Oh boy, here I go again

I have frequently written about lots of things that have come to pass in my lifetime, and I'm grateful for every single one of them.  Like space travel for instance.  However, this morning I found I was contemplating things that have happened in the past,  way...way...in the past.  And, how I wish I could have been there to see how they came into being.

For instance, I've seen loads and loads of pictures of how history has recorded the building of the Pyramids.  It's fascinating.  I wonder exactly how it was done.  It supposedly took thousands and thousands of workers toiling in horrible heat, enduring insects, little water, and tons and tons of blood, sweat and tears.  But, who in the world cut all those stones, and where did they come from.  Would not that job alone taken hundreds of years working with only primitive tools like chisels and hammers.  Frankly, I just don't get it.  And, I've seen pictures of how they moved all those rocks, rolling them over large round logs.  Seriously, did they roll them all the way from where the rocks were cut and shaped to where the pyramids were built?  How long would that have taken?  The Pharaohs were not that long on the planet...how the heck did they accomplish building not just one....but several...of these huge objects.  I tell ya, I simply don't get it.

Consider the Appian Way.  What an engineering marvel that was.  There was road that stretched over 200 miles, more than 20 feet wide in some places and slightly convex for water run off.  Who thought to do that?  Did he/she get some kind of award for that?  They certainly should have.  They didn't have earth movers, back hoes, or huge diesel powered trucks to haul those rocks down the road as they went, I suppose they used horses and wagons instead.  What about the laborers?  Did they hire men as they went, or did they have permanent workers.  And, how many of those men stood around leaning on shovels?  Somehow I doubt there were any of those.  I suspect the working conditions were much better for those who built the Appian Way compared to the Pyramids, still it was hard, hot, unappreciated labor.  Were they paid laborers, or criminals and slaves? 

Let's move on to Medieval Times, and all those castles and magnificent cathedrals.  I've a book with pop up pages of the workings of a castle.  What a marvel.  Although by modern engineering means, castles and cathedrals are quite primitive, they were also very complex.  And...very, very well constructed.  They've withstood centuries of inclement weather, natural disasters, and wars.  We can walk their halls and beautiful rooms, and I wonder about the people who inhabited these structures.  Did they ever imagine about the future?  Oh, a few minds did perhaps, the dreamers, Galileo, Newton,  and Columbus for example.  Could they possibly have known how important the roll they played would be for us today?  I think not.

Then, moving on to Infant America.  I've been to Boston, and walked the Freedom Trail and although a few of the original builds are there and are being preserved, modern Boston over powers it.  I've been to the replica of the Plimoth Plantation, where the Pilgrims settled, it's a marvel to see.  I've walked the deck of the Mayflower, or at least the likeness of her.  There are other cities, too, that have preservation areas of early America.  Philadelphia.  Williamsburg.  But I have to wonder, will they be around for as long as the Pyramids, the Appian Way, Medieval castles and cathedrals?  I sincerely hope they will so that in the Land of Far, Far Away some other Rambling Old Woman will be saying, "Oh boy, here I go again."

Guess what day it is?

Okay, okay, today, I'm not confused, I know it is March 30th.  I know it's Sunday.  I know one of my grandsons is having a birthday today.  Happy birthday grandson.

Here's the thing.  This morning I was watching the news  (I don't know why I subject myself to that madness every day) and I saw a bunch of round, pink, cylinder things in a heap on my TV screen, and I says to myself "self, what are those?".  I knew I should recognize them, are they some kind of candy?  My interest was piqued and I began to listen to what the reporter was saying. 

He's explaining that in 1858 a man named Hymen Lipman designed the first pencil with an eraser on the top.  I'm fascinated.  I'm told Mr. Lipman even applied for and got a patent for his new invention, but that he eventually lost it because he had neither invented the eraser or the pencil.  However, by that time, folks were so enthralled with his 'invention' it became a staple in homes, offices, schools and...well...actually just about everywhere.  His spiel ended by telling me today is a special day to honor the humble pencil.

Yes, today is indeed National Pencil Day, and it is a well deserved honor.  For if it were not for this humble writing and correction making instrument, many a great novel, poem, play or sheet of music might never have been written.  So, today I hereby show my respect and heap compliments upon the Number Two Pencil.  Applause, applause.

In addition to being a top notch medium for writing, people have found various other uses for the pencil as well, all worthy for honor today.  It makes a good tap-pity, tap, tapper when keeping time to music.  It's a good chew toy when contemplating the 'meaning of life'.  It can be a head-scratcher, a frustration 'snapper', and sometimes even a book mark.  It should get an award for versatility.

Of course, on the down side, you always have to 'look for one' at the exact moment you need one, and when you do, the tip has surely been broken, or the eraser has been chewed off.  It either needs to be sharpened, or is so short it can no longer reach the grinding part of the sharpener.  (Remember when we had to sharpen a pencil by  'whittling' it with a pocket knife.)  Still, we cannot live with out it.  Way to go pencil.

But, while researching who 'invented' this simple yellow stick, I also learned today is quite a bit more.  Are you ready?

It's The Grass is Always Browner on the Other Side Day. (I wish.)
It's Doctor's Day.  (Should I have sent flowers?)
It's I Am in Control Day. (Baaa, haaa, haaa.)
A walk in the Park Day.  (As long as it's not raining.)
And, last but not least, it's Turkey Neck Soup Day.  (My soup was gone w-a-a-a-y back in January, if I had known, I'd have waited.)

There you have it folks, my dissertation has come to a close, "Happy National Pencil Day to all, and to all a good night."

