About seven, eight, maybe nine, months ago I noticed something strange going on in the oven of my kitchen stove. The oven was on, although I have no recollection of what bakery madness I may have been up to, but as I passed by and glanced in the oven window it looked like some small entity was inside with a welding torch. Thinking this was probably not a good sign, I turned the oven off.
Later that day I saw my young master electrician friend and asked him, if it looked like a welding arc going on in the oven, was that was a pretty good indication the element was shot? He assured me that it was and told me to look online to find a replacement.
For some reason, that I'm not really sure about, I just decided to do without an oven. Making that decision turned out to hold an element of surprise.
I was surprised at all the things I have learned to do with a skillet, even cooking a tasty, tender roast on top of the stove. I was surprised at all the things that can be cooked on a counter top pizza cooker, even homemade biscuits. I found the pizza cooker at a yard sale, practically brand new, for 20 bucks......this was $5 more than the cost of a replacement element for the oven, but I remained steadfast in my quest to go ovenless. I was surprised to discover the old metal burner trivet, that belonged to Mother, worked well to keep a casserole from becoming 'one with the pan'.
All these learning surprises have been fun, but with the approaching holiday season, and being the hostess for a large family gathering, I realized that cooking a turkey on a counter top pizza cooker was not going to fly....no pun intended. One year we had soup and sandwiches. Since I can still hear the whining and griping from that menu faux pas, I broke down and ordered the oven element.
The element arrived in a timely fashion and I thought it would be a good idea to clean the oven before installing it. The oven has a self cleaning feature that I had only used once. There is something unsettling about an appliance in the house that can lock its own door and heat up to crematory mode. Plus, I didn't think it was a good idea to break in the new element on its hottest setting.
The can of oven cleaner stated that the oven should be warm before applying. Since that was not an option, I opted for the 'cool oven' method, sprayed the inside of the oven, closed the door and went to bed.
The next morning, I gathered my arsenal of cleaning goodies and set out to wipe the muck out of the oven. I thought it would be much easier if I could take the oven door off. The manual that came with the stove said this was easy to do.
I have every instruction manual that came with every gadget, appliance, tool, toy or whatever that has entered this house. I may not have the item it belonged to, but I have the manual. Instruction manuals are written by men. I know this to be true for two reasons. One, they never read them and two, they did not proof read them before sending them to print.
The instruction manual for the stove stated that, for all models, removing the oven door was accomplished in the same way. All that need be done was to remove two screws, place those screws in the holes in the hinges, shut the oven door slowly until it stopped at a 45 degree angle and pull the oven door up and off the hinges, easy peasy......liar, liar, pants. on. fire.
I removed the two screws, which were not anywhere close to the length shown in the manual, and proceeded to the next step, placing them in the holes of the hinges. There were no holes in the hinges and even if there had been holes in the hinges, the screws were too short to stick all the way through them. I referred back to the manual, surely I had missed a step. I hadn't and I kept looking for the stupid holes in the hinges thinking they might magically appear...they did not. The whole purpose of putting the screws in the holes was to stop the oven door from closing all the way, hence the 45 degree angle, for easy oven door removal. Perhaps I could just pull the door off the hinges without it being anchored at 45 degrees. I pulled, tugged, even grunted and the door never moved. After using a reference to the screws, aimed at the oven door, I replaced the screws.
With bath towels for knee pads, I twisted myself like a contortionist in and around the oven. One hour and two rolls of paper towels later, the oven was clean and I was thinking it would have been easier to just go out and buy a new stove. My husband installed the new element and we watched intently to see if it was going to work. The red glow was a lovely sight.
The oven has not been used yet. I like the way it looks, all nice and clean. Maybe I will just turn it on, open the door, pull up a chair and pretend it's a fireplace.
Wednesday, December 17, 2014
Wednesday, December 10, 2014
Tea & Seeds
The bird feeders are swaying in the breeze. They have no feathered friends fluttering back and forth because they are empty. No seeds..... like my head...... no thoughts.
My proof reader is not happy with me and sends me short, to the point, messages. Something, anything, please! Sigh.....I'm trying.
