And the days dwindle down...

to a precious few.

I don't know where the year went.   Wasn't January a week ago?

I remember when I was young....(mumble, mumble)years ago, my older relatives would say that the older they got the faster time sped by.

I didn't understand, and I waltzed through my teens, twenties and even my thirties as though my life was a ride on a flying carpet.  Every year started with Winter, I didn't mind Winter, except for the cold...and snow.  Spring followed, with pinks, yellows, blues and greens as my world wakened from slumber.  Then came magical Summer, vacations, sunbathing, coffee with a dollop of vanilla ice cream.  Summer eventually, slowly evolved into Autumn and the circle of life started over again with the Winter Solstice.

Then, something happened.  Oh my lord, I turned forty...and I think my world hiccuped, and went slightly a-kilter, because the days began to go by much more quickly.  I found myself saying what my older relatives used to say, to anybody who would listen.  "Isn't time moving faster these days?"

Oh me, oh my.  How could this be?  I decided that maybe if I stopped waltzing and walked instead, I could slow things down.  WELL THAT DIDN'T WORK. 

And every year since, each year speeds by slightly quicker than the one before.  What makes matters worse that by the time I hit fifty, I noticed it wasn't just years that were speeding by, but decades. Crap!  Winter....wizzzz, Spring.....zippppp, Summer....wooooosh, Autumn....Zinggggg. Turns out, even though there are still, and only 24 hours in the day, there are some that simply don't have enough time, tick-tock, tick-tock.  Seriously, where did Saturday go?  Sunday?  Yesterday?

Here's the thing.  I've noticed my children suddenly saying things like, "Where did the time go?" "I can't believe it's December already, where did the year go?"  If time is moving more quickly for them, it's no wonder I'm in a tizzy most of the time, my years must be almost spinning out of control.  I don't even have anything to hang on to, except my wits...so let's hope I don't lose them...yet!

But...

Wasn't January a week ago?

It's here, it's here

Yes, today is the first day of winter, it has been a strange year, weather wise, and I think it is going to end just as strangely.  By now the daily temperatures should fluctuate ten to fifteen degrees, I like that, it's consistent.  I can count on grey skies, a few sun breaks, and rain, lots and lots of rain.  I can also count on (maybe) a week that I have to deal with melting snow. I'm not crazy about that, but I can count on it, I can deal with it.

I enjoy watching the snow add up on the mountain tops, 100 inches there about, I can count on that.  Skiing is very big here in the Pacific Northwest, by now the slopes should be covered in white with all the ski lifts hummmmming, transporting skiers up the mountainside well into the night.

This year...not so much.  The temperatures have been unusually high, and there is very little snow at the moment...the first day of winter...and, we are desperately trying to maintain normal rainfall.  It was not going well...until yesterday, when we finally had substantial rain, and some local flooding.  I believe we were supposed to have a pretty rainy day today as well, but so far, it is just grey and gloomy.

Frankly, all I really want for Christmas is a normal winter.  I want the skiers to have feet of snow to swoosh on, racing rivers to accommodate all the fish returning to the places they were born.  I want the kids to have a few snow days so they can drag their sleds up and then slide down the hills over on the school property.

Yes, although I'm not particularly crazy about the ugly, dirty, days old snow, I do want to stand at my front door and bay window and watch all those lazy, meandering, crazy shaped snow flakes falling onto my front lawn.

Man, I miss normal.  Come on, normal.

Thank you, total strangers

This blog is going out to all the folks who have been buying merchandise from my Zazzle based store.  I don't know how you found me, whether on Facebook, from my flash panel posting here in my blog, or quite by accident through Zazzle.

Regardless of how you found my store, I just want to say thank you, each and every purchase is greatly appreciated and I hope the merchandise was of best quality and you were not disappointed.

You have boosted my moral, and given me the courage to continue producing images I can apply to merchandise that I hope will be to your liking.

Please know, you can reply directly to me here on my blog, if you have any ideas for a particular piece of merchandise you would like me to design specifically for you.  I can certainly work something up for you to look at in my store.  You would never be obligated to buy, but I would certainly try hard to please you.  Check all the blank items Zazzle has to offer (there are hundreds), and if anything 'tickles your fancy', let me know, I will do my best to make something specifically designed for you, either from the images I have already made on an item (for most I can re-size to fit any object) or I will try to create an original image for you.  Again, you will be under no obligation to buy.

In the meantime, thank you so much for your support.  I appreciate every single order, large or small, and I hope you will continue to think about me and my store in the future.

I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, and a fantastic 2015.

GUESWHOORIGINALS.COM

Nummmm, nummmm, nummmmm

A couple of days ago I posted on Facebook that I had purchased some holiday favored coffee creamers (the liquid kind).  The flavors are Dulce de Leche, Mexican Chocolate, Chocolate Chip Cookie and Snickerdoodle.  As I opened each flavor for the first time, I gave it a good shake, then pulled the little plastic stopper ring away, licked it and threw it into the trash. Just a little precursor of what was to come.  Oh, they were ever so tasty.

This morning I opened the last one...Snickerdoodle.   Shake, shake, shake;  I'm singing "It's a Beautiful Day in my Neighborhood".  I pull the stopper away and the smell of fresh baked cookies wafts up my nostrils.  I glance down and there at my side is my constant companion,
the furry one. I'm about to lick the stopper, oh what the heck...I put the stopper close to Zorro's nose, he sniffs, then sniffs again.

What?  He does not like this?  How is that possible? He's like Mikey...who liked everything.  Zorro gives a tentative, gentle lick.  I'm thinking, 'well son of a gun, maybe this stuff has things in it not good for dogs...or (shudder, shudder) people, either'.

I need not have worried, he licked, and licked, and licked and l-i-c-k-e-d.  He l-o-v-e-d this stuff.  I look down at him and say aloud, "See what a good mommy I am to share."  He looks at me, longingly, definitely wanting more. I considered giving him one more lick until I remembered this good stuff was not going to last forever, and is not cheap, so even though I love him very much...I decided I'm not going to share one lick more. Sorry, Zorro.

Okay, I'm not really all that Grinchy, and will share with Frankie, if she behaves herself. "You hear that, Frankie?  You have got to stop being naughty and start being nice.  Frankie, Frankie....you hear me?"

Dang!

"Frankie, you better not be planning something scary!   Frankie!   Frankie????????"

Fa,la, la, la.........la......la, la, la.......la

Boy, oh boy, am I in a mood this morning.

I've got Christmas Carols and Christmas songs going round and round in my brain, I'd like to play some of my CD's this morning but I know they would bring on an avalanche of tears and blubbering, so I'm content with snippets of those musical pieces roaming free across my aging grey matter.

I admit, I've got some favorites...and have for years.  My absolute most favorite is 'I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day', and I guess one of my least favorites is 'The Drummer Boy'.  I know, I know...go ahead, chastise me, whomp me up side the head.  It's just when it first came out and it was played over and over and over and o-v-e-r I started to pull my hair out. I'm also not particularly fond of 'Oh, Tannenbaum' either...I know, I know, I deserve a second whomp, go ahead it will make you feel good.

On the up side, there are many, many more songs I do like compared to those I don't.  For instance 'White Christmas' is close to the top of my favorites, as is 'I'll Be Home for Christmas', 'The Christmas Song', 'The Christmas Waltz', 'Jingle Bells', and even 'I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus'.

But the one that is my most fun is a little ditty, titled 'Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer'. Oh, my gosh, how great would that be?  Cracks me up.  Oh, I want to be that grandma!

According to Wikipedia this song was written by Randy Brooks, and was originally performed by the husband-and-wife duo of Elmo and Patsy Trigg Shropshire in 1979.  And, I'm sure you've heard the song quite a few times, but have you really, REALLY listened to the words, they are hysterical. I love, love, love this song.  And so, for your reading enjoyment, and my giggling pleasure, I present to you the following lyrics.



Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walking home from our house Christmas eve
You can say there's no such thing as Santa
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe

She'd been drinkin' too much egg nog
And we'd begged her not to go
But she'd left her medication
So she stumbled out the door into the snow

When they found her Christmas mornin'
At the scene of the attack
There were hoof prints on her forehead
And incriminatin' Claus marks on her back

Now we're all so proud of Grandpa
He's been takin' this so well
See him in there watchin' football
Drinkin' beer and playin' cards with cousin Belle

It's not Christmas without Grandma
All the family's dressed in black
And we just can't help but wonder
Should we open up her gifts or send them back?

Now the goose is on the table
And the pudding made of pig
And a blue and silver candle
That would just have matched the hair in Grandma's wig

I've warned all my friends and neighbors
Better watch out for yourselves
They should never give a license
To a man who drives a sleigh and plays with elves

Grandma got run over by a reindeer
Walkin' home from our house, Christmas eve
You can say there's no such thing as Santa
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe!

Oh, best grandma, ever...this is the the story I would love my grand kids to tell their friends that I was drinkin' too much eggnog and got run over by a reindeer...what a way to go.  By the way, open and keep the gifts, get rid of the black, wear ugly Christmas sweaters, eat the goose and the pudding, watch football and drink a beer.

Here's to good ole' grandma, who got run over by a reindeer.

Ho, ho, ho,

Oh, it's a beautiful day in my neighborhood.  It's the middle of December, and we should be ankle deep in rain water rushing down the street gutters.  Instead it is an absolutely beautiful day.  What a wonder to behold.

It's six days plus some hours until winter actually begins.  Yaaaaaaahooooooo.  And, ten days plus some hours till Christmas.  Although by this time into December, I'm pretty sick of all the commercials, I'm loving the car commercials this year.  They still have the huge red bows on top of the new ones that (apparently) some folks get as a present. Although, I've personally never known anybody who actually got one, oh, well.

