and complained. Since the paper boy was kind enough to give us his phone number, he called him and complained. THAT was a most lovely conversation to hear first thing in the morning.
Mother's old adage of "the squeaky wheel gets the grease" has not worked out so well for my husband. In fact, it has done just the opposite, the paper is rarely here before 7:30. Yes, he could read it in the evening, but that kind of defeats the whole purpose of having a morning paper and besides, it's all old news by then.
I've been thinking about starting to exercise more, it would be good for me. I'm thinking that at the first of the year, we will drop our monthly subscription to this newspaper. I will rise early, jog to the local convenience store, buy the paper out of the machine (it seems to get there on time) and jog home. This will not only help me to achieve buns of steel, but will bring a small slice of world peace to the southern end of South Corey Street.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
The Morning After
I have not sat here for days it seems, sharing my random thoughts about life in general. I've missed it too, almost to the point of feeling guilty.
The house is so incredibly quiet, like it was before, and my head is completely blank. It feels fabulous. Like I have been purged of all craziness and dead lines that had to be met.
It feels like Monday, but it isn't, it's Thursday, the day after Christmas. I was even disappointed that one of my favorite Sunday evening TV shows wasn't on last night, then I remembered...it was only Wednesday.
My desk is completely bare. I can see the entire top of it and had forgotten exactly what it looked like. The reason it is clean is because I put everything that was on it into a cardboard box and slid it under the desk. I'm sure no one cared, but it did give the illusion that I had cleaned, that I was neat, tidy and proficient.
Right now, I have absolutely nothing to do. Well, I do, but nothing that absolutely has to be done right this very minute. The oven timer is not going off, or the timer on the microwave, to remind me that something is in there, something that needs to come out, before it looks like a piece of charcoal, or nuked to "brick-bat" stage.
I should really do some laundry since all my blue jeans are in the dirty clothes. I have been forced to get out the sweat pants. I don't like to wear sweat pants but since I thought I needed to consume enough chocolate to make Willy Wonka want to add on to the factory, they may be the only pants that will fit.
I haven't shed any tears because I waited until the last minute to do my online shopping, only to find out that my packages wouldn't arrive in time. But, they did.
They arrived Christmas Eve afternoon, right before the throng of people were to arrive for my husband's side of the family gathering. At the time, I was headed to the closest Wal-Mart for some last minute save-the-day items. I gave some serious thought to the idea of just driving in one direction until I ran out of fuel, never to return, but decided that might put an unhappy damper on the festivities.
We don't have to do much on Christmas morning. Our daughters live just up the street from us and they have their own gift opening session before they come here. The oldest daughters' children decided that 3:30 a.m. was a good time to start this year. The youngest daughters' husband, the biggest kid of the bunch, thought it wise to wake his brood up before 7. By the time they all got to our house, the word 'testy' was coming into play. They had to wait on me though, before they could come. Since I was too tired to wrap gifts after everyone left the night before, I had to do it Christmas morning. It was the classic roll, fold, wad and tape. I never have enough tape and considered getting the hot glue gun out or the staple gun, but I had borrowed a roll and finally remembered where I put it. No one seemed to notice that their gifts had padding on the ends.
Our kids surprised us with a new TV this year. One of the new flat screen models. I don't remember how long we have had the old one, but it has given us many years of service. It too, was a big screen model but not the slim sleek kind. No, this one must weigh at least a hundred pounds and is nearly four feet tall.
When we remodeled several years ago, we turned the dining room and living room into one big room. The TV sat on one end of the room and we on the other. I'm not sure if it was the TV or us, but a few months ago my husband decided he could not see what was on the screen as clearly as he had been able to. I moved his chair closer to the screen and left mine where it was. After a week or two of this viewing set up, I felt like I was sitting in the back of the theater by myself and moved my chair next to his. So here we were, in this great big room, with our chairs sitting in the middle of the room about six feet in front of the TV. The first time our kids saw this arrangement must have been what prompted their idea for the gift.
The old TV was housed in what used to be a built in china cabinet and set about three feet up off the floor. Our sons-in law hossed it out of the hole, while I hid in the kitchen with my fingers crossed, praying they didn't drop it or knock over the numerous decorations that sat close by. Then they hooked up the new one, programmed the remote and fired it up. The picture was amazing and I nearly had to put my sunglasses on to view it. Now I can put the chairs back where they belong because if I don't, I fear we may glow in the dark.
Everyone left by a little after one, and I curled up in my chair to relax. I was thinking about how stressed I had let myself get this year. How I had procrastinated, thinking I had all the time in the world to get things done, only to discover that my time was running short. I thought about all the things I had wanted to accomplish, but didn't and vowed to do better next year. Next year, I would start in August.
It was about this time, during my inner contemplation, that my phone rang. It was my oldest daughter's husband. She has taken on the responsibility of her husband's side of the family celebration at their house. It seemed that their oldest son had eaten one of the main ingredients to a recipe she was getting ready to prepare and did I have said ingredient.
I had to laugh because anyone who knows this boy, knows that a tomato within a two block radius is not safe. He had eaten an entire box of cherry tomatoes. I knew his mother was probably not a happy camper at this particular moment because of the above mentioned word, testy. I also knew he was in deep do-do, but I'm sure he had put on a face of great innocence. After all, if there wasn't a padlock on the tomatoes, they were surely fair game.
I just happened to have a box of cherry tomatoes. They were for a salad that I had wanted to prepare for our Christmas Eve gathering, but I had run out of time. I had even strategically placed these tomatoes behind a zucchini and a cucumber in the crisper drawer because I knew if this boy saw them, they were history. My procrastination saved his hide.
Things really do happen for a reason. Christmas is over and what's done, is done. What didn't get done really doesn't matter.
The house is so incredibly quiet, like it was before, and my head is completely blank. It feels fabulous. Like I have been purged of all craziness and dead lines that had to be met.
It feels like Monday, but it isn't, it's Thursday, the day after Christmas. I was even disappointed that one of my favorite Sunday evening TV shows wasn't on last night, then I remembered...it was only Wednesday.
My desk is completely bare. I can see the entire top of it and had forgotten exactly what it looked like. The reason it is clean is because I put everything that was on it into a cardboard box and slid it under the desk. I'm sure no one cared, but it did give the illusion that I had cleaned, that I was neat, tidy and proficient.
Right now, I have absolutely nothing to do. Well, I do, but nothing that absolutely has to be done right this very minute. The oven timer is not going off, or the timer on the microwave, to remind me that something is in there, something that needs to come out, before it looks like a piece of charcoal, or nuked to "brick-bat" stage.
I should really do some laundry since all my blue jeans are in the dirty clothes. I have been forced to get out the sweat pants. I don't like to wear sweat pants but since I thought I needed to consume enough chocolate to make Willy Wonka want to add on to the factory, they may be the only pants that will fit.
I haven't shed any tears because I waited until the last minute to do my online shopping, only to find out that my packages wouldn't arrive in time. But, they did.
They arrived Christmas Eve afternoon, right before the throng of people were to arrive for my husband's side of the family gathering. At the time, I was headed to the closest Wal-Mart for some last minute save-the-day items. I gave some serious thought to the idea of just driving in one direction until I ran out of fuel, never to return, but decided that might put an unhappy damper on the festivities.
We don't have to do much on Christmas morning. Our daughters live just up the street from us and they have their own gift opening session before they come here. The oldest daughters' children decided that 3:30 a.m. was a good time to start this year. The youngest daughters' husband, the biggest kid of the bunch, thought it wise to wake his brood up before 7. By the time they all got to our house, the word 'testy' was coming into play. They had to wait on me though, before they could come. Since I was too tired to wrap gifts after everyone left the night before, I had to do it Christmas morning. It was the classic roll, fold, wad and tape. I never have enough tape and considered getting the hot glue gun out or the staple gun, but I had borrowed a roll and finally remembered where I put it. No one seemed to notice that their gifts had padding on the ends.