The sun has not shown its face for days. It's depressing. Even the weatherman on the late night news was fed up with it. I wonder, if a whole bunch of positive minded people were to decide that at a specific time they would all think thoughts of the clouds dissipating for just one hour, if it would work? We could call them "Cloud Busters". It might work, but I think that there are many more people lamenting about the gloominess of the situation and their thoughts outweigh the positive outcome.
Something odd happened this morning though. One of the main characters of my book, I will refer to him as M.C., showed up. He waltzed into the office, pulled out a folding chair, sat down and announced to me that he was bored.
"Bored?", I asked.
"Yes.", he replied.
"Why?"
"Because, I am tired of playing the same scene over and over again.". He spoke the words slowly, enunciating each word with a slight pause between them. His voice is deep and smooth, the words dripped like molten chocolate.
I glanced at him, trying not to meet his gaze. It didn't work. My eyes locked with his, deep dark pools of liquid midnight. He was wearing his familiar white gauze drawstring pants that rest seductively at his hips and the white gauze shirt that is never buttoned. I knew instantly where he had been, a few grains of sand were still clinging to his feet.
"I know", I said, sighing the same sigh Mother would do when she was bored, the sigh that always drove me crazy. "I've just been so busy and I have so much to do in a short amount of time. The scene isn't that bad, is it?"
"Not at all.", he said and gave me a wicked grin. With that he rose from the chair and descended the basement stairs. I watched him, wondering what he was up to.
It was about this time that I heard the clacking noise. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the Voice pass through the living room. The Voice, that lives in my head, has always been my constant companion. It has always carried a pair of large red flags, much like those one would use to land and park a Boeing 747. It uses these flags to warn me of eminent danger. I have spent a great deal of time ignoring the Voice, even when the flags were whirling at maximum velocity.
The Voice was doing the cat walk through the living room. It had watched the Victoria's Secrets fashion show on TV last night. It had found a pair of rarely worn high heeled shoes in my closet, a pair of tattered lace panties and an old push-up bra. As the clacking began to grow louder, I turned my chair to watch as it pranced by. The Voice, like me, has no legs. When the Master of the Universe was handing out legs we thought he said "eggs" and politely said, "No thank you, we will just get ours at the store."
The Voice obviously could not find any wings but had discovered a brightly colored beach towel and had it draped around its shoulders. Since the Voice is quite smitten with M.C., the flags were tucked into each side of the tattered panties. It was quite a site, but then again, not the first time I had seen the Voice doing its own thing.
M.C. emerged from the basement, carrying a china teacup and saucer and headed to the kitchen. The china has been boxed up for years. It is what I like to call 'grocery store china', the kind where for every twenty or so dollars of groceries bought, a stamp was earned. The stamps were placed on a card and when the card was full, it could be redeemed for a place setting of china. I bought a lot of groceries, enough for 12 place settings, along with all the accessories. The china has been used maybe twice.
M.C. returned to the office with a cup of tea and sat down in his chair. "What are you doing?", I asked, trying to look preoccupied.
He chuckled and answered, "Defining my character." I rolled my eyes and acted like I didn't get the gist of his meaning.
M.C. quietly finished his tea, but I could still feel his gaze. He set the empty cup and saucer on my desk and took my hand. I had no choice but to look at him. "I understand, you are busy. These things will all come together. You will meet your deadlines and the stress you unwittingly put upon yourself will be gone." His voice was all but a whisper, but the words were crystal clear. "But, my lady, do not forget your passion."
He kissed the back of my hand and disappeared. The Voice, witnessing the kiss, tripped, fell flat on the floor and the red flags skidded into the kitchen. The brightly colored beach towel splayed across its head.
I think I will go buy some bird seed.
My proof reader is not happy with me and sends me short, to the point, messages. Something, anything, please! Sigh.....I'm trying.
The sun has not shown its face for days. It's depressing. Even the weatherman on the late night news was fed up with it. I wonder, if a whole bunch of positive minded people were to decide that at a specific time they would all think thoughts of the clouds dissipating for just one hour, if it would work? We could call them "Cloud Busters". It might work, but I think that there are many more people lamenting about the gloominess of the situation and their thoughts outweigh the positive outcome.