Anyway, this year some commercials have parents trying to explain to their children exactly how Santa got that car into their driveways, indicating it takes a lot of technical wizardry and elfin magic. I think it's kind of cute. But my favorite is of the young man who helps Santa get back to his apartment after a long day of ho, ho, hooo-ing.  First, the man has to maneuver Santa's bag up several flights of steps, depositing it at Santa's door.

Next we see the man working through the night repairing Santa's suit, which again he deposits at Santa's door.  In the morning Santa opens his door and finds his suit ever so neatly repaired, and he lovingly touches the perfect stitching, perfect Santa smile on his face.

The next scene is my absolute favorite.  Young man goes outside in the morning, and there...in his driveway is a brand new car.  He's so surprised he almost slips and falls on his icy sidewalk.  I'm telling you, no matter how many times I see this commercial, it brings a smile to my face.

There's no technical wizardry or elfin magic involved here, this is just a simple case of human kindness, helping of fellowman and unexpected surprise.  Goodness reigns supreme.

I love this time of year.

Perhaps,

you remember I started a list earlier this month to comply with something called A Hundred Days of Happy.

I had a hard time getting started.  I didn't know why it seemed hard at the time, until I realized what my heart wanted to say and what my mind wanted to say were two different things.  My Happy's were supposed to be actual, and what I felt at that particular moment, not what my mind wished I was happy for (like a million dollars).

And so began my strange odyssey to a hundred days of happy.  I was hoping I would not get stuck on some kind of a trend, since I do have certain quirky things that make me happy, and continually choose things (like and for instance) nature related.  Surely I can be more creative than that.  Plus, I didn't want to have to 'think' in advance about what at that particular moment made me happy.

So, my game plan is:

There is no particular time of day I must record my happy.
The entry cannot be rehearsed but as spontaneous as possible.
I will not be embarrassed by my happy, no matter how dumb it might sound once written on paper.
I will not erase any entry once written (even though later in the day a better happy might enter my mind).

I won't always keep you updated as to what my Happy's are, but I will from time to time write a blog about a weeks worth.  Maybe.  Perhaps.  Or, maybe not.  Anyway, here is my first week's (give or take) worth of Happy's.

Bobby
Vanilla Ice Cream
Washed/Dried/Folded/Put Away Laundry
I'm Still Breathing
Space, The Last Frontier
Johnstown Magazine
Christmas Lights
Having Money to Pay Bills
That My Power Did Not Go Out.
Fresh Ripe Tomatoes

How's that for diversity?  I'm happy, happy, happy.

I'm tellin' ya'

the faster I try to shuffle my feet, the slower I seem to move.

Seriously, where I used to be able to decorate my home for Christmas in only a day, this year it took three.  Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

Where I try to keep up with my daily routine, I tend to concentrate on the fun stuff, rather than the mundane, like loading the dishwasher, where my tiny feet really, REALLY shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

I've been trying to figure out if this shuffle is simply the time of year, or if I'm entering a new phase of my life. I think, I'm entering a new phase.  I think we all, in some form or another adjust (sometimes badly) to these different phases.  For instance, I think I did pretty well going from being a teenager to an adult...piece of cake really.

I even adjusted to independent living as an adult, it was exciting and fun, and full of new adventures.

Marriage, was a bit more difficult than I had expected, but I think part of that was because I moved into a 'blended family', and lots of new and different personalities came into my life. Mostly though it was pretty smooth sailing.

The next jump was even more difficult, where some people accept the next phase by going through 'a second childhood', or 'midlife crisis', I suffered in silence, boo, hoo, hooing while locked in the bathroom.  It was not pretty.

Then, bam!  I became a widow.  Holy cow...and as bad as this might sound.  I was back, baby...I was back.  I loved being independent again...it was great.

Now...,,,well, frankly, I'm a bit weary of the independent life.  I'm tired of repairs, tired of mundane, tired of worry about the future, just tired, tired, tired of looking out for myself...I think I'm ready for somebody to look out for me.  Man, that sounds nice, doesn't it?

So, I sense I'm getting ready for a change.  I don't exactly know what that means, or what exactly I expect or intend to do about this.  I just know I'm pretty much done with my life the way it is.  I simply hope I handle it the same way I did when I went from my teenage years into adulthood.

I should be so done.

But, I'm not.

I keep telling myself I should be done trying to make illustrations for Christmas ideas for my store and yesterday I went so far to make my files neat and tidy and ready to put into my holiday file box. But, I keep getting ideas from catalogs that arrive in my mail box, and that's exactly what happened this morning.

There on the middle page of one catalog was a picture of a moose, an adorable moose.  I immediately began to think how I could change the image, but keep the cuteness and drew a sketch.  Somehow the antlers didn't look just right.  Oh, I stewed and I fretted. I sketched and erased, sketched and erased. Dang it.  I could just scream.

Frankie could see I was at the point of erasing a hole right through my sketch pad and in her ever so 'you're such a dumbbell' tone of voice, reminded me I did have a computer 'you know', and there is a very good possibility there are many, many images of moose to be found there.

(Insert several minutes of silence here.)




I hate when she does that.  Dang Frankie.  I should have thought of that.  Goodness knows Google images have solved drawing problems for me for years now.  There are times the forest is so thick with trees I simply cannot see the moose.  What a waste of a good stew and fret.

I tramp off to the office in a not to ladylike fashion.  Dang Frankie.  I type in Images of moose, and up pop images...there they were hundreds of images.  No wonder my moose looked so funny.  The antlers do not point downward, and but out, upward and backward.  Son of a gun.  I study the images very carefully, scrolling down the page.  After a while I think I can draw a darn cute moose.  I realized it's too late to use it as a Christmas drawing, but I think maybe it might be time to think about illustrations for Valentines Day.  Yeah, doggies!  A love sick moose, perfect for a Valentines Day card, that's the ticket!

Oh dear, I'm going to have to go back to Google, do female moose have antlers?

I remember...

Christmases past.

It's funny how childhood memories came flooding over me this morning with regard to Christmas. And I may have even mentioned some of these in past blogs, If these sound familiar, stop reading at any point, I won't be offended.

I'll start with Christmas stockings.  First, we grew up thinking if we were naughty there would be coal in the stocking...and that could indeed happen because we had a furnace that burned coal and the coal pit was always full by mid September when dad would order a ton or so of it.  So, I tried very hard to be good...starting the week before Christmas.

And, we had stockings that were normally filled with apples, oranges and assorted nuts.  My favorite was the Brazil nut.  There would also be a candy cane tucked into the sock that we could eat at our leisure, while the other goodies were returned to the kitchen where anybody could partake of the fruit and nuts...again, my favorite was the Brazil nut.  Sooo, good...hard to crack open...but the meat was wonderful.

Then I remember dad setting up the tree for us to decorate.  When we were very small it sat untrimmed until Christmas Eve, when Santa not only delivered a few gifts, but decorated the tree as well.  As we got older, we would decorate the tree ourselves.  Some of the ornaments were very old even as I was a child, and the same ones re-appeared on the tree year after year.  Dad was very safety conscious, and always anchored the tree to the wall so it would not topple over.  One year, my older sister and I were left alone one afternoon, and we decided we would surprise everyone by having the decorating done when they got home from wherever it was they had gone.

Diligently we worked, and the tree was lovely, we were so pleased with our labors.  We stood back to admire our work, and...the...tree...fell...over.  Fortunately we were able to put the tree upright without damaging any of the ornaments, then gingerly tip-toed around the room so as to not have it topple over again.  When dad got home he anchored it to the wall, finally I understood why he did this every year.

I remember the first time my sister and I went Christmas shopping downtown, taking the bus, by ourselves...Alone.  Oh, what an adventure.  We had just enough money to go to Woolworths, Five and Dime to buy one gift for everybody in the family.  Woolworths was carrying a new product, one I thought my mother would love.  It was a little bottle filled with an oil, with an orange blossom scent that you were supposed to drop onto a light bulb, that when heated up would send orange blossoms throughout the room.  So, I bought one.  Later on the bus ride home my sister and I shared what our gifts were...lo and behold, she had bought mom the exact same gift.  What a giggle we got over that. (Now that I think about it, I don't believe she ever, once, used this orange blossom scented liquid.)

I remember chocolate chip and sugar cookies, pumpkin and apple pies, and chestnuts roasted in the oven, especially the year they exploded.

We always attended the candlelight service at Mount Calvary Lutheran Church.  How beautiful it was, how touching, how sweet the songs.  The pews would be packed with people who came infrequently over the year...those who showed up on Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve and Sunrise Easter Service.  The building rafters would vibrate from the multitude of singers. It made my heart swell.

Oh my, what a joy this has been, this holiday remembering.  I wonder, have I told my children all these memories?  I must, if I have not.

What are your childhood Christmas memories?  I hope you think about sharing them with your children, too.

It's certainly no secret,

there are two days of the year that profoundly affect me.

I'm sure you think those days are probably my birthday and maybe Christmas. Well, surprise.  It is neither of those.

My most favorite is the winter solstice.  That wonderful day when the sun has reached its southern home, packs its bags and begins its slow but steady climb back up, up, up to its northern most point in the sky.  I can easily watch this process every morning when I pull open my drapes, I know exactly where the sun will rise for the next six months by where it creeps over the tree tops every day.  Oh, it brings me such joy.  Robins return, flowers start to bloom, the air warms as does the soil.  It is marvelous, marvelous, marvelous.

Oh, my excitement is growing.  Only two more weeks till that wonderful day.

The second day that profoundly effects my mental stability is the summer solstice.  My least favorite day of the year.  Oh yes, from there on, for the next six months, I watch the western sky every evening and again the trees are my benchmark as the sun slowly slinks to its southern most point.  Oh, it brings on a melancholy of both dread and dismay.  Robins eventually leave, flower blooms become smaller and smaller, the air begins to chill as does the soil.  It is woeful, woeful, woeful. 