Oh, the wonders of a sky

I confess, I enjoy a Spring day like today.  When I awoke, it was wet and grey.  The morning news told me it had rained quite a bit over night.  I didn't hear it, and when I had to put Zorro out at 2:30 AM it was not raining at the time, and the temperature was on the cool side, but not December cold.  I even allowed my pup to roam the yard for a few moments.

After I fed the animals in the morning, I went straight to work and didn't think much about the weather, I don't think I even looked out the office window much.  However, about 10:30 when I finally took a break, and as I stood in front of the microwave reheating my morning coffee I glanced out one of the morning room sky
lights.  It took my breath away.  And reminded me how much I truly enjoy living in the Pacific Northwest. 

The sky was filled with creamy, cotton candy clouds, and they meandered slowly, ever so gently pushed along on a March breeze.  Soft, periwinkle patches winked between the clouds, ever changing the appearance of sky canvas.  What is it about this kind of sky that can bring my blood pressure down, and my breathing slow? 

Then, I discovered another spring marvel.  The trees have budded so I can see their delicate chartreuse in contrast to the puffy clouds and the silken sky.  Oh, it is such a miraculous sight to behold.

As the day has been progressing the sky continues to put on quite a show.  Sometimes it clouds up, and we have a brief shower, then the cotton candy clouds reappear, followed by a sky that's bright, bright, almost iridescent peacock feather blue.  I tell you, it's been quite the day, my sky a kaleidoscope of ever changing shapes and colors.

It's now approaching midafternoon, and already the sky is donning the subtle hues that eventually lead to twilight.  I love a day like today so full of hope for the wonderful season of new born spring and full of promise for a summer of hot days, warm nights, croaking frogs and buzzing bees. 

I can hardly wait to not only smell but walk among the roses.  But, don't move to fast, my dear, sweet, world, I want to savor what tomorrow's sky has to offer, and all the  skies that all the tomorrows, have to offer.

Green Thumb

Years ago I roaming through The Bishop's Close with friends and we passed a small potting shed.  On the shelf sat several pots filled with various startings from some of the trees and shrubs that grow in this lovely, serene garden.  A dirty 'Mason Jar" sat next to the potted plants.  Each sickly looking 'start' had a plastic stick in the soil with the name of the plant and how much it cost.  They were cheap. 

The little 'nursery' was based on the honor system, if you took a plant you were expected to put the money for it into the jar.  I bought a couple of plants.  (Of course I always do.)

Most died within the first year.  (They always do.)

However, one struggled to survive, and year after year, I babied it along for two reasons.  First, I admired its will to live, and second it was an Indigo plant.  I had never seen an Indigo, and knew absolutely nothing about it.  Since I had such a bond with this particular plant I was determined it would and should live.  There was a lot of fertilizing and transplanting over the years and though it never has been a healthy plant it finally began to flower every year.  I was thrilled.  Eventually it got to be taller than I was, but it remained spindly, sickly and never really attractive, I simply had to do something to help this plant. 

I decided it was time to do some research.  So, last summer I drug out my gardening books and pamphlets and sat down to study.  The first thing I learned was Indigo is not a tree (which I've been trying to make it become), but a shrub. WELL NO WONDER THE POOR THING HAS BEEN CONFUSED ALL THESE YEARS.  It has been using all its energy trying to be something it isn't. 

At the moment the tree/shrub was in the middle of blooming season, so I thought it best not to shock it into suddenly becoming the shrub it was meant to be.  As a result, I allowed it to go through autumn and winter in the condition it was.  Then, this spring, I decided to try to make it a shrub.  I cut it back and shaped it up.  I learned in advance not to cut it back by more than a third and I was very careful not to do that.

So, day after day I make a trip to the patio looking at my Indigo Shrub hoping to see signs of buds forming.  There have been none...not a single one...I'm so depressed.   Sigh.  After all this time and tender loving care I fear I've finally killed it.  Sigh.

I think I'll keep it around for yet a little while, perhaps it's just a slow grower.  Or, maybe I'll have to come to terms it had a good life, but now it's time to move on.

Sigh.

Scary things

Now I confess a lot of things scare me, for a brief second (like an unexplained loud noise I don't recognize), or sometimes a bit longer (like an electrical storm) and I suppose if I came across a Kodiak Bear along a wooded trail I would be frightened out of my wits.  Same for a lion or a tiger, oh,my!

However, I don't have a problem a lot of things, like needles, or blood, or even dentists.  But going to a doctor scares me briefly, because of the unknown elements involved.  For instance, is she going to find I have at terminal illness or deliver other unpleasant news.  My blood pressure soars.

Bumps in the night, are always unsettling, but are also brief, as are earthquakes, which I have to admit make me breathe more quickly and run for a doorway.  Here again, an earthquake is of short duration and when I realize my pets and I have survived and my house is still standing I quickly return to being normal.  Whatever the heck normal is.

However, there are things that scare me all the time.  Seriously, all I have to do is think about them, I get goose bumps, and the hair stands up at the nape of my neck. 
Take snakes for instance, (thanks, Eve) they are sneaky, slithery, bobby-wavy, things that are suddenly 'just there'.  And, when they are discovered, they don't honk a horn, or speak up loudly.  Noooo, rather, with great haste, they escape doing that wiggle, waggle movement, as though I am responsible for disturbing them.  How dare they? While they pay no mind that I've jumped out of my skin, and got several new grey hairs on the top of my head.