Something odd happened this morning though. One of the main characters of my book, I will refer to him as M.C., showed up. He waltzed into the office, pulled out a folding chair, sat down and announced to me that he was bored.
"Bored?", I asked.
"Yes.", he replied.
"Why?"
"Because, I am tired of playing the same scene over and over again.". He spoke the words slowly, enunciating each word with a slight pause between them. His voice is deep and smooth, the words dripped like molten chocolate.
I glanced at him, trying not to meet his gaze. It didn't work. My eyes locked with his, deep dark pools of liquid midnight. He was wearing his familiar white gauze drawstring pants that rest seductively at his hips and the white gauze shirt that is never buttoned. I knew instantly where he had been, a few grains of sand were still clinging to his feet.
"I know", I said, sighing the same sigh Mother would do when she was bored, the sigh that always drove me crazy. "I've just been so busy and I have so much to do in a short amount of time. The scene isn't that bad, is it?"
"Not at all.", he said and gave me a wicked grin. With that he rose from the chair and descended the basement stairs. I watched him, wondering what he was up to.
It was about this time that I heard the clacking noise. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see the Voice pass through the living room. The Voice, that lives in my head, has always been my constant companion. It has always carried a pair of large red flags, much like those one would use to land and park a Boeing 747. It uses these flags to warn me of eminent danger. I have spent a great deal of time ignoring the Voice, even when the flags were whirling at maximum velocity.
The Voice was doing the cat walk through the living room. It had watched the Victoria's Secrets fashion show on TV last night. It had found a pair of rarely worn high heeled shoes in my closet, a pair of tattered lace panties and an old push-up bra. As the clacking began to grow louder, I turned my chair to watch as it pranced by. The Voice, like me, has no legs. When the Master of the Universe was handing out legs we thought he said "eggs" and politely said, "No thank you, we will just get ours at the store."
The Voice obviously could not find any wings but had discovered a brightly colored beach towel and had it draped around its shoulders. Since the Voice is quite smitten with M.C., the flags were tucked into each side of the tattered panties. It was quite a site, but then again, not the first time I had seen the Voice doing its own thing.
M.C. emerged from the basement, carrying a china teacup and saucer and headed to the kitchen. The china has been boxed up for years. It is what I like to call 'grocery store china', the kind where for every twenty or so dollars of groceries bought, a stamp was earned. The stamps were placed on a card and when the card was full, it could be redeemed for a place setting of china. I bought a lot of groceries, enough for 12 place settings, along with all the accessories. The china has been used maybe twice.
M.C. returned to the office with a cup of tea and sat down in his chair. "What are you doing?", I asked, trying to look preoccupied.
He chuckled and answered, "Defining my character." I rolled my eyes and acted like I didn't get the gist of his meaning.
M.C. quietly finished his tea, but I could still feel his gaze. He set the empty cup and saucer on my desk and took my hand. I had no choice but to look at him. "I understand, you are busy. These things will all come together. You will meet your deadlines and the stress you unwittingly put upon yourself will be gone." His voice was all but a whisper, but the words were crystal clear. "But, my lady, do not forget your passion."
He kissed the back of my hand and disappeared. The Voice, witnessing the kiss, tripped, fell flat on the floor and the red flags skidded into the kitchen. The brightly colored beach towel splayed across its head.
I think I will go buy some bird seed.
Thursday, December 4, 2014
Tis' The Season
Tis' the season of shopping, decorating, eating enough chocolate to last for an entire year. A season of celebration, seeing old friends and family and the ever so popular school Christmas program.
Sitting on bleachers is not something my husband and I look forward to, but we did our grandparently duty and headed for the school gymnasium. The two oldest grandsons decided to join us. They are in junior high, much too cool to be in a Christmas program. It was time for the two youngest grandchildren, Ms. Sassafrass and her older brother, to carry on this tradition.
Like most programs, the ones you go to see perform are either the very first group, or the last. Sassafrass' class was not only first, she was the leader and of course, looked lovely in her fur trimmed green holiday dress.