However, today I will not dwell on that because I'm giddy, and quite gleeful at the moment because my magical day nears. I wish I had a bottle of Blackberry or Peach Brandy on hand to celebrate the coming winter solstice.  I would toast the sun's bravery for having navigated its way to its southern home (again), and wish it happy traveling as it winds its way back to its northern home (again).

God's speed, dear sun...God's speed.

100 days of happy.

Okay, so I guess I've pretty much been an Ostrich with my head buried in the sand.

Yes, I have a boring routine...my days are pretty much the same.  Then, once in a while I break the routine, and something unusual begins my day.

Today I refused to get up at 5 AM, the way my doggy wanted me to, and spent the next two hours dozing in and out of sleep.  When I finally did get up, I turned on the heat and the living room TV. It was of course on the same channel that it was when I retired last night.

I thought I recognized the voice of the woman talking, but went about feeding my creatures before returning to the living room.  The voice belonged to Queen Latifah.  I was surprised, apparently she has a talk show...who knew?  I certainly didn't.  What the heck.  I had to exercise I might as well watch her show as I do.

She was talking about something called 100 Days of Happy.  Apparently the idea of this is that for 100 days you are supposed to think of one thing every day for 100 days that make you happy, and if you actually accomplish this, it will change your way of thinking about life.  Today she was starting her 100 days, and showed a picture of what made her happy, it was a picture of her taking a nap in her office, head on her desk.  So I surmised her happy for today is sleep/nap.

Well, this project seemed simple enough, and what could it hurt, surely I can come up with 100 things that make me happy.  Starting with Queen Latifah's simple 'happy', I'm going to start simple, too.


Hmmmmm?


Hmmmmm?


Hmmmmm?


???????????

I didn't realize how hard it is to come up with a first happy.  How in the world can I do this for 100 days?

I think I'm over thinking this.

I know!   I know!

My today's happy is Bobby.  I saw him yesterday on my vanity when he walked across it as I was applying my make-up.

Yep, today's happy is Bobby.

99 Happy's to go.

The wind bows down the gorge

So far late fall has been brutal with below normal temperatures and wind...lots of wind blowing down the gorge.  Yesterday the high temperature hovered around 30 degrees, and when the wind blew...well, I didn't even want to go get the mail.  I did, eventually, but I hustled myself back up the driveway holding myself tightly trying to ward off the wind gusts. I didn't even have to give Zorro his 'come' command, he raced after me all by himself.

Back in the house I stood in front of the freestanding fireplace for a couple of minutes to warm up.  I was expecting company and kept the blood flowing by dusting and vacuuming and cleaning bathrooms...company never came...however, house cleaning is never a bad thing whether company is coming or not, and my blood was flowing.

However, I did manage to break one of my lovely long fingernails in the process of dusting, and I had to trim all of them back...bummer...because I was hoping to have nails to 'die for' for the holidays, they would have been beautiful with a couple of coats of bright red polish. Here's the thing, when my nails are long I hold my fingers in a different position while typing from how I hold them when they are short.  As a result this morning I'm having a hard time diverting back to short nail position, I'm making waaaaaaay to many typing errors this morning.  But at the rate my nails grow, it won't be long till they are long and beautiful again...too bad my hands don't match the nails.  They, are never pretty and look like a map of Europe that has bluish rivers meandering hither and yon through the countries. Seriously...the backs of my hands are gross.  Sometimes I throw my arms straight up into the air, just to make them (the rivers) disappear for a few seconds so I can remember how the back of my hands used to look.

Too bad ladies don't wear gloves anymore...I'd have them on all the time especially when I go out in public.  Oh, and those lovely parasols, ladies always carried parasols, with lacy fringes.  Seriously, were they not lovely?  Somehow umbrellas don't have the same demure affect.  Sigh.

What I could use today...this winter...is some muffs.  You know, the ones women tucked their hands into when they walked their village street, and some hats that had tall brims, feathers and bows that tied under their chins.  Sigh, we used to be so classy.  Now, it's sweat suits, hoodies, baseball caps or knitted ones, and cheap, usually easily lost mittens.  But, then again, I guess it doesn't matter what we wear when that wind blows down the gorge..."Ain't no 'mout of clothes can keep out THAT kind of cold."

....hmmmmm, hummmmm, deeee, dummmmm....."Button up your overcoat, when the wind blows free, take good care of yourself, you belong to me.  Eat an apple every day, get to bed by three, take good care of yourself, you belong to me."  Yes, when the wind blows down the gorge, take care of yourselves...you belong to me.

Please don 't construe this blog as complaining about the cold, it's not, it's life here in the Pacific Northwest.  You either love it or you leave it, and it doesn't look like I'm going anywhere anytime soon.

People Watcher,

yep, that's me.  I spend hours watching people.  I don't expect them to do anything spectacular, I simply watch their every day activities.  Wonder where they came from, why they are here, what are they doing and where they are going.

Kids are fun to watch, especially those trapped in the seat of a shopping cart. Some are utterly bored, some try to reach the items their moms have placed there, while others try to grab things off the shelves and dump them into the cart.  Some mothers are wise to their children's shopping habits and load their carts from front to back, that way the kids can't open the cookies, and stray items are easily noticed.

I like to watch women in restrooms.  Some primp and pretty themselves as though they were not happy with themselves when they left the house.  Some can't wait to get out of the place, barely washing their hands, and frequently grabbing a hunk of toilet tissue to dry them, when paper towels are not available and the blow dryers take too long.  Then there are ladies like me, who will actually wipe down the sink and counter top before leaving the room.  Exactly why I do this, I've not a clue. I'm sure Freud could tell me.

This morning, I went to the Times Square cameras, my absolute favorite people watching site, to see what's new.  As you know (or maybe not) a two year remodeling project is winding down, and just last week they opened up a newly finished section.  People once more roamed freely, well within eye shot of one of the cameras.  I was delighted.

Having watched Times Square People for several years now, I learned there is always, always, ALWAYS something new going on along the Bow Tie Blocks, and temporary fencing goes up and down several times a week.  This morning something big was being constructed in front of the red steps, and fencing had blocked off the area.  Mostly I was wondering what the heck was going on, but then...I noticed something interesting about the people I was watching.

They sauntered along the Square, walking, talking on phones or with each other, some sipping something from cups all getting closer and closer to the fencing.  Suddenly, they stopped realizing they could proceed no further.  They stood.  They did absolutely nothing. And that was when I realized something new about people.  They are just like cats that get caught doing something stupid, such as misjudging distance and falling off a window sill. They give you that look..."Hey, I meant to do that."

That's what the people walking Times Square were doing..."Hey, I meant to be here, looking at this fence.  Dah...I'm gonna' turn around now and go the other direction."  This didn't happen just once, but the whole time I was watching.  It was a hoot.  We become such creatures of habit, when something unforeseen and out of the ordinary overtakes us, we cover up the best we can.  "Hey, I meant to do that."

Don't misunderstand, I'm not judging these people, I know I would have been stumped by the fencing, too.  Shoot, as an old person who tends to look down when I walk I probably would have walked right into it...and...knock it over as well.  "Hey, I meant to do that."

I'm just sayin' apparently there will be always something new to learn about humans as we take snap-shots of our daily lives.  So, be careful where you pick your nose or scratch your butt, you never know who's watching...it might be me.  "Hey, I mean to do it."

I'm so confused.

What the heck day is this?

For some reason this Thanksgiving long weekend has me topsy-turvy.  I guess because I've not been keeping my normal....(I can get through my routine blindfolded)...schedule.  For instance, while dragging out all my Christmas decorations I discovered my garage floor was littered with fallen leaves, decaying hops, cat litter and cat fur.  I hate to say it, but it was disgusting, yuck.  I was disgusted with myself I had allowed my garage to come to such a state.  Of course, I dragged out my carpet sweeper and gave the whole thing a 'what for'. This was a time consuming job, and didn't help when it came to my aching muscles.  However, in the end, I was glad the job was done.

Yesterday I decided to set up my little fiber optic Christmas tree in my bay window.  Since it is so small, a few years back I decided to string and tie together its tiny decorations onto one long strand. So far that has worked great...until last evening.  When not in use, I wind the strand around a piece of cardboard and I noticed some of the ornaments had become intertwined, oh, I sensed this was going to be bad.  I gingerly tried to untangle them, but lost patience and gave the cardboard a good shake and the strand of ornaments fell off.  Uh-oh! Sigh!  Not only was it a horrible jumble, the loose end I had started with had disappeared.

Okay, I tell myself, I can fix this.  No big deal.  I was so dispirited with myself I slunk to the sofa, with the realization this was going to take some time, that could be best used elsewhere. Undaunted, I began to undo the mess.  It was awful, since each ornament has intricate angles, as soon as I freed one, I was faced with another twist of the string holding them together.  I worked for an hour, and had accomplished absolutely nothing.  The more I worked, the more frustrated I became, I actually lost patience, and became quite angry with myself and this stupid, stupid strand of ornaments.   No, I was just angry with me.  Then, I did something most peculiar.  I heaved myself off the sofa, and had a conversation with myself that went something like this.

"I am sooo done, why am I wasting my time on this.  This is a hopeless cause, I'm never going to untangle this, should never have strung these things together in the first place, and am not going to waste one more minute trying to salvage this.  A couple of years ago, I'd have had the patience to fix this...but...not this year...not this year."

By now I had reached the kitchen trash bin, I flung open the door, threw the jumble of ornaments into the bin, turned, and walked away.  It was strange walking away...just walking away...I didn't even feel guilt, I did however, feel relief.  I think I disliked that strand of ornaments from the very beginning, and realized the tree would survive quite nicely without it.