Truth be told, they not only scare me, I dislike them tremendously.  Again, I have to blame Eve.  If she had only behaved herself, women would probably be having babies totally pain free.  Think about that one, Ladies.

Then there are Praying Mantises.  Man, those creatures scare me out of my wits.  They are perhaps (to me) the most creepy looking creature around.  They move in s-l-o-w motion, and their bodies have weird joints so that when they use their front legs like human hands and arms I want to run into a closet and hide.  And, those 'bug-out" eyes, I've no words.  But when they cock their heads, I know those eyes are seeking me out...well, let's face it, if they were twenty feet tall, they would snap me like a twig, and eat every single bit of me and have no remorse, either.  They are
SC---AR---Y !!!! 

Yeah, yeah, I know snakes have a job to do and so do the Praying Mantises', well goody, goody for them.  I could live the whole, rest, of my life quite nicely if I never saw either of these creatures again.  Thankfully, the mantis is not a common sight here, and the snakes are becoming fewer and fewer as the neighborhood grows and the wooded areas have become smaller and smaller over time.  Still I know, they're out there...waiting, skulking, eager to shout Boooooooooo, as I turn over a leaf, or lift up a piece of rotted wood.  Oh yes, I know you're there.  Man, I'm wigging myself out here.

Of course, There are other things I'm scared of, too.  And, no doubt you'll find out about them some time in the future, as it seems I have to share.  Now, take horses, for instance..........

What the heck?

So, there I was in the morning twilight, making my way to the kitchen.  I don't even have my glasses on yet.  You know how it is, your creatures are hungry, and they want fed NOW.  I turn on the heat as I go. 

As I turn the corner and head for the kitchen I notice a brown 'thing' on my granite kitchen counter.  Suddenly time slows down and I have the opportunity to ask myself all sorts of questions.

What the heck is that?

Where did it come from?

How did it get there?

From a distance it looks like a slug.  Same size, same color.  Yes, I had worked in the yard, but as far as I knew I had not drug the slug in on my clothes, although perhaps, it had come in on my shoe and I simply didn't notice.  Oh, dag nab it.

Back to the questions.

What should I do?

Should I wrap it in a paper towel or tissue and squish it?

Should I go to the garage and get my trowel, scoop it up and take it back outside?

I find I've stopped dead in my tracks, as though this 'thing' would swallow me up like some kind of jungle cat.  Mostly I've stopped, because I hate slug slime, especially when it gets on any part of my body.  And, I certainly didn't want to excite it and have it secrete slime all the way across, my kitchen counter.

Carefully, quietly, I approach.  I decide I'll give it a gentle push with my index fingernail.  Maybe that will get it to 'shrink up', the way slugs and snails tend to do.

To my surprise, my nail simply slides across the counter.  There is nothing there at all except a brown streak that is a natural part of that particular granite tile.  Well, color me stupid. 

Time goes back to normal speed, but now I've another question.  I've had this granite counter top for several years now, how come I've never noticed that particular brown blob on it before?  Seriously!

In an attempt to save my ridiculous stupidity I've decided to come up with a lame excuse.

I didn't have my glasses on.  Are you going to buy that?

War of the Apples

During winter, the old, gnarled, naked crab apple tree gave the appearance it should be shot and put out of its misery; but once spring arrived, it became a thing of beauty.  It sprang to life with lime green leaves, and tiny white, pink tinged blossoms...thousands of them.  Bees did their pollination trick, easily lured by the blossoms sweet and sugary scent and soon the branches hung full of hard, round, emerald green, marble sized apples.

Since the tree was centrally located, in what would someday be a public right of way, we children claimed it as our own.  By mid June we were inspecting the green ‘bullets’ every day, occasionally taking a bite, although eating them was not the reason for our thorough investigation.

One morning, the tree would whisper: ”it’s time”, and like magnets to a refrigerator door, we neighborhood kids were drawn to it.  Plucking the apples and collecting them into piles.  When we were happy with our personal arsenal, we would divide up into armies, and the war would begin.

Back and forth the bullet flew.  Whack, a bruise on the arm.  Twang, a hit at the back of the head.  So it went until all the apples were gone, and our bare skin showed red welts and felt stinging sensations where the apples had made contact.

There can be no doubt; “The War of the Apples” was an annual fun-filled event.  Then, one year, it happened.

The stage was set.

Apples plucked, piles at the ready…’let the war begin’.

Enter:  Corky.

Corky was a black and white bulldog.  His lower teeth hung out, up and over his upper lip, and he looked quite ferocious.  In reality, he was a sweetheart, and he loved to participate in our activity as well.  He would leap, catch the apples mid-flight, give a chomp, and then spit them out.

Poor Corky.  Mid-battle, one of the apples struck him (no one knew who had flung the missile, or exactly where Corky got hit) but, down he went like a pile of bricks and laid lifeless on the battle field.  Truce was called; slowly we circled around, staring in silence at the still, furry heap.

Enter:  Dickey Stevenson.

“You killed my Corky!”  he wailed in ear shattering screeches.  “You killed my Corky!”

We knew we were in trouble...very  huge trouble.

Although we tried to get Dickey to shut up, he would have none of it.  His wails grew louder, his little heart breaking.  With his small, sweaty, dirt covered hands, he tried to lift his precious dog into his arms.

Someone murmured; “Run and get Dickey’s mom.”

Enter:  Mrs. Stevenson.

Dickey’s mom was a registered nurse.  When she arrived on the scene she held a small bottle in her hand.  She bent over and waved the open bottle under Corky’s nose.  He gave a grunt,  he wasn’t dead.  We hadn’t killed him.  I, for one, was more thankful for this miracle than I had ever been for anything in my young life.