We had taken a seat about mid section of the gym and two rows from the top......where all the heat goes. I scanned the crowd. Funny, people do not dress up anymore. Ms. Sassafrass was also scanning the crowd, possibly getting a little stage fright looking at a sea of unknown faces. She spotted her Papa and me. I'm sure that had nothing to do with the bright red sleeve of my shirt waving at her. Her face lit up and she waved. When it was time for her to play the bells, she made sure we were watching.
Her brother's turn came a few classes later. He is seven now and looked quite dapper in his shirt and tie. That was a good thing, he never sang a note. I think he may have mouthed a word or two, but he was there under duress. At least he did not have his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his mad face on, maturity is growing on him.
During each performance, many parents came to the center of the gym to take pictures and videos of their children. We looked at this group and noticed grandson #2 was right in the middle of the photographers. He and his older brother had decided to sit on the other side of the gym, across from us, with Sassafrass' parents.
This young man is 10 years old. He sat among the parents, armed with a cell phone, and took pictures. He must have decided it was the best seat in the house because he stayed there for the duration, taking pictures. He has had much training, watching his mother with her sideline photography business.
He is also a true chip off of his father's block. Every year when the Christmas season begins, they have two rituals.....watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and going together to find a tree....a live tree. The latter of these tasks was concluded last week. The tree, as usual, was enormous and when they got home with it, grandson #2 stated that he did not think it would fit through the door. His father cautioned him to "stand back" and as he rammed the tree and himself into the open doorway, grandson #2 said, "It's a beaut' Clark!"
Tis' the season. Enjoy, have fun, go to the programs, put up a decoration or two and spend time making some memories.
Sitting on bleachers is not something my husband and I look forward to, but we did our grandparently duty and headed for the school gymnasium. The two oldest grandsons decided to join us. They are in junior high, much too cool to be in a Christmas program. It was time for the two youngest grandchildren, Ms. Sassafrass and her older brother, to carry on this tradition.
Like most programs, the ones you go to see perform are either the very first group, or the last. Sassafrass' class was not only first, she was the leader and of course, looked lovely in her fur trimmed green holiday dress.
We had taken a seat about mid section of the gym and two rows from the top......where all the heat goes. I scanned the crowd. Funny, people do not dress up anymore. Ms. Sassafrass was also scanning the crowd, possibly getting a little stage fright looking at a sea of unknown faces. She spotted her Papa and me. I'm sure that had nothing to do with the bright red sleeve of my shirt waving at her. Her face lit up and she waved. When it was time for her to play the bells, she made sure we were watching.
Her brother's turn came a few classes later. He is seven now and looked quite dapper in his shirt and tie. That was a good thing, he never sang a note. I think he may have mouthed a word or two, but he was there under duress. At least he did not have his arms crossed tightly across his chest and his mad face on, maturity is growing on him.
During each performance, many parents came to the center of the gym to take pictures and videos of their children. We looked at this group and noticed grandson #2 was right in the middle of the photographers. He and his older brother had decided to sit on the other side of the gym, across from us, with Sassafrass' parents.
This young man is 10 years old. He sat among the parents, armed with a cell phone, and took pictures. He must have decided it was the best seat in the house because he stayed there for the duration, taking pictures. He has had much training, watching his mother with her sideline photography business.
He is also a true chip off of his father's block. Every year when the Christmas season begins, they have two rituals.....watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and going together to find a tree....a live tree. The latter of these tasks was concluded last week. The tree, as usual, was enormous and when they got home with it, grandson #2 stated that he did not think it would fit through the door. His father cautioned him to "stand back" and as he rammed the tree and himself into the open doorway, grandson #2 said, "It's a beaut' Clark!"
Tis' the season. Enjoy, have fun, go to the programs, put up a decoration or two and spend time making some memories.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
For The Girls
Yesterday's blog was about the common misconception that love and sex are the same thing and that message permeates most of today's music. Today, I would like to embark on some sexual tRuth as I see it. Although it is my intention to share these thoughts with anyone willing to take the time to read this, it is a message for the girls, the young girls.
Hardly a month goes by that there is not some article about a person getting into trouble for having a relationship with a much younger person. Some are teachers having a relationship with a student. Some are people who are just over the legal limit of what is considered adulthood. In most of these cases, lives are tarnished and careers are ruined.