And it is.  I finished adorning the tree with garlands, placed a silvery angel on the top, flipped the switch and my lovely little optic tree sprang to life.

Anyway, I think these kinds of incidents helped to cause my confusion as to what day it is.  It will be lovely to get back to normal this afternoon when my tree is up and trimmed.

Well...maybe not...after all, tomorrow is Cyber Monday, and I do have shopping to do.

This is Sunday, right?

Ooooooooooh

What can I say.

Boy I over did it yesterday.  When the heck did I get so dang old?

First, I set about taking down all my autumn/Thanksgiving decorations.  That took longer than I expected, and I probably should have simply vacuumed and dusted when I got done, and called it good for the day.

Did I?  Of course not!

Eager to light up the house with red and green 'sparklies', I began the process of decorating for Christmas.

Last year when it put the Christmas stuff away, I decided it was probably not wise to continue storing it overhead in the garage...ladder climbing was beginning to worry me...so, I juggled things around on shelves to accommodate the decorations that the most I would have to do in the future was stand on my step stool.  Seemed like a good idea.

So, yesterday I dragged my stool to the garage and began to pull down boxes and bags.  I was shocked to find myself being ultra careful watching where I had planted my feet on the stool,
and making sure there was something close by that I could grab if my vertigo just happened to 'kick in'.  Thankfully, it did not.  However, as my decorating frenzy continued, I discovered I was very uncomfortable trying to attach those meant to hang from the ceiling, such as swags, wreaths, etc.

What the heck?????????

I found myself thinking that I just might need one of those bracelets or necklaces you wear that bring aid when you need it.  Surely, I'm not THAT old.  But, maybe I am, because by the time I finally decided I was done for the day, every muscle in my body hurt.  I could tell my mind was willing, but my body was not.  Oh, I quit alright, until about seven o'clock.

I sat, on the sofa, gazing around the room, there was so much more to do.  I couldn't stand it. I dragged my step stool to the closet and pulled more boxes off the shelves and decorating continued.  I don't know what time it was when I quit, but I was finally satisfied I had accomplished all I could for the day.  Man, I was pooped.

Eventually I titter-tottered off to bed.  As I sunk beneath the blankets I realized just how tired and in pain my poor body was, I rolled over on my side and swallowed two good old fashioned pain killing aspirin.  Then, drifted off to sleep.

This morning I'm up, chipper and ready to complete my holiday decorating.  Now, I'd like to tell all of you this is the last year I'm going to do the climbing, dragging, stretching, pulling, pushing, boxing and un-boxing...but I know it's not.  Oh, yes, I'll do it again, and again.  I'm just thankful I got through this year without mishap...I hope.

Thanksgiving

Yesterday, being Thanksgiving, I started my personal pre-holiday traditions.  They started with a call from my brother who always begins the conversation with his traditional gobbbllle, gobbbbllllleee, gobbbbble.  That introduction this year was very unusual, as the gobble was not the one I expected and I confess I was taken just a bit aback.  I was in stitches.  We had a lovely talk.

Then, I went about doing my exercises, followed by a saunter to my movie collection to hunt out my holiday favorites.  I grabbed six, just to get me started, I've several more to watch as December moves along.  Yesterday I watched "We're no Angles", an oldie but goody, (if you you can get your hands on a copy I highly recommend it) that stars Humphrey Bogart, Aldo Ray and Peter Ustinov.  It takes place on Devils Island in the 1890's (or there about's) they are escaped convicts intent on mayhem and murder, and well....I don't want to spoil the plot...you have to watch it for yourselves.

Then I watched About A Boy, a quirk-y British Flick starring Hugh Grant.  He plays a bachelor (of course) who invents an imaginary child in order to join a singles group to meet single women with children.  This should be a smooth sailing adventure, which (of course) it is not because, a 12 year old boy named Marcus enters his life and turns it topsy-turvy.  This is a holiday movie, although the holiday takes place more in the background, it is the cast of characters that make this film so endearing.  I hope you will give it a go some holiday season.

I fixed myself a holiday feast, that I enjoyed later in the afternoon, I had chicken, potatoes, gravy, sweet squash, warm three bean salad, cranberry sauce, pickled beets and eggs, olives...and a beer. Good stuff, good stuff.  For once, I did not overeat...oh...so that's what it feels like...I didn't need a nap.  What a surprise.

Today I will be taking down my Autumn/Thanksgiving decorations in preparation for those of Christmas, and will be watching some more of my holiday 'flicks'.  I think I'll start with Elf, and then maybe another oldie, White Christmas, with Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye. Now there's a feel good song and dance, romance and do a good turn for somebody, sure to warm your toes and cockles of your heart movie.

Man, I love this time of year.

Well, I guess I had better get busy, I hope you all had a fantastic day, yesterday and that if Black Friday shopping is your gig for today, stay safe, take care...I'll be here, thinking about you, but glad to be home getting ready for Christmas. Ho, ho, ho.

How odd!

It is amazing what the slightest change in temperature can do.  After having some peculiarly cold weather this autumn, to awaken this morning and have the temperature read in the fifties, it was....well...odd.

The house was so warm, I didn't even turn my heat on this morning, and when I opened the door to let Zorro out for his first run around his kingdom, I pulled the sliding door full open, pulled the screen across the opening and welcomed the morning air into the house.  How odd. Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and some years it has been so cold we've actually had snow flurries on the holiday.  How odd, indeed, today is mysteriously so spring like.

Not long ago I ventured out to retrieve the mail, which I tucked under my right arm and instead of heading for the front door, I stopped, bent over and pulled out some very dead, previously frozen, summer annuals. Okay, one handful of dead matter is no big deal.  I will drop it into the recycle bin and that will be that.  How odd.  Not only did I pull one handful of summer flowers, I pulled several. Not only was that invigorating, it was down right enjoyable.  By the time I was done the bin was almost half full, the sidewalks had been cleared of leaning over, wilted, blackened plant matter and I was tempted to get out some lawn tools to start hacking and whacking.  How odd.

About this time I decided enough was enough, after all, some of this foliage should be allowed to decompose and become soil enhancement for next springs plantings.  Besides...it is after all November, the last thing on my mind should be yard work.  As a result, I took a quick turn around the back yard, and delighted in seeing the promise of spring, slowly nudging up through the good, brown earth.  I so enjoy natures delicate, intricate surprises...and delight that they are not odd at all.

Time to refresh, replenish, reflect, renew

First of all, I took a few days off from work, daily activities, the Internet, facebook, e-mail and just about everything else. Except of course eating and the essentials of life.  I think I wanted to prove to myself I was not addicted to all the things that occupied my days. Especially the Internet, involving facebook, e-mail, my store, research, and everything else that pleases me when it comes to electronic interaction with my world.

So, for two days I restricted my computer activities for a half an hour, right before I went to bed to check my e-mail and facebook postings.  I've discovered I'm actually capable of surviving without both.  Since my subscription to Lumosity has expired and I cannot afford to renew it for another year, that will be cutting back on computer time as well. Although I've taken up playing the card game Hearts and the rules are slowly coming back.  I'm certainly not good at it at the moment, I think if I had the memory to 'count' the cards I would be much better at the game.

I also (once in a while) visit my farm on the computer game Farmtown, and confess I'm getting kind of  rich playing that, and wish it were real cash in my possession.  However, it is coming to the point I mostly spend my computer time actually 'working'.  Although...I've not a clue why, maybe it's time to move on from that, too.

I think maybe next year might be one of great change.  I feel a strange wind a-blowin'.  I think it's time for moving on.  I confess I get kind of homesick for my hometown, but know I would never be able to stand their winters, although I could get myself quite a home since the housing market is quite different there.  I sometimes think about California, too, but here again, things are not going well there either, what with their water problems, and economic down turn...people, jobs leaving instead of moving there.  And, truth be told I do like the Pacific Northwest, it's been good to me and my family.  Still, I've got this nudging, a pushing if you will, that there is something new out there I've not tried.  I'm eager, excited, scared...I sense a fork in the road...Should I take the one paved, well traveled and safe, or perhaps Robert Frost's 'one less traveled'.  With all the courage I can muster, I want to take the one less traveled...do I possess it?

Over the weekend I watched a BBC series, Lark Rise to Candleford, a period piece about change and challenge, and how it takes courage to accept change and move on with challenge, but that it also takes courage to stand still in the present.  Having the courage to stand still is definitely harder, but it is in the standing still that family history is perpetuated, traditions are formed, relationships are established.  The series has stirred longings in me, possibilities, wondering's and wanderings. What will my future hold.  Only time will tell. Perhaps 2015 will be my year for new adventures, and my last hurrahs.

I feel a strange wind a-blowin'.

I have a personal trainer

His name is Zorro.  Some days, he is very persistent in helping, while some mornings he is content so sit on the couch and watch.

Today was not a 'sitting' morning, so training went something like this.  I'm down of the floor stretched as far out as my flabby body will go, hands way over my head, legs straight, tight, toes extended as far as they would go.  Zorro approaches and sniffs my ear...it tickles...I desperately try not to lose my concentration and count.

Soon I've turned over onto my back, again stretched out, arms and hands way above my head,  Legs straight, muscles tight, toes pointed downward as far as they will go.  Zorro comes up and smells my nose. I give him a couple of quick breathes, which startle him and he dashed out to the morning room.

Next I do my arm extensions, palms up, I stretch one arm over my body and touch it to the inner elbow of the other arm.  Zorro stands over one hand, wanting me to scratch his tummy. I gently push him out of the way.  He moves to the other arm and paws my hand.  I stay firm in my conviction I am not...I AM NOT going to scratch his tummy.