Enter:  Mothers.

Ah, yes, mothers appeared as if by magic at the edges of the battlefield.  We all stood in silence, prisoners of war, and a captured army.  Mothers in turn took the opportunity to tell us how dangerous our game was.  “Didn’t we know we could put somebody’s eye out?”  “What were we thinking?”  “You are never doing this again.  Do you understand?”  On and on it went.  Who knew so many mothers could say the same thing, only different.

Now, there are some hard lessons we must learn in life, those that leave lasting impressions, and each year as the tree faithfully passed through the seasons, it was a constant reminder of such a lesson...kind of like, never throw a hot potato at your mother...ahhh, but that is a whole other story.

 

 

Am I blue, you'd be too.

Just when I get discouraged, my horoscope or good old I-Ching comes through with a great reading, today I'm reminded it takes time to achieve a goal.

Today it was my horoscope that had some good advise.  "You don't have the luxury of focusing on failure. Let go of the past and start looking toward the successes ahead. Although it may take some time to feel as if you're gaining ground, don't lose faith if you really want to reach your destination." 

I can't tell you how much those words encouraged me to stay the course.  There are times I realize just how futile it is to continue trying to make some kind of a good solid gain to my Zazzle store.  Truly, I want to just give up.  This week has been especially difficult with that regard.  I'm constantly making more merchandise.  I'm constantly trying to make my store easier to maneuver through. I just wish Zazzle would.

That's why I keep trying to encourage folks not to go to the Zazzle site, but to my store front on their site.  Honest it's easy, there's a link to it right here on my blog that should take you there.  And, yes I know the merchandise is a bit pricey, but it is all well made (I know because I've bought several items for myself, because I didn't want to be affiliated with a company that had inferior products), and on the plus side,  Zazzle frequently has very good discounts on all their products.  I encourage you to buy then.

My store has nine departments.  Each department has sub-departments.  I'm working very hard to make the sub-departments user friendly, although at the moment they are kind of under construction.

In the meantime, I continually have merchandise 'in progress', so you never know when something is going to appear in my store.  Let's face it, the time I spend being creative is a pure joy. And, most of the time I'm upbeat and enthusiastic someday people will come across Gues Who, and say "Wow, this Rambling Old Woman does have a bit of talent here, I think I'll buy that mug."

Well, so much for wishful thinking. Am I blue?  Yeah.  But, my horoscope today has inspired me to stay the course.  I guess even if nobody never, ever buys anything, at least I'm staying out of trouble. 

That's a good thing, right?

Reflecting

Yesterday is history, today is still a  mystery and what a lovely day there'll be tomorrow.

Tomorrow is just your yesterday's, today.

If we could put time in a bottle, there's nothing we couldn't do.

Time heals all wounds.

Today I'm as old as I've ever been.

Like time through the hour glass, these are the days of our lives.

Tick, tock.  Tick, tock.

Let's start over.

Make every second count for something.

Always.

Never.

There's still time.

Maybe next time.

It's too late.


....and up on the hill is a cemetery, never let it be too late.

Temptations

Over the years I've been tempted by advertisements of all kinds.  Big and small. 

Remember those knives you never had to sharpen?

Or, the slice, dice machines that guaranteed you would never have to cry again slicing onions?

How about the blankets with sleeves?

Oh, yes, I've been tempted, but I've never bought any of them.

Although, years and years ago, I did by a month's supply of diet pills that told me I didn't even have to get up off the couch, while the fat simply melted away.  Boy, was that a jip. 

However, there have been a few 'big ticket' items that occasionally lure me with their siren call.

For instance.  The ads for 'instant shade', an awning that rolls down in a snap of your fingers and will reduce the summer heat in your house by 20 degrees.  Oh, that would be so lovely.  It's amazing the amount of heat comes off the concrete slab outside my patio door.  I would maybe to use it for a week over the summer, and for the rest of the year it would remain rolled up under the eave of my house.  Cost to actual use...pretty much outrageous.

Then, there's those gutters that guarantee I will never have to clean them out again.  Here's the thing.  What happens, when the moss grows in there over a couple of years, and fills the gutter, won't the rain water simply overflow?  Seriously, what is it they say, "If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is?"  So, even though they promise me a 'holiday special' (free installation) and a $200.00 bank gift card, I simply can't bring myself to purchase these gutters.

Oh, and those walk-in tubs.  I've got a real problem with those, I don't care how many comforting, massaging jets they have I still can't bring myself to purchase one.  Now, they've even added a 'heated seat', which in my opinion was long overdue, simply because, first you have to sit in there while the tub fills up, and second you have to stay in there till the water drains out.  That's a pretty chilly thing for an old person to endure, having to sit there shivering, naked as a jaybird.  You can't even wrap yourself in a towel till the water gets below seat level.  Still I guess they are a very popular item, and I suppose quite 'old folk' helpful, still...that water fill and drain thing has turned me against walk-in tubs.

However, there are a couple of items I think I would buy if the time comes that I would need them.  One is that wonderful cane that will stand alone, and never fall over.  What a wonderful idea.  I have seen now they've added goodies, including a pouch to put it in when you fold it up while you are dining out, or at the theater.  And, it has a built in flashlight, for walking at night. Fantastic!  Also, who wouldn't love one of those marvelous battery operated riding scooters that will take you over any terrain.  Are they great, or what?  Perfect for us 'old folk'  who's legs tend to give out or those who are not too good on their feet anymore.