There is nothing new about younger women, girls, falling for older guys, but there has been a huge shift in what can happen to these men, boys, if things go too far. Believe me when I say, there was a time in my life that if my Mother could have played the age card, she would have. Along with having 5 aces up her sleeve.
Reading some comments about a case of an older male with a much younger female, I was surprised at the number of times people said fourteen year old girls do not know what they are doing and it was all the man's fault.
Fourteen year old girls, or 15-18 year old girls, may not understand the consequences of what they are doing, but they know exactly what they are doing. To think otherwise is a common misconception. If they have watched TV, listened to music, flipped through the pages of a magazine, they know what they are doing.
So, my message for the girls is this: When you take that final look in the mirror, wearing your skin tight jeans and shirt, understand that your body is yours and yours alone. It is not who you are, it is not a weapon of power, it is not something to use carelessly or give away freely. If you are fortunate to live a long life, that body has a 99% chance of changing over the years. If you do not believe this, look at your mother, then ask her for her high school year book. What makes you who you are is the way you think about yourself. Yes, you are surrounded by peer pressure and you may be hearing the pleas of someone you think you are in love with to take that next step. He will not explode if you don't take that step and most likely will not think better of you if you do.
Think good thoughts about yourself and share those good thoughts with others. Keep your chin up in times of hurt feelings, these things will pass. Do not worry about what someone thinks of you, in actuality, they spend much more time thinking about themselves. Be kind to others, but especially to your self. Life is full of awesome adventures, even the ones that do not feel so awesome. These things are there for you to learn lessons, lessons that will help guide you the rest of your life. Remember, what you think to be true at fourteen, will be something you will laugh at when you are 20.
Do not be afraid to ask questions. Believe it or not, parents, grandparents, and most adults in general, have had sex, and, like it or not, are still having sex. If they are uncomfortable talking to you about it, find someone who is not uncomfortable and listen to what they tell you.
Before closing, I want to be clear about something. I am not ranting about the clothes. When I was in high school, our hem lines were so short, even in the dead of winter, that I'm surprised half of us did not die of pneumonia. I am also not placing the blame entirely on the girls. Boys have their own common misconceptions and if some of them were true, most men would have gone through life with their eyes permanently crossed. But girls must remember that no matter how hard you try, boys do not, and never will, think like girls and what boys are thinking about when it comes to sex has nothing to do with love.
Be yourself, and most importantly, be true to yourself.
Hardly a month goes by that there is not some article about a person getting into trouble for having a relationship with a much younger person. Some are teachers having a relationship with a student. Some are people who are just over the legal limit of what is considered adulthood. In most of these cases, lives are tarnished and careers are ruined.
There is nothing new about younger women, girls, falling for older guys, but there has been a huge shift in what can happen to these men, boys, if things go too far. Believe me when I say, there was a time in my life that if my Mother could have played the age card, she would have. Along with having 5 aces up her sleeve.
Reading some comments about a case of an older male with a much younger female, I was surprised at the number of times people said fourteen year old girls do not know what they are doing and it was all the man's fault.
Fourteen year old girls, or 15-18 year old girls, may not understand the consequences of what they are doing, but they know exactly what they are doing. To think otherwise is a common misconception. If they have watched TV, listened to music, flipped through the pages of a magazine, they know what they are doing.
So, my message for the girls is this: When you take that final look in the mirror, wearing your skin tight jeans and shirt, understand that your body is yours and yours alone. It is not who you are, it is not a weapon of power, it is not something to use carelessly or give away freely. If you are fortunate to live a long life, that body has a 99% chance of changing over the years. If you do not believe this, look at your mother, then ask her for her high school year book. What makes you who you are is the way you think about yourself. Yes, you are surrounded by peer pressure and you may be hearing the pleas of someone you think you are in love with to take that next step. He will not explode if you don't take that step and most likely will not think better of you if you do.
Think good thoughts about yourself and share those good thoughts with others. Keep your chin up in times of hurt feelings, these things will pass. Do not worry about what someone thinks of you, in actuality, they spend much more time thinking about themselves. Be kind to others, but especially to your self. Life is full of awesome adventures, even the ones that do not feel so awesome. These things are there for you to learn lessons, lessons that will help guide you the rest of your life. Remember, what you think to be true at fourteen, will be something you will laugh at when you are 20.