It's time for leg raises, sigh, oh yes, now he is intrigued with my butt area.  Seriously, dog, do you not know that's disgusting.  I immediately move on to a new exercise.  Eventually it is time for my Vertigo exercises designed to alleviate dizziness. I turn my head, up and down, left and right, back and forth I have to say I have to do these with my eyes closed otherwise they make me dizzy; for some reason Zorro does not interfere while I do this.  Maybe because I have my eyes closed. Anyway, It's finally time for cool down and deep, deep breaths. Zorro is behind me, and has a paw on each of my shoulders back to sniffing my ears. I make weird grunting sounds and he's off like a shot back to the morning room.

As I watched him go, I had to giggle, dang he has a cute little butt.  No wonder Sadie has the hots for him. Getting to my feet, it's that moment I realize how much I love that little guy, even though he's a pest and not exactly the best exercise trainer in the world.

Gettin' the spirit

Okay, I'm a sentimental slob all year round.  I snivel at puppies playing, homecomings at airports, chick-flick movies, departures, romantic book endings and...I'm sure you get the picture.

This time of year I normally spend December ankle deep in tears.  Yep, Frankie and I can't control ourselves.  And Christmas music, oh brother, we openly weep.  I  get so choked up I can't even sing along anymore.  When I hear my favorite, I heard the bells on Christmas Day, tears frequently run down my cheeks.

The city has a tradition here, it's called the Singing Christmas Tree.  It is breathtaking to attend this magnificent program.  When the curtain opens and you see that tree for the first time you will be amazed.  It encompasses most of the stage; is eleven rows high, and although I don't know how many singers make up the tree (well over a hundred) they are all bedecked in white robes with red collars. Most of the singers are not professional, but trust me, they all could be, the singing is phenomenal .

Every year the program differs, although each year the first half of the program constitutes the fable of Christmas, with Santa, and sleigh bells, and good will to men. While the second half of the program tells the story of the birth of baby Jesus, and starts with pomp and circumstance as the Three Wise Men, enter and slowly walk down the aisle of the theater and up onto the stage.  (Shoot, I'm getting choked up just writing this.)  Eventually, an angel swings into view and hovers over the scene.  I tell you, it takes one's breath away.

Some years, things go awry.  The first time I went to the Singing Christmas Tree, while it was in the process of turning...it got stuck.  The audience in unison audibly gasped.  There was no panic, but you could tell the stage crew momentarily had no clue what to do.  They closed the curtains, and somebody came on stage and said if anyone wanted to leave they would happily reschedule them for another performance, or if we wanted to stay, asked for our patience while they resolved the problem.  This was obviously not an 'everyday' occurrence.  By the way...I didn't see anybody leave.

Anyway, this particular year a young, local, professional quartet was part of the program, and they came out onto the stage and held an impromptu audience 'Christmas Carol sing along' I was amazed at how many I knew word for word and was actually able to sing along. Eventually the tree hydraulics were fixed and the show progressed.  However,  I have to say...the stuck tree and caroling made the show as far as I was concerned.

I have seen the show several times since (without mishap).  It is an amazing event. None, of course, can compare to the one where something went wrong.  I would encourage anyone living locally, to take a year and attend the Singing Christmas Tree, especially if you have children. You should see their faces, not only do they light up at the sight of Santa, but when that angel swings into view their faces are filled with awe, wonder and delight.

Oooh, I'm getting that squishy, ooey, gooey, mushy feeling...it must be time to get out all my Christmas music, it's time Frankie and I start to make teary puddles around the house.

Scary

Earlier this year I had a bad dream, it woke me up, breathing hard.  I remember in the morning I tried to recall the dream but could not.  I only know it scared me, and I thought to myself, if this dream ever comes to an end, am I going to die?  Yes, I actually did think that, and I think that about the dream I have where I'm desperately trying to get home, too.  I can get close to home, but something always interferes and I wake up. I know...that's nuts. I wonder if other old people ever think the same thing about their bad dreams?

Anyway, last night I had a repeat of the bad dream I had earlier this year.  As it progressed, in my dream, I realized this dream was not going to end well, and my subconscious told me (in the dream), 'remember this dream, remember this dream'.

The dream moved on, to the exact spot as the first, and I woke up, breathing hard.  I was remembering the dream, I was pretty sure I didn't want to, I didn't like it.  Eventually I became dozy and sleep returned.

This morning, my first conscious thought was the dream, and I tried...oh, I tried hard to remember it. It's gone, I can't remember a single second of the dream, only that I had wanted to remember it and that it was bad, scary, and I'm left with the horror that if the dream even ends...I'm gonna' die.

Boy, I bet Freud would have a field day with this.

Sigh.

Figgy Pudding

A week or so ago, my next door neighbor brought me some 'sort of' ripe figs.  I like fresh figs.  They are very tasty and extremely good for you.  They've tons of seeds about the size of grit you find on some sand papers, and I even like the feel of them as I munch.  Problem is, most years the growing season is not long enough for my neighbors figs to ripen.  The rains come, and the shorter days prevent them from maturing the way they do in warmer climes.

Anyway, she gave me quite a few, and I know I should have had patience and hoped they would ripen, when a familiar Christmas Tune went through my head.

"Now bring us some figgy pudding,
And bring some out here."

Hmmm?  So I says to myself, "I wonder if there is a recipe for Figgy Pudding?

Several years back I sent for a newly published reproduction of "The Original FANNIE 
FARMER 1896 Cook Book (The Boston Cooking School) and I figured if any cook book would have a recipe for Figgy Pudding, it would be the Fanny  Farmer book.  Flipping to page 338, there it was.  Of course it called for things not in my modern day pantry (like 1/3 cup beef suet, and a cup of stale bread) but I refused to be deterred.  As a result I substituted a stick of margarine for the suet, and instant oatmeal for the stale bread.

I chopped up the figs, and followed the rest of the instructions to the letter.  I watched the whole thing slowly boil up, soon the ingredients blended together, and took on the look of pudding.  Oh, I'm sure the stale bread would have given it a smoother looking finish, but it was a pudding none the less. And, it was good, still warm from the pot, sprinkled with sugar, and just a tad of milk.

I filled two single serving containers with the leftovers and put them in the freezer for a treat some future winter evening.  And, I sure am glad I have learned I don't have to wait for figs to ripen in order to enjoy them.

I think figs are a misunderstood fruit, I don't personally know anybody, (besides myself and my neighbor) who eat them raw, nor do I know anybody who actually eats Fig Newtons, they (in my opinion) are too dry, and difficult to swallow without a tall glass of milk.  Anyway, I don't suppose my Figgy Pudding is ever going to catch on as a holiday treat, though I'm thoroughly enjoying mine.  So instead I will bring...

...good tidings to you and your kin,
good tidings for Christmas and a Happy New Year.

Normal

According to my copy of Roget's SUPER Thesaurus NORMAL is:

standard, usual, typical, conventional, universal, traditional, regular, customary, accepted, average.

Funny how we take normal for granted. I've been bippity, boppity-ing through the year picking my nose and scratching my butt smiling like delightful Dopey from the story Snow White.  Not a care in the world, waking up, doing my job, humming a song and enjoying life.

Then, the world got a gigantic 'hick-up' and spit out a cold spell.  Well, damn!!!!!!!

All of a sudden I was hustling my scratched butt all around the place draining hoses, covering park benches, bringing in patio furniture, insulating outdoor faucets and bringing in my precious salmon colored geraniums.  What I expected was a couple of nights the temperature would get down to the freezing mark and we would have a killing frost.  That, dear friends is normal!

Is that what I got?  Nooooooo!

Now I know this is going to sound like a lot of complaining.           Okay, it is.

I did not expect an Arctic Blast, and that it would last for a week.  My poor little house was not built Arctic Blasts...it's barely built for killing frost!  So, when the cold came and kept coming, the beams and boards began to creak and moan.  My natural gas free standing stoves sputter, cough and wheeze trying to blanket the rooms in warmth, the baseboard heaters try to keep up.  In the meantime, I'm bundled up in thermals, T-shirts, sweats, fall colored crocheted vest, and two pairs of socks, shuffling through the house like an overstuffed turkey.  I'm sleeping with a dog, four rice filled socks heated in my microwave, and cuddle with a stuffed bear in my arms.

Are you getting the picture?  I hope so, because it's funny, shoot....I can't stop laughing. I'm going to write some songs and a script, I think I've got the makings of a Broadway Play.  It will be about an old woman who hates the cold, moves to Florida for a good warm 'rest' of her life, but, gets swept out to sea on a hurricane never to be seen again.  It ends as her loved ones stand on the beach throwing flowers into the water while loudly singing..."She did it her way", in Frank Sinatra style.  Good bye old woman.

But, maybe I can put that on hold for a while, 'cause my edjkated metrolgist tells me this morning the weather is changing, temperatures are going to rise, and rain is going to start falling tomorrow.

Come on, normal!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pickled Brussels Sprouts

As you all know, I mistakenly do stuff.  Sometimes it turns out awful, sometimes it turns out better that expected.  Sometimes I do things by accident, sometimes I actually think things through.

So, a couple of months ago when I ordered wwwwwaaaaayyyy to many Brussels Sprouts (normally I hand pick eight or so) I accidentally ordered some from Safeway, and when the order arrived I received a little over a pound of the litter buggers.  Oh, I cooked up a few of them for dinner, but what in the world was I going to do with the rest of the pound.

I didn't want to waste them, but once I've had my craving satisfied I knew I would never be cooking up and eating the rest any time soon.  What to do, what to do? Hmmm, I thought, you can pickle cabbage,I wonder...can I pickle Brussels Sprouts? I go to the Internet, type in Pickled Brussels Sprouts and lo...there were at least a dozen recipes.  I chose one that didn't seem to difficult, mixed up the vinegar pickling recipe, washed the sprouts, cut them in half, and plopped them into the pickling solution.