And finally, an item that has me sitting on the fence...well, a seat, as I ride up or down the steps.  Actually I don't need one of these, as the most steps I have anywhere are two, so I'm pretty sure a seat is not practical at all.  I confess I don't know a great deal about this item, but I've heard they have safety features, for instance, I believe they will stop mid-steps if an object gets in the way.  Picture this, I ride up to go to my room.  While I'm there, grandchild places toys on the steps.  Does that mean I have to stand at the top and yell till someone comes to remove the toys?  Or, do I ride the seat down to the blockage, and yell from there.  Or, do I ride down as far as I can, and walk the rest of the way?  Oh, the ponderings. 

I've heard they will work even through a power outage, but I'm not sure I would want to be on one in the dark, it has no 'seatbelt', and the 'what ifs' could be staggering.  I could get dizzy and fall out of it.  It could stop unexpectedly.  I could be living alone and be stuck for quite some time.  I'm simply not sure they are a good idea. 

Frankly, I'm glad I still have my wits about me, can you imagine all the stuff I could be buying.  Diet programs, exercise equipment, wrinkle creams, make-up, music, DVD's, coffee makers, slow cookers, fast cookers...my kids would put me away.  And, I'd need that. 

"What?"

"I'm coming."

I'm going to go now, Cindy Crawford is calling me.

I'm not and you can't make me.

Yes, it's THAT day of the year.  I absolutely refuse to join the madness and be Irish  today.  That's just nuts.

Yesterday, I don't recall what franchise advertised, a green pizza.  It looked horrible.  Seriously, it looked as though a cow had thrown up its lunch.  I posted that on Facebook, but either nobody saw it, or they simply figured it was one of my rants and ignored it.

Well, buddy.  That's okay with me.  I just can't understand the rhyme or reason behind this silly holiday.  Oh, I know, there are other silly holidays, too. And I tend to ignore them as well.  For instance Valentine's Day is equally ridiculous, as is
Mother's Day.  Actually Mother's Day is the absolute worst.  So many mothers get their feelings hurt on that day, when uncaring children and husbands forget to send a card, or give them a call.  They never get breakfast in bed, or taken to lunch to even so much as a fast food place.  Flowers, really??? And presents.....HA!  Now there's a good joke.

But I digress.  This is about St. Patrick's Day.  The day you're supposed to wear green, and if you don't you get pinched.  It's the day of silly parades, and green beer, and pub fights, and bad behavior.  Seriously, I was just visiting times square, many people wearing green, they're bouncing, jumping, and bounding around like...like...like a leprechaun who just had his pot of gold stolen.  There are horns and whistles being blown for no apparent reason what so ever, and shouting, so much shouting, what the heck is that all about?

Chicago turns it river green.

People drink green beer.

And, apparently eat green pizza.  Yuck.

There's corned beef, cabbage and boiled potatoes.  Well....actually....that's not too bad.

But, I think...honestly...this is simply a day for people to get together and drink themselves to oblivion.  And, not have to feel guilty about it.  After all, they are Irish for a day.  Oh, that sounds bad, like I dislike the Irish and I think they are all drunkards.  I can assure you that is not the case.  I just dislike they try to make ME Irish and I don't care that it's just for one day.  I'M NOT IRISH, go away and leave me alone. 

So, go toot your horns, and drink your beer, have an all round good time.  Just remember, tomorrow it won't be me with a whopping big hangover.  Oh, and may the luck of the Irish be with ya.

PB&O

You probably don't remember, but last month I wrote about a new sandwich I tried, and as crazy as it might sound it was pretty good. 

The ingredients consisted of peanut butter, jelly and....onion.  Yes, you read that right, onion.  I was very apprehensive as I was preparing this concoction, but was bound and determined not to let this strange combination deter me.  To my surprise and delight this sandwich was not too bad.

And, I promptly wrote here on my blog that I thought the jelly didn't contribute to the sandwich and next time I would leave the jelly out of the equation.  I've yet to try this, but do intend to in the future.  However, next time I intend to add bacon as an additional ingredient.  (Who does not love bacon, and does it not always make any food taste better.)

So, after mentioning to one of my daughters what I had eaten, she laughed and said if I made a T-shirt for my Zazzle store about my PB&O, she would not only buy one, she would wear it.  The gauntlet had been thrown!

It has taken several weeks, and much editing between the two of us, but finally we  came up with an illustration that satisfied both of us.

I spoke to her yesterday and told her the T-shirt was available for sale.  It's time for her to 'put her money where her mouth is', and buy the shirt.  I also told her I was working on a follow up T-shirt, same image, only bacon had been added to the picture.  I'll try to remember to post that picture here in my blog sometime in the future.

Actually, I can hardly wait to try this sandwich, without the jelly and with the bacon,  I suspect it is going to be quite tasty...who knows, maybe with the bacon, the sweet of jelly might be just the thing to meld with the savory of the other ingredients.  Strawberry jam comes to mind.

We shall see, we shall see.

(Now, here's the thing, while we were researching for the 'just right' illustration for the onions, my daughter came across an illustration of an actual peanut butter and onion sandwich.  So, though I thought this was something some writer wrote for a long ago sit-com to get a good laugh.  It appears to be an actual luncheon delicacy???  Or, perhaps somebody, like myself simply did a cut and paste until they got an illustration that pleased them.  Who knows.)

Then again, who knows indeed.  Maybe Gues Who Originals just might re-establish the peanut butter and onion sandwich as a lunchtime staple.  Maybe we are ahead of our time.

Where'd I leave my shovel?