Our kids surprised us with a new TV this year. One of the new flat screen models. I don't remember how long we have had the old one, but it has given us many years of service. It too, was a big screen model but not the slim sleek kind. No, this one must weigh at least a hundred pounds and is nearly four feet tall.
When we remodeled several years ago, we turned the dining room and living room into one big room. The TV sat on one end of the room and we on the other. I'm not sure if it was the TV or us, but a few months ago my husband decided he could not see what was on the screen as clearly as he had been able to. I moved his chair closer to the screen and left mine where it was. After a week or two of this viewing set up, I felt like I was sitting in the back of the theater by myself and moved my chair next to his. So here we were, in this great big room, with our chairs sitting in the middle of the room about six feet in front of the TV. The first time our kids saw this arrangement must have been what prompted their idea for the gift.
The old TV was housed in what used to be a built in china cabinet and set about three feet up off the floor. Our sons-in law hossed it out of the hole, while I hid in the kitchen with my fingers crossed, praying they didn't drop it or knock over the numerous decorations that sat close by. Then they hooked up the new one, programmed the remote and fired it up. The picture was amazing and I nearly had to put my sunglasses on to view it. Now I can put the chairs back where they belong because if I don't, I fear we may glow in the dark.
Everyone left by a little after one, and I curled up in my chair to relax. I was thinking about how stressed I had let myself get this year. How I had procrastinated, thinking I had all the time in the world to get things done, only to discover that my time was running short. I thought about all the things I had wanted to accomplish, but didn't and vowed to do better next year. Next year, I would start in August.
It was about this time, during my inner contemplation, that my phone rang. It was my oldest daughter's husband. She has taken on the responsibility of her husband's side of the family celebration at their house. It seemed that their oldest son had eaten one of the main ingredients to a recipe she was getting ready to prepare and did I have said ingredient.
I had to laugh because anyone who knows this boy, knows that a tomato within a two block radius is not safe. He had eaten an entire box of cherry tomatoes. I knew his mother was probably not a happy camper at this particular moment because of the above mentioned word, testy. I also knew he was in deep do-do, but I'm sure he had put on a face of great innocence. After all, if there wasn't a padlock on the tomatoes, they were surely fair game.
I just happened to have a box of cherry tomatoes. They were for a salad that I had wanted to prepare for our Christmas Eve gathering, but I had run out of time. I had even strategically placed these tomatoes behind a zucchini and a cucumber in the crisper drawer because I knew if this boy saw them, they were history. My procrastination saved his hide.
Things really do happen for a reason. Christmas is over and what's done, is done. What didn't get done really doesn't matter.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
Nuts To You
This morning, while waking, I was thinking about almond bark. What a silly name, I thought, why do they call it almond bark? It doesn't conjure up an appetizing picture. Who wants to sit around and chew the bark?
Almond bark thoughts got me to thinking about nuts. Peanuts in particular. Why do they call them peanuts? They don't really look like peas. My research showed me that peanuts are the only nut that doesn't grow on a tree. Nope, you wont find a peanut tree growing anywhere. They actually grow under the ground, like a potato and are harvested in similar fashion. Since they grow sort of like potatoes and are similar in shape, why not call them poenuts? I like the sound of that. I can just hear someone at the local watering hole saying, "Hey, pass me some of them there poenuts." I believe I shall call them poenuts from now on.
Poenuts got me to thinking about other nuts. The tasty hazelnut, why they named it hazel is beyond me, but they are good. Then there are almonds, walnuts, pecans and cashews. I love cashews and enjoy picking them all out of a container of mixed nuts. This defiant act does not please my husband....which is probably why I do it in the first place.
His mother introduced me to the wonderful macadamia nut. I doubt there is a person, in a three county radius from here, who didn't have or love Tutu's macadamia nut cookies. Not to mention the legions of country western artists that she followed. Tutu was a country western groopie. I don't think there was a concert that she attended, that she didn't have a backstage pass. She always took macadamia nut cookies for the performer and their league of band members. After a taste of those cookies, she gained instant access to their motor homes and became part of their family. Yes indeed, she had a way with those magic macadamia nuts.
Then there are Brazil nuts. As far as I'm concerned, they can ship the whole lot of them back to South America. Yuk, they are nasty. I think their only purpose is for filler. They take up more space than other nuts and that keeps the folks at the mixed nut factory from putting too many of the tasty nuts in one batch. Brazil nuts come from the same "family" as blueberries. Well, that's just nuts to me.
Coconuts have always perplexed me. Since they grow way up high, I always thought they should be called cuckoo nuts, because that's what you would be if one hit you on the head. They are probably the only nut that has been made into clothing, I always did want a coconut bra. It would last forever and never lose its shape but since the shell is rather rough they'd probably be hard on a sweater.
This mornings paper had yet another article about the new healthcare system. Thousands of people in Illinois have to reapply because of a glitch in the system......again. Do you suppose they are saying, "Well, nuts!"?
Almond bark thoughts got me to thinking about nuts. Peanuts in particular. Why do they call them peanuts? They don't really look like peas. My research showed me that peanuts are the only nut that doesn't grow on a tree. Nope, you wont find a peanut tree growing anywhere. They actually grow under the ground, like a potato and are harvested in similar fashion. Since they grow sort of like potatoes and are similar in shape, why not call them poenuts? I like the sound of that. I can just hear someone at the local watering hole saying, "Hey, pass me some of them there poenuts." I believe I shall call them poenuts from now on.
Poenuts got me to thinking about other nuts. The tasty hazelnut, why they named it hazel is beyond me, but they are good. Then there are almonds, walnuts, pecans and cashews. I love cashews and enjoy picking them all out of a container of mixed nuts. This defiant act does not please my husband....which is probably why I do it in the first place.
His mother introduced me to the wonderful macadamia nut. I doubt there is a person, in a three county radius from here, who didn't have or love Tutu's macadamia nut cookies. Not to mention the legions of country western artists that she followed. Tutu was a country western groopie. I don't think there was a concert that she attended, that she didn't have a backstage pass. She always took macadamia nut cookies for the performer and their league of band members. After a taste of those cookies, she gained instant access to their motor homes and became part of their family. Yes indeed, she had a way with those magic macadamia nuts.
Then there are Brazil nuts. As far as I'm concerned, they can ship the whole lot of them back to South America. Yuk, they are nasty. I think their only purpose is for filler. They take up more space than other nuts and that keeps the folks at the mixed nut factory from putting too many of the tasty nuts in one batch. Brazil nuts come from the same "family" as blueberries. Well, that's just nuts to me.
Coconuts have always perplexed me. Since they grow way up high, I always thought they should be called cuckoo nuts, because that's what you would be if one hit you on the head. They are probably the only nut that has been made into clothing, I always did want a coconut bra. It would last forever and never lose its shape but since the shell is rather rough they'd probably be hard on a sweater.
This mornings paper had yet another article about the new healthcare system. Thousands of people in Illinois have to reapply because of a glitch in the system......again. Do you suppose they are saying, "Well, nuts!"?
Wednesday, December 18, 2013
Dear Diary
Dear Diary,
Today is Wednesday. That is not usually a big deal, but this Wednesday happens to be the Wednesday before Christmas. I suddenly realized I had not done any shopping yet.....Thank God for Amazon.com. Once again, it has saved me, but my youngest grandson may have to open a picture of one of his gifts. I vow to do better next year.