The recipe said they should 'pickle for awhile', and I figured a few days would do the trick...it didn't, when I tried them they simply tasted like Brussels Sprouts.  I kept the concoction steeping in the refrigerator. Over time other food products began to push the Sprouts container to the back of the shelf.  Truth be told I forgot about the Sprouts altogether until a couple of weeks ago.  As the shelf the container was on emptied, I saw the winter green Sprouts swimming around in the pickling solution.

Hmmmm???????

Hmmmm!!!!!!!!!

Dare I try one?

Curiosity got the better of me, and I gingerly removed the plastic lid.  Not knowing what to expect I confess I held my breath...this...could be gross.  It kind of smelled like homemade Bread and Butter Pickles, with just a hint of Brussels Sprouts.  What the heck, it didn't smell like it would make me ill, or kill me.  So I popped one in my mouth.

>

>

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Well, wha' do ya know!  It was good.  Nicely pickled, refrigerator cool and crispy, crunchy.  Needless to say, I devoured several.  I've been having them as a side ever since.  This morning, I had to down size the container they were in, and I realized the delightful treat was coming to an end.  I will be unhappy when I serve up the remainder later this week.

Will I do this again?  Probably, but it will surely be by accident, when I absentmindedly order another pound of them.

In the meantime, I hope I remember to tell you some day about Figgy Pudding.

Well, son of a gun

Yesterday's blog was about the cold, wind, sleet, snow and freezing rain.  And, how I was fascinated that the snow and freezing rain was still hanging around in the areas the sun had not reached.

I was hoping I might find the same phenomenon this morning...and I did.  I was a very happy camper. I went around the house standing at every window inspecting for ice.  I've discovered the shrubs and trees have very little ice remaining, not so much from the temperature because even this morning with wind chill, it is in the low 20's; but because of evaporation.  There is very little humidity, so the moisture is quickly drying up the ice and snow.  I suspect, with a warmer temperature (which is supposed to come) my 'bit of magic' will be gone tomorrow.

So, I want to report another bit of cold weather related trivia.  We humans as sooo,
unpredictable.  The first day the TV reporters were outdoors reporting on the bad weather...I think Wednesday, we were told the schools would remain open, and that some would be operating two hours late.  Some parents were up in arms, inquiring if the weather was going to be that bad...shouldn't the schools be closed for the children's safety?  Maybe so.

Then, the next day, most schools were closed...guess what?  Some parents were again up in arms, this time because the schools had been closed.  Were we not aware the weather was 'not that bad' and shouldn't the schools be more accommodating, surely the students would be safe.

What???????????

It wasn't like overnight the icy roads and snowy side streets had magically become free of said ice and snow.  How was it possible the ice and snow was so harmful one day, and not the next.  Sigh.

Poor school districts.

Also, I'm curious about the drivers who are out there on those dangerous roads, slipping and sliding into ditches and other vehicles.  The same TV reporters who report school closures and late openings, also tell drivers "stay home" yet drivers do not listen.  As a result we see them on the news, talking with reports with grins on their faces, apparently proud they've wrecked their car and some other's as well.   Really, 'splain' that to me.

Anyway, it appears we are going to get back to normal soon, the temperatures are slowly rising, and by Wednesday we will be back to 'good ole' rain.  I for one can hardly wait.

It's a most unusual week.

I so enjoy the unusual.  For instance, it has been more cold here this week than a normal November. We've had chilly, blustery winds coming down the gorge, sleet, freezing rain, and some areas had inches and inches of snow.

Oh, and power outages...but that's negative...so we won't go there.

Mostly, I've been watching the freezing rain, that covered my neighborhood. Yesterday was particularly entertaining.  It was gloriously sunny, and all the trees and shrubs sparkled like diamonds as the breeze gently blew them about.  When the sun rose above my visual tree line, the shrubs and trees began to warm up and tiny icicles began to form.  I was drawn to every window, and I watched the ice begin to disappear.  The street dried, but the ice remained on my mailbox a shimmering ice rink.  Then as the afternoon progressed every tree and shrub the sun reached, it melted their frozen branches.

I was intrigued, as the sun progressed across the sky and shade took over the sunny spots.  The melting stopped, and the trees and shrubs took on a look I'd never seen before.  Parts of them had melted, the branches standing straight and tall again, while lower, hidden branches remained bent over and frozen.

The air temperature hovered around freezing all day, and as darkness approached, my neighbors roofs looked like patchwork quilts, partly ice/frost covered, partly bare and dry.  I wondered what the morning would hold.

To my delight, this morning when I pulled open the drapes, it was as though time had stood still. Roofs were still a patchwork, lawns were partly ice covered, and some branches still struggle to rid themselves of their icy blankets.  It's been amazing!

The temperature today is going to reach a high of....maybe 40 or 41 degrees, so it will be interesting to see if all the ice and frost disappear today.  I'm hoping it does not, I would so enjoy pulling the drapes tomorrow morning and seeing patchwork quilt rooftops.

Ain't that a fine how-do-you-do.

Well so much for sunshine and periwinkle blue sky.  Wow...what a difference a day makes. Yesterday was a transition day, the power went out a couple of times, and I made the decision I was not going to reset my clocks until the weather decided exactly what it was going to do.  Frankie was not pleased with my decision and I told her if she wanted to spend her day running all around the house fixing the clocks that was fine with me.

She went off and pouted...she still is.  Tough noogies, toots.  I've got three battery operated clocks, and the time is on my cell phone (I recharged it yesterday) and as far as I'm concerned they are good enough.  Yes, when the power goes out I might have to use a flashlight to see the clock face, but the time is there and that's all that matters.  Sometimes, old-fashioned time telling is the best.

My neighbor called me this morning to see how I was doing, and she is the one who told me that my lawn was not just wet, it also had a thin layer of ice.  Well, damn, that's going to make it hard to go out to get the mail...but then again...maybe I won't even be getting mail today.  The Post Office no longer follows their long standing creed that the mail will be delivered no matter how inclement the weather is.

And, as for Zorro...he is hating today, he steps outside, and makes an immediate U turn and races back indoors. Silly dog, eventually he is going to have to go out to do his 'duty'.  Hopefully it will be before his bladder explodes.  Hmmm, maybe if I go out with him and add some encouragement he'll do his deed.

Life is such a hoot.  A truck has been changing (upgrading I guess) all the streetlights in the neighborhood...I've been watching, nosy old person that I am.  I think that's sooo funny, considering how the power has been going on and off, on  and off.  What good is the new fixture going to be if there is no power to illuminate it.  Baaaaaa, haaaaaa, haaaaaa, haaaaaa.  I've heard about these new fixtures, they are supposed to be more environmental friendly, directing the light where it is most needed, and allowing us to see the night sky much better.  I've also heard there are even newer fixtures coming that will only come on when a car's headlights activate them.

This reminded me of my daughter's (long ago)car that had a lop-sided headlight that actually turn 'off' the streetlights as her car went down or up a street.  Now...that's funny.

Anyway, my fingers are super cold, and I'm going to go fix myself something hot to drink.  Then, I'm going to wrap up in a blanket and wait for the power to go out. Baaaaaaaa, haaaaaaa, haaaaaaa.

The leaves of brown are tumbling down.

An old song comes to mind this morning.  I believe it is from the Broadway Play, Oklahoma.  It starts out, "Oh what a beautiful morning, oh what a beautiful day.....I've got a beautiful feeling, everything's going my way."

You should see my morning!!!!!!!  You should see my day!!!!!!!!  You should feel my feeling!!!!!!!

Everything might not be going my way, but three our of four is not bad...not bad at all.

I mean, I've no words to aptly describe how magnificent it is here today.  The sky is periwinkle blue and there is not even a wisp of a cloud floating by.  Well, it definitely would not be 'floating' by, it would be 'whizzing' by because we've got an East Wind a'blowin' like you would not believe.

While sitting here in my office occasionally a leaf will twirl and swirl to the ground, gracefully and graciously giving in to the inevitable.  Then...suddenly, a gust of wind causes the trees in my neighborhood to bend and sway, and a wave of brown and yellow leaves come into view from the roof and gutter of my house.  They gleefully, excitedly race each other to the ground.

I have to say, I'm having a dang good time.  I'm not getting a lot of work done, but it is such a gorgeous day, I don't really care.

I've heard it's going to be cold this week, too.  Those edjakated metrolgists are excitedly reporting there are going to be strong winds, and thanks to the Arctic Blast, the temperature are going to range from the high 30's with wind chills making the temperatures feel more like the 20's.  Obviously my beautiful mornings and days are going to be deceiving.  Brrrrrr.

Happily, I can report I got all my outside chores done.  I drained the last of the hoses and covered the outside faucets yesterday, and brought in my geraniums on Sunday...sore wrist and all.  Oh, truth be told there is still some pruning to do, but I think I'm going to wait a couple of weeks, with the hope my gardener just might do that.  If not, by then all the leaves will be gone, and it will be easy to lop off the bare branches.

Meantime, I'm going to enjoy this magnificent weather, bundle up when I trek to the mailbox, and drink spicy tea, and strong black coffee as Zorro, CC and I snuggle under a homemade afghan.

Life is good people, life is sooo good.

This one is for my grand, great-grand children

EVERYTHING YOU WANT TO BE IS ALREADY INSIDE YOU.

It is YOU who will hold yourself back from becoming what you want to be.

Whether you achieve greatness in the field of your choice, YOU are responsible for reaching that goal.

Not going to college does not mean you cannot reach your goal, as the old adage states, "pull yourself up by your bootstraps" do what you have to do to get the job done. There is no shame in OTJ training.

Do you have to get your hands dirty?  I don't care, many great men and women have done exactly that.

Do you have to work, two or three jobs for some period of time?  So be it.  Just ask any doctor and/or his/her partner in life, that is not an easy road.

Do you have to spend years paying off student loans?  Well, joint the club, you are not alone and you are in darn good company.