Do not be afraid to ask questions. Believe it or not, parents, grandparents, and most adults in general, have had sex, and, like it or not, are still having sex. If they are uncomfortable talking to you about it, find someone who is not uncomfortable and listen to what they tell you.
Before closing, I want to be clear about something. I am not ranting about the clothes. When I was in high school, our hem lines were so short, even in the dead of winter, that I'm surprised half of us did not die of pneumonia. I am also not placing the blame entirely on the girls. Boys have their own common misconceptions and if some of them were true, most men would have gone through life with their eyes permanently crossed. But girls must remember that no matter how hard you try, boys do not, and never will, think like girls and what boys are thinking about when it comes to sex has nothing to do with love.
Be yourself, and most importantly, be true to yourself.
Monday, December 1, 2014
A Common Misconception
Having music playing in the background while working is something I do not usually do. There is always a song, on a loop feed, that plays endlessly in my head, but recently I have made myself crank up the tunes. It seems to make my work more productive.
I listen to rock/pop music. Whatever is new, whatever most young people listen to. I like it and it gives me an edge for conversation with the much younger generation. It is always a delight to hear, "Grandma! You know that song?"
I have spent most of my life waltzing around with a large "N" of naiveness planted somewhere on my forehead. The big "N" has served me well from time to time, throughout the years. Being able to perfect the naive look has come in very handy when finding myself in a situation I knew I had better get out of.....and get out of quick. But, I have discovered that when the radio station I listen to plays the 'oldies but goodies' or 'rotten forgottens', there are a lot of lyrics that I didn't understand. Sometimes I just inserted a word that I thought was the right one, only to find out a decade later I had been singing it wrong.
When I listen to the music today, I listen very carefully to the words. It amazes me, that after all this time, after all the things we have supposedly learned as a functioning society, much of the music is still sending the same message. That message being, love and sex are the same thing. Many young people fall for this myth and some end up finding out the hard way that this is simply not true.
One of the songs, that is popular right now, has a couple crooning to each other about their love/sex relationship. The male voice sings seductively that he will make her sexual/love experience feel just like the first time. I may be wrong on this, but I'd venture a guess that there are a lot of women that would agree the first time being wonderful is a HUGE common misconception.
Perhaps there is nothing new under the sun. The song "Baby It's Cold Outside" was written in 1944 and if you think he was really concerned about her getting cold, ya might want to listen to the lyrics again.
Yes, it is true, some of us just liked the music and did not pay much attention to the words. Be sure to listen to the music your children are listening to....and be sure to explain the difference.
I listen to rock/pop music. Whatever is new, whatever most young people listen to. I like it and it gives me an edge for conversation with the much younger generation. It is always a delight to hear, "Grandma! You know that song?"
I have spent most of my life waltzing around with a large "N" of naiveness planted somewhere on my forehead. The big "N" has served me well from time to time, throughout the years. Being able to perfect the naive look has come in very handy when finding myself in a situation I knew I had better get out of.....and get out of quick. But, I have discovered that when the radio station I listen to plays the 'oldies but goodies' or 'rotten forgottens', there are a lot of lyrics that I didn't understand. Sometimes I just inserted a word that I thought was the right one, only to find out a decade later I had been singing it wrong.
When I listen to the music today, I listen very carefully to the words. It amazes me, that after all this time, after all the things we have supposedly learned as a functioning society, much of the music is still sending the same message. That message being, love and sex are the same thing. Many young people fall for this myth and some end up finding out the hard way that this is simply not true.
One of the songs, that is popular right now, has a couple crooning to each other about their love/sex relationship. The male voice sings seductively that he will make her sexual/love experience feel just like the first time. I may be wrong on this, but I'd venture a guess that there are a lot of women that would agree the first time being wonderful is a HUGE common misconception.
Perhaps there is nothing new under the sun. The song "Baby It's Cold Outside" was written in 1944 and if you think he was really concerned about her getting cold, ya might want to listen to the lyrics again.
Yes, it is true, some of us just liked the music and did not pay much attention to the words. Be sure to listen to the music your children are listening to....and be sure to explain the difference.
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