Also, Wednesday is trash day. I missed it. I was too busy shopping online and by the time I heard the garbage truck, it was too late. That was not a good thing. This was the week I really needed to get rid of a bunch of stuff. This was the week I needed to go through the house and empty all the little trash receptacles that are placed hither and yon. I think the trash man was not too happy with me also. He was probably expecting the bin to be full, even though the truck actually empties the bin, and it was not. I did finally get the trash out this evening and the bin was turned completely around, facing the wrong direction. This caused me to trek through the snow, to put forgotten trash into the bin.
This wouldn't have been such a bad thing except the snow is really not snow anymore. Even though the temperature got up into the 40's today, my big honkin' trash receptacle is on the north side of my house. The path to it has glazed over and having it faced the opposite direction as usual, made cause for some interesting foot work. I did manage to hoss everything in the bin, but there is little room left. If he wasn't happy this week, he will be less happy next.
Diary, I got some really neat food today. My youngest daughter has been telling me about this group that gets these great food baskets for a good price. I decided I would get one too. It was full of fresh veggies and fruit. It looks really pretty in the food crisper drawer. Perhaps I will make something before their pretty colors fade to a whiter shade of grey. I'm not sure what to do with yellow squash, sounds like a good google search. Here's a pic:
Diary, I've been really busy and did something I said I wouldn't do. Take orders after the cut off date. So therefore, I've been rolling beads like crazy, the results have been most satisfying. Next year I will not be so kind.....I think I said that last year too.
It was raining out back today. Well, not really. The wood lattice that is over the top of the pergola holds snow, even though there are one inch holes in the lattice. When the temperature rises the lattice turns into nature's ice maker. The snow melts like crazy and drips like rain, but every so often a nice square cube of ice falls out of the one inch opening. It's kind of neat, unless you are standing out there and one hits you in the head, or worse, falls down the back of your shirt. The cats do not appreciate this much either. It makes for some pretty soggy cat chow. I keep hoping they know it's almost Christmas and maybe they think it really came out of a can.
Since I haven't left the house again for two days, I've been listening to a lot of music. Isn't it funny how you can listen to a song and sing along with it thinking you know the words, only to find out later that what you were singing wasn't even close. I like Eminem. Yes, I know he is a deep dark dude, but I like him none the less. His songs always make me think he has been to places that most of us would hopefully never go. He has a new song out on the radio. It has a chorus that I was sure went something like this; "well, that's my plan". Then I decided that wasn't right and thought it was "well, that's not fair". I finally clicked on the lyrics tab and it is actually "well, that's nothing". I was close, I had the "well" right. Reminds me of my brother in law singing 'America the Beautiful' with 'amber waves of grey'..... Diary, did you know you can spell that color two different ways...grey, gray and the spell checker is none the wiser.
Amid all the other things I needed to do today, I put up another decoration. I really hadn't intended to, but this thing was laying on the kitchen counter and I had to do something with it. The hanger was Mother's. It's supposed to hold tender cuttings of plants for future potting, but since it really isn't the season to be planting, I had another idea. I found this lovely ornament given to me by my niece, Matilda, I think it looks quite nice....
Then Diary, it was time to cook supper. Did you know you can bake bacon? That is the most wonderful thing ever. I like to wear red. During the summer, I wear a red shirt almost everyday, until I discovered that I had obviously cooked bacon while wearing every red shirt I own. You can cook bacon in the oven by placing the bacon strips on a cookie sheet and then putting the sheet into the oven at 325 degrees. After about 20 minutes, you can decided how much longer the bacon needs to cook. At 20 minutes the bacon is still pretty whimpy so for crisp bacon, it takes a little longer. Unfortunately I have used all my cookie sheets for things unrelated to baking. They have been used for paint trays, sleds, welding projects, just to name a few, so I finally went to the store and bought some of those aluminum user-friendly-one-time-use ones. They are great! I have used them numerous times and they go through the dishwasher just fine. Not being sled worthy has probably attributed to their long life as oven utensils.
Diary, you know those "green" skillets that are advertised as being the next best thing? Well, not so much. This is what mine looked like after cooking scrambled eggs....no chance of them sliding out of the skillet....
Then I was supposed to clean my desk....that didn't happen either....
Last but not least, I made myself a pot of coffee. I do not like coffee but it helps to cut the Baileys. Baileys Irish Creme is another wonderful thing. The last time I drank it I nearly spontaneously combusted, so this may be my last entry. I thought about making some earlier today, but Baileys and bead rolling makes for some unshapely beadiness and I thought better of it.
Good Night Diary, until tomorrow.
Today is Wednesday. That is not usually a big deal, but this Wednesday happens to be the Wednesday before Christmas. I suddenly realized I had not done any shopping yet.....Thank God for Amazon.com. Once again, it has saved me, but my youngest grandson may have to open a picture of one of his gifts. I vow to do better next year.
Also, Wednesday is trash day. I missed it. I was too busy shopping online and by the time I heard the garbage truck, it was too late. That was not a good thing. This was the week I really needed to get rid of a bunch of stuff. This was the week I needed to go through the house and empty all the little trash receptacles that are placed hither and yon. I think the trash man was not too happy with me also. He was probably expecting the bin to be full, even though the truck actually empties the bin, and it was not. I did finally get the trash out this evening and the bin was turned completely around, facing the wrong direction. This caused me to trek through the snow, to put forgotten trash into the bin.
This wouldn't have been such a bad thing except the snow is really not snow anymore. Even though the temperature got up into the 40's today, my big honkin' trash receptacle is on the north side of my house. The path to it has glazed over and having it faced the opposite direction as usual, made cause for some interesting foot work. I did manage to hoss everything in the bin, but there is little room left. If he wasn't happy this week, he will be less happy next.
Diary, I got some really neat food today. My youngest daughter has been telling me about this group that gets these great food baskets for a good price. I decided I would get one too. It was full of fresh veggies and fruit. It looks really pretty in the food crisper drawer. Perhaps I will make something before their pretty colors fade to a whiter shade of grey. I'm not sure what to do with yellow squash, sounds like a good google search. Here's a pic:
It was raining out back today. Well, not really. The wood lattice that is over the top of the pergola holds snow, even though there are one inch holes in the lattice. When the temperature rises the lattice turns into nature's ice maker. The snow melts like crazy and drips like rain, but every so often a nice square cube of ice falls out of the one inch opening. It's kind of neat, unless you are standing out there and one hits you in the head, or worse, falls down the back of your shirt. The cats do not appreciate this much either. It makes for some pretty soggy cat chow. I keep hoping they know it's almost Christmas and maybe they think it really came out of a can.
Since I haven't left the house again for two days, I've been listening to a lot of music. Isn't it funny how you can listen to a song and sing along with it thinking you know the words, only to find out later that what you were singing wasn't even close. I like Eminem. Yes, I know he is a deep dark dude, but I like him none the less. His songs always make me think he has been to places that most of us would hopefully never go. He has a new song out on the radio. It has a chorus that I was sure went something like this; "well, that's my plan". Then I decided that wasn't right and thought it was "well, that's not fair". I finally clicked on the lyrics tab and it is actually "well, that's nothing". I was close, I had the "well" right. Reminds me of my brother in law singing 'America the Beautiful' with 'amber waves of grey'..... Diary, did you know you can spell that color two different ways...grey, gray and the spell checker is none the wiser.
Amid all the other things I needed to do today, I put up another decoration. I really hadn't intended to, but this thing was laying on the kitchen counter and I had to do something with it. The hanger was Mother's. It's supposed to hold tender cuttings of plants for future potting, but since it really isn't the season to be planting, I had another idea. I found this lovely ornament given to me by my niece, Matilda, I think it looks quite nice....