Do you want to be famous?  Ask any entertainer how many years they had to sip ketchup soup and munch ketchup sandwiches, there are often years of disappointment before 'discovery' and fame.

There will always be setbacks, apprehensions and misgivings about your choices. Just remember the 'stock' from which you came; it is strong and sturdy, there is nothing you cannot accomplish.  It all depends on how hard YOU want to work for it.

Now, please understand, I don't expect Nobel Prize winners...although that is well within YOUR grasp. I simply want you to achieve whatever goal it is YOU have in mind for yourselves.  Doctor, Lawyer, Housewife, Mother, Father, Teacher, Judge, Manager, Truck Driver, Construction Worker. The label does not matter.  What does, is what you do 'with' the label...the best you can.

A doctor can open a small town practice, a mother can raise up a child of honor, a construction worker can start his own company, a manager can open her own boutique, everything is within your reach.

Just remember, I will be always be proud of each of your achievements, and that...

EVERYTHING YOU WANT TO BE IS ALREADY INSIDE YOU.

Start where you are

With what you have,

Make something of it.

Never be satisfied.

I got to thinking...

yesterday about Jesus living here on earth as a man.

I know he was a carpenter by trade.  I wondered, being who he was, did he already know all the skills it took to be a carpenter?  Or, was his mind a clean slate when he was born a mortal, did he have to learn from scratch, just like we have to learn new things?

How old was he when he first held a tool?  Did the touch of metal in his hand feel cool?  When Joseph explained what it was, and how to use it, as a child was he curious turning it upside down, over and around, fingering its points and angles? What kind of questions did he ask?

When he smoothed a piece of wood, and the tiny bits of dust fell away from it, did he blow the dust away?  Did he take his hand and rub the wood exploring the intricate pattern of the grain?

Was his first attempt at making a stool or bench perfect, or did it wobble just a bit?

Did he ever get a splinter?  And, did he ever hit his thumb with a hammer?

We know he did become a skilled tradesman helping to support his family, the Bible tells us that. What exactly did he build?  Did his father have a shop?  Did he make furniture, or help to build homes and business establishments?   Did Jesus help to teach his brothers to become carpenters, too?

I know this is all rhetorical, at the moment...but oh the questions I want to ask when I have that golden opportunity.

I want to talk to Jonah, Noah, Esther, Ruth and all the other folks I've been learning about this year. There is so much I want to know.

Oh, and God...what about that Duckbill Platypus, and Giraffe, did you have leftover parts, or are they truly part of your grand design?  

I hope this blog has not offended anyone, that was not my intention, after all it is only and after all, The Ramblings of an Old Woman.

Whew, we made it.

Yes, today is election day and we will finally be done with all those boring election commercials.

I'm tire of the 'mud slinging'.

I'm tired of the 'measures'.

I'm tired of the phone calls.

I'm tired of the brochures in my mail box.

We have got to come up with a less expensive, much, much, much shorter way to run elections.  For the last month I have been 'muting' said commercials, or purposely choosing to watch cable channels that do not have said commercials.

I heard a little girl on television being interviewed about what she had learned in school about the elections and the candidates.  She said (at least 3 times) she learned 'they lie'.  I thought it was pretty irresponsible that a teacher would teach that to his/her students.  Frankly, I don't want to believe any teacher would use those words to describe candidates.  I switched channels without watching the rest of that interview.

Here's what I think.  First, I believe any candidate starting out running for office has the very best intentions, and that they believe they can truly change a system that has become jaded over the last two hundred years.  I admire their ambition, wanting to do the right thing by their constituents.  They make promises they can't possibly keep simply because of the way the system works.  They are not 'lying', they truly believe they can single handed do what they promised.  Solution, don't make promises!  Simply say you will do the best you can, that your door will always be open, your phone line available, and you will listen, listen, listen to what your constituents want, and to listen their ideas on how their problems might be solved.

We will not be able to undo two hundred years of  corruption in a short period of time, it will probably take two hundred years to do that.  However, it takes only one candidate to start that process.  Do your best, and listen, listen, listen.

Here's what I think.  If you are planning to run for office.  Clean out your closet.  Tell all those dark, dusty secrets.  Did you have an abortion?  Have you cheated on your wife?  Are you gay?  Have you filed misleading income tax reports?  Have you been in jail?  Are you a bigot?  Are you an abuser? Do/did you have a problem with drugs or alcohol?  No matter how ugly...lay it out there.  If you ask for forgiveness, a lot of people will forgive you...you might not get elected, but trust me, you will sleep better at night and become a better person for your confession.

If your 'secret' does not disqualify you from doing the job for which you are running and you simply say you will do the best you can to full fill the duties of your office, that your door will always be open, your phone line available, and you will listen, listen, listen to what your constituents want, and to their ideas on how their problems might be solved.  Chances are you will get elected, possibly for more than one term of office.

In the end, all we want is a hard worker in office, somebody who feels our pain, and understands we are simply trying to survive.  Somebody who does not forget  who got them their new job.

It's funny, (peculiar)...

Yes, try as I might, I still can't type.  As you all know typing has never been my strong suit, and having an injured wrist is not helping.  Oh, don't get me wrong the Ace Bandage is helping a great deal in the healing process as is the pain cream and hot compresses, still typing takes tremendous effort.  I have been trying to use the hunt and peck system, and I have to say I don't know how people do it, that system takes me forever.  I have to look at the keyboard, look up at the monitor, up and down, up and down.  Geeze.

So, this morning I'm using both hands and looking only at the monitor.  I'm not sure how long my wrist will last.  As a result, this will probably be a short blog.  Yes, I know, I probably should have had my wrist checked by a professional, and maybe even had an x-ray done.  I probably would have been told to purchase a wrist brace and wear it for the duration.  Maybe I'd have been given as prescription for a pain killer of some sort.  Still, I have to ask myself, would my wrist be healing any quicker. Probably not.

I've often reported here Things They Never Tell You, about getting old and here is one more.  It takes a long time to recover from an accident...no matter how small. Truth is, we move slower, can concentrate on one thing at a time only, and must at all time be watchful about what we are doing, where we are going, and how we are going to get the job done.  Otherwise, some dumb stunt is going to get us into trouble.

I've learned to look down while walking, even though the medical community tells me I should continue to look up and out.  Really?  Listen you young whipper snapper...nothing will make a twig, curb, edge of step jump up and grab your ankle than looking up and out.  They loooooovvvveeeee to make an old folk stumble and fall.  

I've learned to turn on lights...before I get out of bed, enter a room, attempt to walk out of doors at night.

I've learned how easily an accident can happen...You know how the commercials say one in three old person will fall every year.  When mine happens I go "Whew, that takes care of me for this year...thank goodness I didn't break anything.".

I've learned to be cautious taking flights of steps, both up and down...to avoid escalators, and take elevators when steps seem to dangerous to attempt.

I've learned it's time to start collecting brochures for Senior Citizen complexes.  I'm hopeful, I might find one I can afford.  Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not in panic mode, nor do I feel I'm losing it.  But, I do think it would be nice for somebody to fix my meals, have transportation at the ready for doctor visits and social outings.  I want a staff to look after me, and a nurse on duty, I want an exercise room and daily activities.  If  I choose the right one I can start out in independent living and it will take me all the way to my final days.  Not a bad deal, when I think about it.  It takes the pressure of me and my family as well.

 

I've also learned no matter how rich or poor we all feel pain, cry salty tears, and muddle through life's muddy puddles.

I've learned, life is not a bowl of cherries, ants can't move a rubber tree plant, and there are not always silver linings, or a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.  But I've also learned life is good, where there is a will, there is a way, and to always take the road less traveled because you never know what's just around the bend.

Up, down, one, two, three, four...

...and so it has been going...for almost two months.

Yes, I made a deal with my doctor, I could not start work every day, until I exercised for at least 20 minutes.  Sure I thought..THAT'S going to work.  I figured I would placate her and said something like "Sure, you call me every morning, and yes, I will exercise."  We both had a good laugh over that. Then, I jokingly said, well at least write me a note that says I have to exercise before I can go to work.  She said,  "Yes, I CAN do that...and, she did."

Okay, I decided would give it a shot, I would give it a try for a couple of weeks.  If it worked, great...if not...well, two weeks (in my opinion) was giving this a 'good college try'.  I printed out her note and taped it to the bottom of my computer monitor.  It reads.

"Zazzle is your reward time each day AFTER you had done your exercise.  Have fun!!

So, I started exercising.  The first day I over did it, I exercised for 20 minutes.  The next day I had pain in muscles I had forgotten I had, and I had not used for years.  So, I cut back to a 10 minute program I still hurt, but the note on my monitor was like a nudge from my shoulder angel and I decided to try ten minutes the next day. too.

To my surprise, my muscles seemed to enjoy the workout, and I increased my time to 15 minutes. The days flew by and before I knew it my two week trial was over.  I considered quitting, after all I had accomplished my "good old college try".

That morning when I went to work, I saw the note from my doctor, I felt proud of myself and I realized her note was exactly the incentive I needed to spend time exercising.  Before I knew it I was exercising 25 then 30 minutes every day.  I began to feel guilty for even thinking about taking a day off.  At the end of the first month I'd missed only two days.

I sent my doctor an e-mail telling her of my progress, and I presented her with a deal, IF I was still exercising at the end of six months, she was going to have to buy something from my Zazzle store. To my delight and surprise, she agreed to the deal.

On November 8th, I will have completed my second month.  As of this morning I've only missed four days of exercise.  Oh, there are days I want to skip, even quit my exercise program.  Then, I think about that note from my doctor taped to my computer monitor.  I know she would be disappointed if I quit.  And, I know my shoulder angel would be very disappointed in me too.  I would be disappointed in me.

So, every morning I get up, feed my furry creatures, turn on the TV and begin...up, down, one, two, three, four....