Funny, isn't it how our emotions swing like a pendulum from day to day?  Early in the week I was a mess and had to confess to my bad behavior.  Then, yesterday I grew pensive, and asked a whole bunch of questions of 'what and when'.

Today is a whole other story.  My horoscope told me things could go bad quickly and I should be on guard, while my I-Ching reminds me I could have a liaison, but to be careful, because often they do not turn out well.  Hmmm, are these two insights connected?

On Facebook I commented that perhaps somebody should tie me to a chair today.  Frankie....FRANKIE...where are you?

Anyway, there's a kind of stomach churning excitement living on the edge.  It's only nine o'clock in the morning...I've a whole day have things wrong....'er right.  Oh my...what could possibly go wrong?

What could possibly go wrong?  Frankly, it boggles my mind...sooooo much could happen. 

Giggle, giggle, giggle.

Giggle,

giggle.

Maybe the man of my dreams will finally come to my door and I'll mistake him for a burglar or something, and throw a pan of hot water on him...even worse, maybe it will be the guy from Publisher Clearing House, with my million dollar check, and I don't even go to the door.  Well!  THAT would certainly be wrong, wrong, wrong.

Then, for quite a while I've been hoping I would be chosen to be a contestant on that remodeling show and have my house "made over" in a week.  Today it would be just my luck he shows up at my door, but he has the wrong address, he's here for the house next door.  Damn it.

Oh, I'm so conflicted, on one hand I would welcome unexpected excitement, even the upheaval of what ever the heck might happen today, while on the other hand I'm thinking it might be more practical to dig myself a good sized hole, jump in and pull the dirt in and over me. 

Okay, if you don't hear from me, you will know I chose the hole.

Ponderings

What would you do, if you could get mad, (angry) in the 'good old way' Donald Duck used to be allowed?

What Disney character would you be?

Why?

What Sesame Street character would you like to be?

Why?

What would you do if you could misbehave in the way Dennis the Menace used to?

What would you do if you could be Laurel to Hardy?

Who would you be if you could be one of the Seven Dwarfs?

Who would you be if you could be one of the fairy tale Princesses?

Who would you be if you could be one of the Princes?

What old time television family would you have liked to be part of, and who would you have been?

Where would you go, if you could, anywhere in the world? 

If you had a Genie, and three wishes what would they be?

If you could choose your friends over again, would you choose the same ones?

I'd choose all of you...my faithful readers.

Have a great day.

Fessing up.

Okay, here's the thing.  I recently heard on the TV that people are getting to personal in their on line postings, especially when it comes to their blogs.  If I am, I'm sorry, I'm an old woman and I ramble.  This is a free blog, you've signed no subscription and you are free not to read anytime you wish.  And, I'm certainly sorry if I've ever offended anybody.  I hope you continue to read, but I'm telling you up front, the blogs will sometimes be very personal....like today.

As I wrote yesterday it was awful.  It was my own fault.  I had groceries delivered on Monday.  And I confess I was like a crazy person.  All that food.  Oh, some of it was not good for me, (like salty snacks, and sweet, sweet goodies) of course those were the foods I chose to scarf down while I was putting them away. 

Now, I know I should not confess here, but I think if I do it will help me over the guilt of it all. 

I started with an old fashioned, big, puffy, glazed donut.  Mmmmmmm, mmmmmmm, mmmmmmmm.

Still a bit later, (after I discovered three of the eggs I ordered had been cracked during handling) I had to eat them, so I scramble them up and had an English muffin, too.  I've not had an egg since Christmas, they were yummy.

While twilight was settling in, I decided I just had to have something salty.  So, I went to the snack cupboard and pulled out a bag of chips.  I ate, and ate, and ate.  Zorro wept.  (He does not drool, he sheds tears.)  I was stuffed to the gills.

And....a tiny bit later, I had a second big, puffy, glazed donut. Mmmmmmmmmmm.  With a cup of coffee.

Caffeine, more sugar, whoop, whoop.

Eventually I toddled off to the office to work.  I suddenly began to feel funny, kind of squeamish.  Full, uncomfortable.  I took a couple antacid tablets and continued to work.

They didn't help.  So I decided it was time for bed, I took two more tablets.

Well, the caffeine and all the sugar would not allow me to doze off, and all those foods I normal don't gorge on were still laying like a lump on my stomach.  I was
miserable.  Around 2 AM I fell into a stupor.  Around 4 I was awake again.  Two more tablets were devoured. 

I finally fell asleep 'for reals'.

When I finally awoke, I felt as though I had been on some kind of a binder.  It was awful.  The caffeine was gone, the sugar was gone, and I was low, low, low.  Seriously, I don't know how drug addicts survive withdrawal.  I was a mess.  And, stayed like that most of the day.

So, what have I learned from all this.  MODERATION.  Yes, MODERATION.  It's okay to have donuts on hand, and snacks, too.  Eggs are not bad either in MODERATION.  And, I know this is not a good excuse for my bad behavior, but for the last week my diet had not been all that good, and when my eyes beheld all at fooooooooood, I was overcome with evil but delightful glee.  I snapped.  I simply snapped and over-moderated with everything.

I ate much better yesterday, and today I'm pretty much back to normal.  Most of the goodies have been packaged and frozen, to be doled out in a normal fashion, and I've not had an antacid tablet in over twenty four hours. 

There you have it, probably waaay more information than you ever needed to know.  However, in my defense, this is also a learning experience for all of us.  Overindulgence is a bad, bad, thing.   We can be so easily lured off the manicured garden path and into the dark woods of donuts, and chips, and too many eggs....oh, my.