Diary, you know those "green" skillets that are advertised as being the next best thing? Well, not so much. This is what mine looked like after cooking scrambled eggs....no chance of them sliding out of the skillet....
Last but not least, I made myself a pot of coffee. I do not like coffee but it helps to cut the Baileys. Baileys Irish Creme is another wonderful thing. The last time I drank it I nearly spontaneously combusted, so this may be my last entry. I thought about making some earlier today, but Baileys and bead rolling makes for some unshapely beadiness and I thought better of it.
Good Night Diary, until tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
Random Winter Thoughts
Not leaving the house for days at a time makes for some pretty dull blog content. It's not like I'm a hermit, but I could be, I just have a lot of stuff to finish in a short amount of time.
I did go get the mail yesterday, that was a fun trip. My sister, Lela, had called just as I walked out the door. I chatted with her as I drove the long four blocks to the post office. Then I sat in my car and we chatted some more. I finally decided to go in and get my mail, even though I do dislike it when people can't put their phone down long enough to do mundane things, like getting their mail. I gave a wave to the post master, she was on the phone too, so I didn't feel as rude as the message I was sending.
I headed back to the car, still chatting with Lela, and gingerly walking and watching my steps. We got our first measurable snow fall the other day. Since then paths have been scooped and it has warmed up just enough to melt and refreeze the areas that were not cleared to the pavement. I do not like to fall. The last time I fell, I was standing on black ice, perfectly still. The next thing I knew my feet were magically whisked from beneath me and I landed hard on my butt with both hands at my sides. The car keys clutched in one hand were now embedded in my palm and I ended up with a slight fracture in the other elbow. So, no, I do not like to fall.
I was still making my way back to the car, still chatting with Lela and had all my mail in my free hand. Just before I got to the car, my mail did a magic trick and leaped from my hand, straight up into the air. It looked like the card game, 52 pick up. I relay this situation to Lela and now I'm trying to gather my mail, with whatever dignity I have left, still trying not to fall and laughing like an idiot along with my sister. That was yesterdays' highlight.
This morning I was standing outside, listening. Snow makes for good insulation, everything is so quiet. Even the birds are quiet. Of course, the migratory birds all had the good sense to skidaddle to the south as the weather turned cold, but I miss their morning chatter. The cardinals that remain gave me a cold stare, probably wondering why I haven't filled my feeders. I will, but that will require me to not only leave the house, but to leave town....maybe tomorrow.
Speaking of town, my little town of Griggsville, Illinois made the list of the safest place to live in the state. Not only did it make the list, it was THEEE number one safest place and made for some front page news on today's paper. It's good to have some claim to fame besides living in the most broke state in the union. Can we say BUDGET people? The rest of us have to live on one.
Looking at the snow again, I glance at the calendar. It won't be officially winter for five more days. Winter months make for dry air in the house. I should really think about filling the humidifier in the bed room. Our bed is all metal. While I was making the bed, I touched the headboard. I now know what it feels like to be tazered, yep, lots of static in the air. A really good definition of static cling would be, arriving home to find your favorite pair of lace panties stuck to the back of your hoodie. Fun stuff, winter.
Once again, I cannot see the top of my desk. I don't understand how that happens, but it is not on my list of things to do today, so it will have to wait. Luckily the keyboard slides out from under the top of the desk, so I can still put my random winter thoughts on the screen.
I did go get the mail yesterday, that was a fun trip. My sister, Lela, had called just as I walked out the door. I chatted with her as I drove the long four blocks to the post office. Then I sat in my car and we chatted some more. I finally decided to go in and get my mail, even though I do dislike it when people can't put their phone down long enough to do mundane things, like getting their mail. I gave a wave to the post master, she was on the phone too, so I didn't feel as rude as the message I was sending.
I headed back to the car, still chatting with Lela, and gingerly walking and watching my steps. We got our first measurable snow fall the other day. Since then paths have been scooped and it has warmed up just enough to melt and refreeze the areas that were not cleared to the pavement. I do not like to fall. The last time I fell, I was standing on black ice, perfectly still. The next thing I knew my feet were magically whisked from beneath me and I landed hard on my butt with both hands at my sides. The car keys clutched in one hand were now embedded in my palm and I ended up with a slight fracture in the other elbow. So, no, I do not like to fall.
I was still making my way back to the car, still chatting with Lela and had all my mail in my free hand. Just before I got to the car, my mail did a magic trick and leaped from my hand, straight up into the air. It looked like the card game, 52 pick up. I relay this situation to Lela and now I'm trying to gather my mail, with whatever dignity I have left, still trying not to fall and laughing like an idiot along with my sister. That was yesterdays' highlight.
This morning I was standing outside, listening. Snow makes for good insulation, everything is so quiet. Even the birds are quiet. Of course, the migratory birds all had the good sense to skidaddle to the south as the weather turned cold, but I miss their morning chatter. The cardinals that remain gave me a cold stare, probably wondering why I haven't filled my feeders. I will, but that will require me to not only leave the house, but to leave town....maybe tomorrow.
Speaking of town, my little town of Griggsville, Illinois made the list of the safest place to live in the state. Not only did it make the list, it was THEEE number one safest place and made for some front page news on today's paper. It's good to have some claim to fame besides living in the most broke state in the union. Can we say BUDGET people? The rest of us have to live on one.
Looking at the snow again, I glance at the calendar. It won't be officially winter for five more days. Winter months make for dry air in the house. I should really think about filling the humidifier in the bed room. Our bed is all metal. While I was making the bed, I touched the headboard. I now know what it feels like to be tazered, yep, lots of static in the air. A really good definition of static cling would be, arriving home to find your favorite pair of lace panties stuck to the back of your hoodie. Fun stuff, winter.
Once again, I cannot see the top of my desk. I don't understand how that happens, but it is not on my list of things to do today, so it will have to wait. Luckily the keyboard slides out from under the top of the desk, so I can still put my random winter thoughts on the screen.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Just One More.....Maybe
This time of the year the kids are excited. After all, it's the season of Christmas. The recent addition of the 'Elf on the Shelf' probably has kids rolling out of bed earlier than usual, to see what mischief he has been up to over night. Parents may need to incorporate this concept for the entire school year, although it may be difficult to come up with something new everyday for nine months.
So I'm going to blog one more time about Christmas. Just one more time.......maybe.
Our Sunday paper had an article I found rather amusing. The Atheists are at it again, God love em', no pun intended. They are aggravated with the display of Christmas themed decorations on public property. Since they don't believe in a higher being they jump on the hoopla band wagon of the separation of church and state. This time though, they decided if you can't beat them, join them.
They erected a huge sculpture in the shape of an A and adorned it with red lights. It's a rather abstract A, but I suppose that adds to its sculpturiness and makes people lean to one side, trying to figure out what it is. When I saw the picture of it and discovered the lights were red, the first thing that came to my mind was a book I had to read in high school English class.
The Atheists felt like they needed to have their viewpoint shared. One fellow even said that all of us Christmas revelers didn't even know what we are celebrating. He said we are celebrating the winter solstice, thus the additional banner to the A that read, "Happy Winter Solstice". He said we needed to have that pointed out, so we would know exactly what we are doing, because after all, that is the true reason for the season.
People have been celebrating Christmas on December 25 for hundreds of years. Most people who know the true meaning behind the celebration also know that it isn't the real birth date of Jesus. Yes, December 25 is connected to a pagan worship of the sun date....so what? I was born on September 8, so was Pink, that doesn't make me a rock star. I do try though, when I hear her songs on the radio, makes my grandkids gasp for air and my daughters stand far, far away.