Thanks, Doc.

Leaf lady

I will leave no leaf un-turned.  Yes, I'm obsessed with autumn leaves.  I can't help myself, and of late I've been driving Frankie crazy.  Every time I got outside, whether to retrieve the mail, or to simply enjoy a few minutes of fresh air I come back inside with a hand full of colorful leaves.  All shapes, all sizes. I don't want to collect the leaves, I am compelled to do so.

Some years I'm worse than others, if, one year the leaves happen to be more magnificent in hues of red, yellow, orange, even a dozen shades of brown my books are soon bulging with leaves pressed within their pages and kept there for years until they disintegrate and turn to dust.  I can't help myself.

This year the leaves have been a bit of  a disappointment.  Most of the trees leaves have not turned color yet, and after the weekend rain and wind storm a lot of the trees are pretty bare without have the opportunity for the leaves to turn at all.

Still, unable to help myself, each time I go out I scour the lawn, driveway and walks for colorful leaves.  I stop, bend over and flip the ones upside down over, and often add it to the collection I already have in my hand. Yesterday was no exception.  I came into the house with yellow and red maples, they were tiny, the largest perhaps three inches in length but perfect in shape and color.

I spread them out on a paper towel on the kitchen counter so they would dry.

Frankie:  "Are you kidding me?  More leaves?  You're nuts, you know that don't you?"
Me:  "...and, your point is?"
Frankie:  "You don't need these, you don't know what you're going to do with them, and eventually they will fall out of a book and you will throw them away."
Me: (Sad and dejected) "I know."

(Insert moment of silence.)

Me:  "Still, just look at them Frankie, look at the colors, even Crayola Crayons can't make these colors, artists can't blend their oils to these exact colors, my computer can't make these colors.  Oh, we can come close, but these colors are perfection.  Absolute perfection."

I gently wiped the rain off each delicate leaf. One was bright yellow with a brown tip, another was bright red, with a tear along on side, I took tape to hold it together. Another was yellow but had three circles in it, they were green with brown around their edges.  How did that happen?  Some kind of genetic abnormality I suspect.  Still it was rare and unique.  I was fascinated.  I wanted Frankie to be fascinated, too.

She, of course appeased me, by pretending to be interested, (at least she didn't walk away).  I left her standing at the kitchen counter and went back outside to stand up a plant stand the wind had knocked over.  While I trekked back to the house I picked up small branches from a maple and willow tree the wind had deposited in my back yard.

Frankie was still standing at the counter, she had the spotted leaf in her hand.  She looked like a kid that had been caught stealing a cookie from a cabinet.  She sputtered and tried to regain composure.

Frankie:  "WHAT?  More leaves...you know what, old woman, you are nuts."
Me: (Sighing.)  "I know, it's an illness."
Frankie:  "What are your plans for the branches?"
Me:  "I'm going to draw them.  What are you plans for the leaf in your hand?"
Frankie:  "Nothing, I'm just looking..."

Yes, there she was, just looking...that's how it starts...this illness...I was just looking, too.

Checking in.

Wrist feeling a bit better today.  Still can't do two handed typing, but working on it.  I have a new respect for those in constant pain whether from illness, accident, or age.  God bless you all.

OUCH

Still in  pain, but hopeful.  Hang in, I'll be back.

Ouch

Tried to type a blog today, just can't re-hurt wrist yesterday...just can't type without serious pain. Maybe tomorrow.  Hang in there.

Stir and mix, mix and stir.

This was a cooking weekend.  I started with a vegetable soup, and moved on to another soup called Leathery Britches, this recipe coming from an old country cookbook.

Leathery Britches is a concoction of green beans (pioneer women dried them in the sun, giving them a 'leathery' look) potatoes, onions and salt pork or bacon.  However, I don't have to dry the beans, because my neighbor gave me a handful of fresh ones on Friday.  Is makes a wonderful hardy soup.  I added a handful of barley, just because I happen to like barley in my soups.

After cooking the Leathery Britches, I moved on to a package of cheesy bagels that I sliced in half and smeared spaghetti sauce across their open faces.  Then  I added onion, sliced black olives, and tomatoes making mini pizzas, that I baked in the oven for about 20 minutes. Then I topped these off with some cheddar cheese slices and returned the bagel pizzas to the oven till the cheese melted.

It turned out I had about half a can of spaghetti sauce left and I dumped that into a sauce pan, added a bit of water, threw in some shell pasta and cooked it till the pasta softened, finishing this dish by melting some cheese slices in it.  Don't judge me...this was an unexpected throw together kind of leftover thing....waste not, want not, right?

Finally, I lined up all my individual sized meal containers and started dumping.  Man, I'm not going to have to cook for a week, and have containers to put into the freezer as well.  Come to think of it, writing about all this food is making me hungry, I might have to go eat.

Aside from having a lot of good meals prepared, I have to let you know I did NOT hurt my wrist this time while packaging up the food.  I was very, VERY careful.  I'm still wearing an ace bandage from my last encounter with a heavy pot.  Oh, and speaking of bandages, you know how when you are wrapping them around your hand and wrist the beginning end is hard to keep in place?  I discovered a way to keep it from loosening.  I simply cut a hole in one end of the bandage and put my thumb through the hole...this keeps the bandage in place like you wouldn't believe.  How come I never thought of that before?  Better late than ever I suppose.

That pretty much sums up my cookin' weekend.  And, now I'm going to go eat.  What to eat first, hmmm pizza sounds good.

Remember?

Remember the day I wrote that I thought it is better to get flowers while we're alive, instead of at a memorial service or funeral?

You remember?

Yesterday I got flowers......

I'm beside myself with glee.

Thanks, Lorraine....Love you.

Summer eating

It's been a great summer for growing...vegetables...and fruits.

My neighbors have vegetables gardens and fruit trees growing in their yards.  Boy, are Frankie and I lucky.  Mostly all I have to do is wait for the produce to ripen.  Frequently they bring their bounty right to my front and/or back doors.  It is so wonderful to see a bag full of apples, pears or zucchini squash on my front stoop, or a bowl of berries, plums, tomatoes, peppers, cabbage and other fresh vegetables on my back patio.  I'm so grateful and appreciative.

I'm even allowed to walk right up to my neighbor's vegetable garden and help myself. Frankie and I frequently do that.  And, this year we've discovered how delicious broccoli greens and kale are chopped up as a replacement for lettuce in sandwiches...and they are much better for us. We particularly like that kale has kind of a 'peppery' flavor.  I mean to tell you we have been eating (as the old saying goes) "high off the hog".

Yesterday afternoon, my neighbor brought me a lovely head of red cabbage and some green beans. She informed me the tomatoes are no longer ripening, but that I can help myself to all the green ones I want.  Boy, oh boy. Come on fried green tomatoes with onions.  Yum, yum. Also, I'm going to fix a pan of fried red cabbage, something I've not prepared for quite some time, and I'm not sure Frankie has ever had.

I'm contemplating what to do with the last of all this bounty, but I think since the weather has become more chilly and damp a good hardy vegetable soup might be in order.  Yep, that's the ticket, homemade vegetable soup.

Me: (Shouting) "Frankie!"
Frankie: (Shouting back) "Yo?"
Me: (Still shouting) "Pull out the crock pot!"

High off the hog:

The Phase Finder states this means to be affluent and luxuriously.  Also, it is the best cuts of the meat on a pig.  Although the phrase has been around since at least the 1800's, it did not appear in print until the 20th Century here in America.

The Free Dictionary states: Idiom, slang, In a lavish or extravagant manner..."...lived high on the hog after getting his inheritance.

The Urban Dictionary states:  Living life to the fullest extent.

Keeping the grey matter moving

Sometimes I have to wonder just exactly what I've got going on in the area between my right and left ear.  I swear sometimes I can hear the wind blowing around in there.  Often I think it must be filled with mush, or maybe leftover oatmeal.  I watch the commercials for that famous company that tells me they can teach me a foreign language in weeks and I will be able to speak like a native in that particular country.  Yeah, right.

Earlier this year I thought about taking an on-line class about poetry, and before long subtle ads began appearing along the right hand side of my facebook page encouraging me to do exactly that. Then, I showed an interest in an on-line class called 'Art for Beginners', that touted I would be able to draw just about anything, as though I'd been an artist all my life. Again, ads appeared at various websites reminding me I had been interested in art.

Now, don't get me wrong, I understand I'm under a microscope anytime I'm on-line, and I know big brother is always watching.  And, I appreciate these folks want to help me keep my grey matter moving.  I just wish they were willing to pay my tuition to attend all these classes.

Here's what I think.  There ought to be some kind of tuition, scholarship program specifically for old people, where rich people would adopt one of us 'old folk' and pay for these online college courses to help us keep our grey matter moving.  Hey, couldn't it be a tax deduction for them, and wouldn't that make us their 'dependent' (another tax break)?

We would have the satisfaction of being able to learn something new, and they would have the satisfaction of giving an old person the opportunity to continue to be an independent thinking, mentally agile, senior citizen.

The on-line classes I take cost about a hundred bucks for a 10 lesson, 6 week, 20 hour class. Let's say, our benefactor set up a scholarship of 500 dollars year.  That would take us (me) through the year, with a couple weeks break between each class.  Wouldn't that be wonderful? Oh, the classes I could take.  Oh, the people, classmates, professors, I could meet. Oh, how my horizon would expand.

Okay, so this is a pipe dream, and I know this will never happen.  Reality is I've got to be the one to keep my own grey matter moving.  Thankfully, most of my days I am aware there is actually 'stuff' moving around in the area between my ears.  For instance, this morning, I don't hear any breezes, and the innards seem a little more solid than mush or leftover oatmeal.  Maybe I'll drag out my unfinished French work book and see where that leads.