Dang it.

Yesterday was a great day.  Today, not so much.  I'll be back tomorrow.

Singing a song

You know how sometimes you get a song stuck in your head?  That happened to me this morning, while I was cutting my hair.  I was in the process of sweeping the hair off the bathroom carpet and thought to myself, "There has got to be a bushel of hair here."

Bushel.  Now there's word I haven't used in a long time.  Why in the world did it happen to come to me at that exact moment.  Immediately, I'm talkin' immediately, a little ditty from my long ago past jumped into my head.

Perhaps you remember it, too.  "I love you, a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck, and a hug around the neck.  A hug around the neck, and a barrel and a heap, a barrel and a heap and I'm talking in my sleep...." and so on and so on. 

Now, my curiosity was aroused, because I couldn't remember where the song originated.  I knew it had to be from my youth, it must have been popular and often played on the radio, and that it was from a time when you could actually understand the words the singer sang.  (Unlike today when most songs are loud and mumbled.)
Anyway, I decided I was going to have to research this...shower, shampoo, and shave are going to have to wait.  And off to the Internet I go.

I learned the song was created by a fellow named Frank Loessner in 1950, and apparently it was not expected to go anywhere, until it became a song from the Broadway musical Guys and Dolls and was sung by Vivian Blaine.  Later, the song was recorded by several personalities including The Andrew Sisters, Perry Como and the delightful, beautiful, talented Doris Day...(Yes, I adored her).  I'm sure today there's not a kid in the world has even heard of these people, much less the song.

However, this is what really got me to thinking.  Do kids today even know what a bushel and a peck are?  I don't think so.  As I mentioned it has been years and years since I've even thought of these words, much less spoken them.  As a result, and although I'm pretty sure my kids have heard bushel and peck spoken, I'm not sure they even know what they are.  For instance I'm sure on at least a couple of times I've told them (when they've accidentally got a smidgen of dirt in their mouths) "It's okay, you're supposed to eat 'a peck' of dirt a year." 

How curious that words come and go...and with it a bit of Americana.  Sunday afternoon outings frequently took us by farmer fruit and vegetable stands.  The staples for displaying them were always woven baskets in two sizes, one was a bushel and one was a peck.  Bushels of apples, and pecks of tomatoes.  Oh, you could buy just one apple or one tomato, but what a joy it was to go home with a bushel of apples and a peck of tomatoes in the trunk.

Today, 90% percent of the time, if you stop by a fruit and vegetable stand...if you can even find one.  What you buy is put into a plastic bag, that is flung into the trunk, and when you get home you find the apples and tomatoes have been rolling around back there with every turn you made.  Sigh, I guess it is what it is.

Besides, roadside stands are becoming obsolete, now if you want fresh fruit and vegetables you have to wait for weekends when communities set up "Farmers Markets" in town plazas or parking lots.  I confess I've been to some of those, and they're okay, I guess.  But....

...there was just something about that surprise, when you rounded the bend of a country road, and found an unpainted, slightly leaning fruit and vegetable stand at the end of a farmer's rutted, unpaved driveway.  There were the bushels and the pecks filled with all kinds of home grown produce, enticing, luring you, tempting you to stop.  It was often overwhelming.  Some of these stands were operated by barefoot children, or sometimes by the 'honor' system.  A weathered sign posted the price 'per each' or by the 'bushel and a peck' in white wash, and a dusty, finger-printed glass jar, sat in the corner of stand,  you were honor bound to pay.  In those days I have to believe everybody did, so everybody won.

There you have it.  Another trip down memory lane.  Oh, and just in case your curious, a bushel is a unit of measure of dry goods equal to 64 pints.  And a peck is a unit of measure of dry goods equal to 8 quarts. 

Imagine me...I'm still singing..."I love you a bushel and a peck, a bushel and a peck and a la, la, la, la, la".

Hellllllooooooooooo!

So, here I am sitting a-top the steps in Times Square.  I don't even know what time it is.  Who cares what time it is when you are in Times Square.  Anyway, as I mentioned on Facebook a while back, the city is working on the north end of the Square, and there is a lot...I'm talking a lot of construction going on.  It is noisy, even in the wee small hours.  And, that's why I'm here, in the wee small hours, watching construction.

There are some cranes at work, and have been for weeks.  For the longest time I wondered what the heck they were up to.  Tonight it has become clear.  Although at the moment the cranes sit silent, below me, a bunch of guys are putting together what looks like a huge screen.  I mean this thing is huge.  It's a flat panel, and the way the metal strips bend, I think they must be made out of aluminum, one guy can lug a panel into position.  And, they are doing a 'hand off' kind of thing with them, like 'bucket brigades' of old time fire men. 

Maybe it's the cup of coffee I got at McDonalds across the street, or maybe it's the cold air, regardless, I finally get what's going on.  They are putting together new screens, making facades, for the buildings on west side of the street, once all the construction is done, advertisements will flash across them, 24-7, and they will help light up "the great white way".  Man, I hope I'm still here to watch those crane hoist those screens into place.  That is going to be some feat!  I wonder if they will do that during the day?  I kind of think they will, because I've yet to see the cranes operate at night.

It's cold here and I should probably toddle off to my hotel, but I'm transfixed.  Because not only is there construction to watch, there are still people roaming around.  Where are they from?  What are they doing here?  Where are they going?  Cabs and limos are still heading south along this famous "bow tie".  I'm sure the bars have closed by now, but maybe not.  Why are these people still up?  The Saturday evening theaters have long since close their doors for the evening, have they been to late dinner at one of the 'swank' restaurants around here?  Or, perhaps a charity event?  Maybe a private party?  Who knows, It's Friday night, the weekend lies ahead.  They can sleep in tomorrow morning.