Scholars can't agree on a definite date either, but most believe that Jesus was born in April or early March. Putting up decorations during the Spring would be easier and since the days are beginning to get longer by then, it would help us save on our electric bill because we wouldn't have to turn them on until about 8:30. If we put up a real tree, it would probably last a bit longer if we don't have to run the furnace as much. Maybe even Santa could shed some of those heavy winter clothes, and just wear his long johns, plus the reindeer could stop and get a drink more often if the ponds and lakes have thawed.
I guess we could change the date, but what real difference would it make? If you don't know the true meaning of Christmas, it wouldn't matter when it was celebrated. We in the great mid-west enjoy getting to celebrate during the winter, probably because when we have snow on the ground during Christmas, it adds a touch of magic to the whole season. There are just as many people who live closer to the equator who celebrate Christmas and I doubt they even know it's 'winter solstice time', they may understand the true meaning more than most.
I really don't care if the Atheists put up a big A. It's their right, plain and simple. Just as it is my right to believe and to celebrate.
I'm a huge fan of psychic medium, John Edward. He says the Atheists are always the most surprised when they get to the other side. Now, don't get your panties in a bind by the mention of a psychic, that's another discussion for another day.
I really doubt that the Pearly Gates of Heaven have lights and decorations, but wouldn't it be something if there was a big letter A, all lit up with red lights, standing out front and it meant, "All Are Accommodated"?
Once again, Merry Christmas to you all.
So I'm going to blog one more time about Christmas. Just one more time.......maybe.
Our Sunday paper had an article I found rather amusing. The Atheists are at it again, God love em', no pun intended. They are aggravated with the display of Christmas themed decorations on public property. Since they don't believe in a higher being they jump on the hoopla band wagon of the separation of church and state. This time though, they decided if you can't beat them, join them.
They erected a huge sculpture in the shape of an A and adorned it with red lights. It's a rather abstract A, but I suppose that adds to its sculpturiness and makes people lean to one side, trying to figure out what it is. When I saw the picture of it and discovered the lights were red, the first thing that came to my mind was a book I had to read in high school English class.
The Atheists felt like they needed to have their viewpoint shared. One fellow even said that all of us Christmas revelers didn't even know what we are celebrating. He said we are celebrating the winter solstice, thus the additional banner to the A that read, "Happy Winter Solstice". He said we needed to have that pointed out, so we would know exactly what we are doing, because after all, that is the true reason for the season.
People have been celebrating Christmas on December 25 for hundreds of years. Most people who know the true meaning behind the celebration also know that it isn't the real birth date of Jesus. Yes, December 25 is connected to a pagan worship of the sun date....so what? I was born on September 8, so was Pink, that doesn't make me a rock star. I do try though, when I hear her songs on the radio, makes my grandkids gasp for air and my daughters stand far, far away.
Scholars can't agree on a definite date either, but most believe that Jesus was born in April or early March. Putting up decorations during the Spring would be easier and since the days are beginning to get longer by then, it would help us save on our electric bill because we wouldn't have to turn them on until about 8:30. If we put up a real tree, it would probably last a bit longer if we don't have to run the furnace as much. Maybe even Santa could shed some of those heavy winter clothes, and just wear his long johns, plus the reindeer could stop and get a drink more often if the ponds and lakes have thawed.
I guess we could change the date, but what real difference would it make? If you don't know the true meaning of Christmas, it wouldn't matter when it was celebrated. We in the great mid-west enjoy getting to celebrate during the winter, probably because when we have snow on the ground during Christmas, it adds a touch of magic to the whole season. There are just as many people who live closer to the equator who celebrate Christmas and I doubt they even know it's 'winter solstice time', they may understand the true meaning more than most.
I really don't care if the Atheists put up a big A. It's their right, plain and simple. Just as it is my right to believe and to celebrate.
I'm a huge fan of psychic medium, John Edward. He says the Atheists are always the most surprised when they get to the other side. Now, don't get your panties in a bind by the mention of a psychic, that's another discussion for another day.
I really doubt that the Pearly Gates of Heaven have lights and decorations, but wouldn't it be something if there was a big letter A, all lit up with red lights, standing out front and it meant, "All Are Accommodated"?
Once again, Merry Christmas to you all.
Friday, December 13, 2013
A Little Christmas Truth
Of all the decorations that are put up for Christmas, my most favorite is the Nativity scene. (After all, that is the only reason we celebrate Christmas. Sadly, not everyone knows this truth.)
It has always fascinated me, even as a small child. There is a church up the street from my house and they have a life sized Nativity scene. I can remember jumping in the car with the folks to drive around town to see the all the lights that people had put on their houses and trees, then turning towards the church. We would drive by slowly and there it was, the life size figures sitting in a straw filled stable. There would be spot lights set to shine on the front of the scene and each figure, casting its own shadow, made it look so real to me. I had always wanted to walk up and sit in the stable with the Holy Family, but that was never an option.
Besides the Holy Family, my favorite characters of the Nativity scene were the three wise men. They seemed to be so stately, with long flowing robes of purple, a sign of great wealth. Their camels, adorned with the trappings of royalty, standing solemnly in the background.
When I was a kid, we had one Nativity scene. It was the one piece plastic kind, with glitter glued randomly around the edges and on the roof of the stable. I couldn't wait for Mother to unwrap it to put in her small village scene. There was a small hole in the back of the stable and she would always put a bulb from the light strand in the hole so the stable would glow and the little plastic figures would cast their own shadows.....it just looked so real.
I bought my first Nativity scene the year my oldest daughter was born. It had 19 separate pieces and was made of white plaster. I worked for hours painting each piece to make them appear as "real" as possible. Besides the Holy Family, there were shepherds, sheep, one cow, one donkey, an angel and the three wise men with their three camels. The wise men were posed in various forms of adoration and each had their own separate gift. The camels sported long thick blankets, draped over saddles and tasseled bridles. Since these were my favorite pieces, I took special care to paint each character as lavishly as I could.
Several years ago, while attending a weekend conference, there was a Sunday morning service offered so I decided to attend. I do not recall the entire message the speaker delivered, but he said one sentence that nearly knocked me out of my seat. In fact, when he uttered the words, I was so furious I nearly got up and left the room. Surely he could not be right, how could he stand there and say that in front of a room full of people? I was so shocked, I didn't hear another word he said. I stayed in my seat, but that one phrase was burning a hole in my brain.
He said: The wise men were not there when Jesus was born.
WHAT!?!?!
Guess what? He was right.
The wise men were following a star. Since they were star chart readers, they knew this heavenly alignment marked the beginning of something very significant. It marked the birth of a great king.
A fully loaded camel can travel about 30 miles a day, every day. It took the wise men nearly two years to get to Jesus. If you calculate that distance you will end up with a little over 20,000 miles. If you draw a straight line from Bethlehem to the east at a distance of 20,000 miles, you're in the ocean. So, OK, maybe they didn't travel that many miles, but the point is, they came from a long far away place and if they left the day Jesus was born, it didn't take them 20 minutes to get there.
Also, there were not necessarily three wise men. The reason we refer to there being three is because of the gifts they brought; gold, frankincense and myrrh. If they were wealthy wise men they could have had an entire entourage of assistants and camels. Their arrival probably looked something like a parade and likely caused quite a stir in the community. Not only that, they had access to the political leader of the day, the king. When they found child they were looking for, they found Him at a house. Their arrival marked the beginning of a more sinister time and is the reason why Joseph gathered his family and fled.
Maybe this isn't a big deal to you, but it was earth shattering to me. Why? Because I had spent my entire life believing something that wasn't true. I had just taken someone else's word with out really caring about or searching the facts.
My wise men and camels have set far away from the humble stable setting ever since. I think it would be a good idea if everyone who displays the scene outside, would do the same. If for no other reason than to have someone ask, "Why are the wise men way over there?"
Didn't Jesus say, "if you know the truth, the truth will set you free."?
It has always fascinated me, even as a small child. There is a church up the street from my house and they have a life sized Nativity scene. I can remember jumping in the car with the folks to drive around town to see the all the lights that people had put on their houses and trees, then turning towards the church. We would drive by slowly and there it was, the life size figures sitting in a straw filled stable. There would be spot lights set to shine on the front of the scene and each figure, casting its own shadow, made it look so real to me. I had always wanted to walk up and sit in the stable with the Holy Family, but that was never an option.
Besides the Holy Family, my favorite characters of the Nativity scene were the three wise men. They seemed to be so stately, with long flowing robes of purple, a sign of great wealth. Their camels, adorned with the trappings of royalty, standing solemnly in the background.
When I was a kid, we had one Nativity scene. It was the one piece plastic kind, with glitter glued randomly around the edges and on the roof of the stable. I couldn't wait for Mother to unwrap it to put in her small village scene. There was a small hole in the back of the stable and she would always put a bulb from the light strand in the hole so the stable would glow and the little plastic figures would cast their own shadows.....it just looked so real.
I bought my first Nativity scene the year my oldest daughter was born. It had 19 separate pieces and was made of white plaster. I worked for hours painting each piece to make them appear as "real" as possible. Besides the Holy Family, there were shepherds, sheep, one cow, one donkey, an angel and the three wise men with their three camels. The wise men were posed in various forms of adoration and each had their own separate gift. The camels sported long thick blankets, draped over saddles and tasseled bridles. Since these were my favorite pieces, I took special care to paint each character as lavishly as I could.
Several years ago, while attending a weekend conference, there was a Sunday morning service offered so I decided to attend. I do not recall the entire message the speaker delivered, but he said one sentence that nearly knocked me out of my seat. In fact, when he uttered the words, I was so furious I nearly got up and left the room. Surely he could not be right, how could he stand there and say that in front of a room full of people? I was so shocked, I didn't hear another word he said. I stayed in my seat, but that one phrase was burning a hole in my brain.
He said: The wise men were not there when Jesus was born.
WHAT!?!?!
Guess what? He was right.
The wise men were following a star. Since they were star chart readers, they knew this heavenly alignment marked the beginning of something very significant. It marked the birth of a great king.
A fully loaded camel can travel about 30 miles a day, every day. It took the wise men nearly two years to get to Jesus. If you calculate that distance you will end up with a little over 20,000 miles. If you draw a straight line from Bethlehem to the east at a distance of 20,000 miles, you're in the ocean. So, OK, maybe they didn't travel that many miles, but the point is, they came from a long far away place and if they left the day Jesus was born, it didn't take them 20 minutes to get there.
Also, there were not necessarily three wise men. The reason we refer to there being three is because of the gifts they brought; gold, frankincense and myrrh. If they were wealthy wise men they could have had an entire entourage of assistants and camels. Their arrival probably looked something like a parade and likely caused quite a stir in the community. Not only that, they had access to the political leader of the day, the king. When they found child they were looking for, they found Him at a house. Their arrival marked the beginning of a more sinister time and is the reason why Joseph gathered his family and fled.
Maybe this isn't a big deal to you, but it was earth shattering to me. Why? Because I had spent my entire life believing something that wasn't true. I had just taken someone else's word with out really caring about or searching the facts.
My wise men and camels have set far away from the humble stable setting ever since. I think it would be a good idea if everyone who displays the scene outside, would do the same. If for no other reason than to have someone ask, "Why are the wise men way over there?"
Didn't Jesus say, "if you know the truth, the truth will set you free."?
Thursday, December 12, 2013
Gourd On, Gourd Warrior, Gourd On!
Several years ago a friend gave me a plastic milk crate full of gourds. The gourds were the small ornamental kind and I think that is their only purpose, to be ornamental. I don't recall why I wanted them, I'm sure I had some grand idea in the back of my brain. They sat untouched for a long time.
One October day the grand idea surfaced. I grabbed the milk crate full of now very dry small ornamental gourds, a few small boxes and set my plan in action.
I sent the gourds to each of my immediate family members. They received their gourds, according to how many would participate, along with a letter that went something like this:
You have been chosen to become a Gourd Warrior. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to decorate your gourd for Christmas. All gourds will be shown during our Christmas family gathering. By choosing this mission, you will be helping to save the world, so gourd on.
I keep saying I'm done dragging out the Christmas decorations this year, but every time I go to the basement, I walk too close to the stack of boxes that hold treasures of Christmas past. A particular box caught my eye and when I opened it, I found the fruits of their labor from the Gourd Warrior Challenge. It had been quite awhile since I had displayed them and as I unwrapped each one, the memory of that hilarious Christmas day came rushing back.
I thought you might enjoy the results of the gourd mission:
My niece and her brother crafted these. The blue one has Merry Christmas carved in the front. I will let the viewer figure out which is hers and which one he did. (He also finished his on the way to our house that morning......actually, that's probably when he started working on it.)
One October day the grand idea surfaced. I grabbed the milk crate full of now very dry small ornamental gourds, a few small boxes and set my plan in action.
I sent the gourds to each of my immediate family members. They received their gourds, according to how many would participate, along with a letter that went something like this:
You have been chosen to become a Gourd Warrior. Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to decorate your gourd for Christmas. All gourds will be shown during our Christmas family gathering. By choosing this mission, you will be helping to save the world, so gourd on.
I keep saying I'm done dragging out the Christmas decorations this year, but every time I go to the basement, I walk too close to the stack of boxes that hold treasures of Christmas past. A particular box caught my eye and when I opened it, I found the fruits of their labor from the Gourd Warrior Challenge. It had been quite awhile since I had displayed them and as I unwrapped each one, the memory of that hilarious Christmas day came rushing back.
I thought you might enjoy the results of the gourd mission:
The Star Gourd, compliments of my sister, Blanche.
Mother's. Oh the things you can do with pink nail polish.
My grand niece, Hannahbanana, we think she was about 10 years old when we did this. She's 22 now, and yes, I still call her Hannahbanana.
The Snowball, courtesy of my oldest daughter.
Sun & Moon, courtesy of my youngest daughter.
Don't think we named this one, by my oldest granddaughter.
The Hot Air Balloon, courtesy of Gourd Warrior sister Lela.
The Mystery Gourd, no one will lay claim to this. We have photos, so we will find you.
Mouse in the House.
When I unwrapped these, Mouse was in the hot air balloon basket. Not sure how he got there, but I have super glued him back in his rightful spot. Oh yeah, that's mine.
Merry Christmas, hope you enjoyed the show.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
What Would You Do?
If you have ever bought one of these, you have played this game.
What would you do if you won the lottery?
It's a great game to play and right now with two of the top lottery games totaling over $800 million, there are countless people dreaming of what they will spend it on. Think about it, $800 million is a lot of coconuts, that's pushing towards a billion dollars.
Do you know how much you would have to spend every day for a year to spend a billion dollars? Over 2.7 million....every day. Now, wouldn't that be a hoot.
Of course there would be taxes to pay, so the total would be a bit less than that, but who's counting. We'll take care of those other details later, for now, let's just play.
Most of us would do the most common dream, getting out of debt and helping family and friends. I've read stories of people who have won and they said people came out of the woodwork claiming to be family or just simply asked for money. That is probably why a lot of winners choose to remain anonymous. I don't know if I could stay anonymous, I'd want to run up and down the street....with a bullhorn.
So, after we have taken care of our closest peeps, what next?
I think I would take a vacation, once a month, for a year. Surely I could see all the places I'd like to visit in a year's time. I would begin to scratch things off my bucket list too. Things like wind surfing. I think I should do that first because waiting until I'm 90 would probably be hazardous to my health. Besides, wearing a bikini at late 50 something would look better than at 90....then again, maybe not. But hey, I'm a multimillionaire so I could make sure no one was watching....just the handsome instructor. He would lament about how I couldn't possibly be 50 something and I would laugh and look over the top of my designer shades and say.....oh, sorry, I kind of got off track......anyway.....
Then I think I'd just come home. Wouldn't it be fun to sit down the first of January and write one check each to the utility company, the phone company and whatever else needs paid for on a monthly basis and each check would cover the whole year? A book of checks would last a life time.
I would probably have to start making appointments to see my husband because I know what he would do. He would have a temperature and climate controlled warehouse full of old muscle cars and he could wax on, wax off to his heart's content. A man of simple pleasures, he is. I would be sure to send him lots of "wish you were here" post cards though.
It always amazes me the stories of people who have had a windfall of money come into their lives and end up broke. I guess some people never learn. We tend to think that people who have more money than we ourselves do, are the lucky ones. But, if you make a million dollars a year and spend a million and a half, you're no different than the person who makes 50 thousand and spends 70.
I'm sure I could find more things to spend the money on, but I would like to think I could make it last for future generations, to put it to good use, for the betterment of humanity. I have to admit, since winter is not one of our favorite seasons anymore, I'd have to have a second home. I found this really cool beach house in Florida and it only costs $28 million! Oh, a fool and their money....but you all can come visit whenever you like!
What would you do if you won the lottery?
It's a great game to play and right now with two of the top lottery games totaling over $800 million, there are countless people dreaming of what they will spend it on. Think about it, $800 million is a lot of coconuts, that's pushing towards a billion dollars.
Do you know how much you would have to spend every day for a year to spend a billion dollars? Over 2.7 million....every day. Now, wouldn't that be a hoot.
Of course there would be taxes to pay, so the total would be a bit less than that, but who's counting. We'll take care of those other details later, for now, let's just play.
Most of us would do the most common dream, getting out of debt and helping family and friends. I've read stories of people who have won and they said people came out of the woodwork claiming to be family or just simply asked for money. That is probably why a lot of winners choose to remain anonymous. I don't know if I could stay anonymous, I'd want to run up and down the street....with a bullhorn.
So, after we have taken care of our closest peeps, what next?
I think I would take a vacation, once a month, for a year. Surely I could see all the places I'd like to visit in a year's time. I would begin to scratch things off my bucket list too. Things like wind surfing. I think I should do that first because waiting until I'm 90 would probably be hazardous to my health. Besides, wearing a bikini at late 50 something would look better than at 90....then again, maybe not. But hey, I'm a multimillionaire so I could make sure no one was watching....just the handsome instructor. He would lament about how I couldn't possibly be 50 something and I would laugh and look over the top of my designer shades and say.....oh, sorry, I kind of got off track......anyway.....
Then I think I'd just come home. Wouldn't it be fun to sit down the first of January and write one check each to the utility company, the phone company and whatever else needs paid for on a monthly basis and each check would cover the whole year? A book of checks would last a life time.
I would probably have to start making appointments to see my husband because I know what he would do. He would have a temperature and climate controlled warehouse full of old muscle cars and he could wax on, wax off to his heart's content. A man of simple pleasures, he is. I would be sure to send him lots of "wish you were here" post cards though.
It always amazes me the stories of people who have had a windfall of money come into their lives and end up broke. I guess some people never learn. We tend to think that people who have more money than we ourselves do, are the lucky ones. But, if you make a million dollars a year and spend a million and a half, you're no different than the person who makes 50 thousand and spends 70.
I'm sure I could find more things to spend the money on, but I would like to think I could make it last for future generations, to put it to good use, for the betterment of humanity. I have to admit, since winter is not one of our favorite seasons anymore, I'd have to have a second home. I found this really cool beach house in Florida and it only costs $28 million! Oh, a fool and their money....but you all can come visit whenever you like!
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
Bad Start
Today I did something that I rarely do. It goes against the very nature of my grain and I scoff at others who do this on a regular basis. I over slept.
Waking up nearly an hour later than my usual time definitely didn't start my day out the way I had planned. No, it left me feeling completely snarky, a.k.a, testy, irritable, short.
It didn't have a thing to do with the fact that I did take a sleeping pill last night. Not a prescription brand, just an over the counter generic brand. That is something else I rarely do, but since Arthur has decided to take up residence in some of my joints, I took one. I have learned that taking only one is plenty. The last time I used this sleep aid/pain reliever, I took two. That was the recommended dosage on the bottle. I didn't oversleep, but I walked through invisible jello until sometime after lunch.
Maybe it was because the outside temperature was about 12 degrees and my husband put the extra cover on me when he got up. He puts out enough heat to melt the arctic ice cap, and when he gets out of bed, I begin to do the fetal curl position in order to conserve heat. Being on the edge of freezing also helps me to rise in the morning. Still feeling snarky, I can perhaps place the blame on him.
His saving grace would be the fact that he did go ahead and make my pot of tea. Mother would always say, "When are you going to learn to drink coffee?" Every time she would say that I always wondered why drinking coffee was something that had to be learned and every time I answered her with, "I don't like coffee."
I'm just a tea drinker, and since he did fix mine before he left, I can't really blame him for my morning tardiness. Besides, I'm sure he was glad to be gone before I got downstairs, he had already heard the snarkiness in my voice when I discovered what time it was. The slamming of the bathroom door was probably a good "heads up" for him also.
I was sure my whole day was totally ruined. I had things to do! Lots of things! I had a list written of all the things I needed to get done, I had a plan! Ah, but, "the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry".
My plans certainly did. I've decided to regroup. There isn't a thing I can do to get back the extra hour. Since the first pot of tea is gone, I'm making another. I will just start out like I was supposed to, albeit, a late start. I did the first thing on my list, making a phone call, and I received good news. That will make the rest of the day much better.
Maybe it was just my time to oversleep. Maybe I needed to be reminded that I do not have super human powers and cannot run at full speed ahead without a break. What ever the reason, the sun is shining, my list is still here patiently waiting, and I'm feeling a little less snarky now.
Waking up nearly an hour later than my usual time definitely didn't start my day out the way I had planned. No, it left me feeling completely snarky, a.k.a, testy, irritable, short.
It didn't have a thing to do with the fact that I did take a sleeping pill last night. Not a prescription brand, just an over the counter generic brand. That is something else I rarely do, but since Arthur has decided to take up residence in some of my joints, I took one. I have learned that taking only one is plenty. The last time I used this sleep aid/pain reliever, I took two. That was the recommended dosage on the bottle. I didn't oversleep, but I walked through invisible jello until sometime after lunch.
Maybe it was because the outside temperature was about 12 degrees and my husband put the extra cover on me when he got up. He puts out enough heat to melt the arctic ice cap, and when he gets out of bed, I begin to do the fetal curl position in order to conserve heat. Being on the edge of freezing also helps me to rise in the morning. Still feeling snarky, I can perhaps place the blame on him.
His saving grace would be the fact that he did go ahead and make my pot of tea. Mother would always say, "When are you going to learn to drink coffee?" Every time she would say that I always wondered why drinking coffee was something that had to be learned and every time I answered her with, "I don't like coffee."
I'm just a tea drinker, and since he did fix mine before he left, I can't really blame him for my morning tardiness. Besides, I'm sure he was glad to be gone before I got downstairs, he had already heard the snarkiness in my voice when I discovered what time it was. The slamming of the bathroom door was probably a good "heads up" for him also.
I was sure my whole day was totally ruined. I had things to do! Lots of things! I had a list written of all the things I needed to get done, I had a plan! Ah, but, "the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry".
My plans certainly did. I've decided to regroup. There isn't a thing I can do to get back the extra hour. Since the first pot of tea is gone, I'm making another. I will just start out like I was supposed to, albeit, a late start. I did the first thing on my list, making a phone call, and I received good news. That will make the rest of the day much better.
Maybe it was just my time to oversleep. Maybe I needed to be reminded that I do not have super human powers and cannot run at full speed ahead without a break. What ever the reason, the sun is shining, my list is still here patiently waiting, and I'm feeling a little less snarky now.
Monday, December 9, 2013
Made in the USA
Tis' the time for New Year's Resolutions. Just about every one makes them. We want to lose weight, save money, stop smoking or what ever other nasty habit we might have. We decide to treat ourselves and other people better, to turn over a new leaf.
We make them and then about mid February, the newness begins to wear off and it gets really easy to push them to the back burner....again.
I have made a couple already, but here is the one I'm going to try to stick to all year long......I'm going to try to replace every light bulb in my house with a new LED bulb! Doesn't that sound exciting?
LED bulbs are just about the next best thing since sliced bread in my book. I've ranted about them before, but seriously folks, they are great!
I walked through the house this morning and started counting light bulbs. I've got 14 other irons in the fire that I should be doing, but for now, I'm counting bulbs. So far I've found 102 bulbs. Good grief, that's a lot of light bulbs so it may take all of this coming year and part of the next.
I have a jump start on my resolution because I have already replaced 4 bulbs. The light they emit is nice and bright and they don't put out the heat like an ordinary incandescent bulb does. Oh, I'm getting better with my spelling, I didn't have to look up incandescent and spelled it right the first time! The best thing about LED bulbs is they last for a really long time. You have to take that into consideration when weighing the price. They are a little expensive, but they last for over 20 years so it has to be looked at as a long term investment.
I was so excited with the last two that I purchased. Obviously I'm not getting out enough, but I couldn't wait to install them. These were track light replacement bulbs and I wasn't sure if they could really replace the halogen bulbs. I like the light that a halogen bulb puts out but they get really hot and they don't last very long when they are used a lot. Mine are in the kitchen, so they are on more than any other bulbs in the house. The new LED bulbs out perform the halogens by a mile.
Feeling quite smug with my new purchase, I looked at their packaging and that's when I got disappointed. Made in China.
Dang!
We've already had the fluorescent bulbs crammed down our throats to save energy and I've yet to find one of those made in our country. Further more I do not like the light of a fluorescent bulb. To me, it's like sitting in a cave with a candle. Yes, they have made them brighter, but most of the time they need to warm up a while to reach their full potential of brightnessness. If you have one in the closet and just need to be in there for a second, you're not going to want to stand there and wait for the bulb to warm up.
The technology for the LED was first discovered in the early 1900's in Russia. It wasn't very cost effective so nobody jumped on the band wagon. Later on, in Texas, the LED bulb began to get a little more user friendly and now they have been fined tuned to be a great energy saving replacement, not to mention for the umpteenth time, they put out GREAT light.
I do not wish to buy my light bulbs, or any thing else for that matter, from China. After a search on Google, I found a company in Golden, Colorado called EarthLED. They have lots of different styles of LED bulbs, their prices are lower than some of the "big box" stores but most importantly, the bulbs are made in the USA.
I've yet to order from them, but this morning when I yanked open the refrigerator door, wouldn't you know it, the bulb burned out. I've had this frig for less than a year and I've already replaced this bulb so I will give EarthLED a chance to prove that the LED will last longer than the refrigerator.
Just think about it, better light, uses very little energy and lasts for over 20 years. Why, they could even be handed down to the next generation! Also, if you decide to move you can get more for the price of your home if you leave all the LED bulbs. If the future owner doesn't want to meet your price, pack up all the light bulbs.
Yes, I'm a bit odd when it comes to certain things. I get excited over light bulbs and I save all the cotton that comes out of vitamin bottles. My youngest son-in-law asked me why I kept the cotton. I told him it was his inheritance, now he may also get a light bulb or two.
We make them and then about mid February, the newness begins to wear off and it gets really easy to push them to the back burner....again.
I have made a couple already, but here is the one I'm going to try to stick to all year long......I'm going to try to replace every light bulb in my house with a new LED bulb! Doesn't that sound exciting?
LED bulbs are just about the next best thing since sliced bread in my book. I've ranted about them before, but seriously folks, they are great!
I walked through the house this morning and started counting light bulbs. I've got 14 other irons in the fire that I should be doing, but for now, I'm counting bulbs. So far I've found 102 bulbs. Good grief, that's a lot of light bulbs so it may take all of this coming year and part of the next.
I have a jump start on my resolution because I have already replaced 4 bulbs. The light they emit is nice and bright and they don't put out the heat like an ordinary incandescent bulb does. Oh, I'm getting better with my spelling, I didn't have to look up incandescent and spelled it right the first time! The best thing about LED bulbs is they last for a really long time. You have to take that into consideration when weighing the price. They are a little expensive, but they last for over 20 years so it has to be looked at as a long term investment.
I was so excited with the last two that I purchased. Obviously I'm not getting out enough, but I couldn't wait to install them. These were track light replacement bulbs and I wasn't sure if they could really replace the halogen bulbs. I like the light that a halogen bulb puts out but they get really hot and they don't last very long when they are used a lot. Mine are in the kitchen, so they are on more than any other bulbs in the house. The new LED bulbs out perform the halogens by a mile.
Feeling quite smug with my new purchase, I looked at their packaging and that's when I got disappointed. Made in China.
Dang!
We've already had the fluorescent bulbs crammed down our throats to save energy and I've yet to find one of those made in our country. Further more I do not like the light of a fluorescent bulb. To me, it's like sitting in a cave with a candle. Yes, they have made them brighter, but most of the time they need to warm up a while to reach their full potential of brightnessness. If you have one in the closet and just need to be in there for a second, you're not going to want to stand there and wait for the bulb to warm up.
The technology for the LED was first discovered in the early 1900's in Russia. It wasn't very cost effective so nobody jumped on the band wagon. Later on, in Texas, the LED bulb began to get a little more user friendly and now they have been fined tuned to be a great energy saving replacement, not to mention for the umpteenth time, they put out GREAT light.
I do not wish to buy my light bulbs, or any thing else for that matter, from China. After a search on Google, I found a company in Golden, Colorado called EarthLED. They have lots of different styles of LED bulbs, their prices are lower than some of the "big box" stores but most importantly, the bulbs are made in the USA.
I've yet to order from them, but this morning when I yanked open the refrigerator door, wouldn't you know it, the bulb burned out. I've had this frig for less than a year and I've already replaced this bulb so I will give EarthLED a chance to prove that the LED will last longer than the refrigerator.
Just think about it, better light, uses very little energy and lasts for over 20 years. Why, they could even be handed down to the next generation! Also, if you decide to move you can get more for the price of your home if you leave all the LED bulbs. If the future owner doesn't want to meet your price, pack up all the light bulbs.
Yes, I'm a bit odd when it comes to certain things. I get excited over light bulbs and I save all the cotton that comes out of vitamin bottles. My youngest son-in-law asked me why I kept the cotton. I told him it was his inheritance, now he may also get a light bulb or two.
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