However, in the meantime, I know why I'm here, I'm enjoying my own special "show".  Bundled up, hands wrapped around my coffee, I'm watching in wonder as one by one, those men dang those metal panels into place, forming a continuous flat surface,  I suspect in a day or two it will look like the one standing upright next to it.  Of course, they will have to add the girders first, that should be fun to watch.

New Yorkers takes all this in stride, they walk around the construction site, most oblivious to what's going on, they see this all the time.  But, not me.  Nope, I'm a construction junkie.  This is all amazing.  Day or night, hot or cold, rain, snow, sleet hail or sun, this place never disappoints. 

Having a ball.  That's it for now.

Hugs and kisses.

Me.

Surprises

"You know why I like spring so much?"
Me:  "Because the rain is warmer.  I noticed yesterday when I went for the mail it actually is."
Frankie:  "Well, that is true but, no".
Me:  "Because we can go outside in our bare webbed feet."
Frankie:  (Snorting) "No."
Me:  "Because we can shake off some of our winter rust?"
Frankie: (Snorting)

I'm trying to ignore her, and have continued typing through this whole conversation.
I've no idea what she's getting at.  She does this all the time.  I wish she would simply get to the point. 

I won't say she's breathing down my neck, but I can tell she's not going to go away.  So, I whirl around in my chair, cross my arms across my midsection, lean back and prepare for whatever the heck she wants to get off her chest.

Me:  "Okay Frankie, why do you like spring so much?"
Frankie:  "The surprises.  You know what I found yesterday, so tiny and close to the ground I almost missed it?"
Me:  "What."
Frankie:  "A Violet, one of the purple ones.  It's nestled back in a corner, next to the down spout and garage foundation.  Oh, it's so pretty and delicate.  I was going to pick it       ....but didn't."

She made that sound as though she had preformed a miracle.

"And", she said, this morning I was peeking out from behind the bay window curtain and discovered tons and tons of blossoms ready to burst on the currant bush, too.  Can you believe it?"

I can, but I want to get back to work.  I've been working on a 'fish' project for days, and can't decide if I'm wasting my time or not.  If I'm not happy with the results today, I'm going to chuck the whole idea.  Frankie, is simply being a big bother this morning.

"Have you seen all the blossoms on the plum outside the morning room window?  Is that gorgeous or what?"

As a matter of fact, I had, yesterday morning.  Late last month when we had the melting snow and icicles had started to form, the tight buds on the bush were covered in ice, and at the time I was so enthralled I actually took a couple of pictures of them.  Yesterday I took particular notice that the buds had turned into clusters of lemon yellow blossoms.  I think this is actually an ornamental plum, although come August a few tiny, bright red, gourd shaped, plums can be seen nestled deep within the branches.  There's no meat on the fruit to speak of and it tastes like I imagine paper might, and inside is a cute, miniature football shaped seed. 

Well, by now I'm too entranced with Frankie's marvels and delights of springs surprises that I'm no longer interested in my project.  Maybe I need to take a break
and a Henry David Thoreau's look around the yard. 

Okay, Frankie and I are back.  It seems that overnight, the marsh marigolds are flowering, the hyacinths in the mailbox garden all have buds, the camellia bush across the street is a mass of pink blooms.  My watercress, wild ginger and wild bleeding heart are up and looking great.  The forsythia should have sunny yellow
flowers soon.   Oh, and the birds...they are happy and singing up a storm.  Now that I think about it, I've started to see all kinds of spring and summer species returning. 

I'm glad I took a little break, not only was the air refreshingly clean, the breeze was indeed a bit warmer and discovering all springs surprises was a delight.  I guess sometimes a person simply needs to see the world through another persons eyes.

Thanks, Frankie. 

Beep, beep, beepity, beep...this just in.

So much to talk about so little time.

Heard on the  news, (edjukated metrolgist) there's a 2% chance of tornadoes along the pacific northwest coast late tonight...just another thing to get people into a tizzy.

My grandson's a "Stud Muffin."  How cool is that?  How old am I that I know what a 'Stud Muffin is?

Oh, and I just learned Stud Muffins are not just good looking guys, they are also edible muffins...there are recipes for people......and....some for horses.  The ones for horses sound awful, but are supposedly a 'sweet treat' for them.

It actually feels warm...I think the northern hemisphere is starting to believe spring is going to come.

The thermostat on my gas fireplace is actually clicking off for periods of time.  Is my house starting to retain heat?  Oh, my gosh!

The eagles are the best parents...ever...worst weather...ever, since I've started watching them.  Yesterday they brought in extra corn husks and grass for additional insulation to protect the eggs.  Isn't it amazing how they instinctively know how to do that?

The tops of my daffodils are starting to crook over...I hope they will start to bloom soon.

I think I've finally decided what I would like to do if I were really, really, really rich.  I'm afraid of water so I wouldn't go on cruises, and traveling by air is not fun any more.  So, I think I would take all those train excursions you see on Travel and the Public Broadcasting Channels.  You know, the Oriental Express, and the one that goes through Copper Canyon...there's a bunch of others, too.  Yep, that the ticket, I could probably take my furry creatures along, too.

I've got ants....AGAIN.

I don't think I'm ever going to like pretzels.

Or, licorice.

Some of God's best jokes.  Grey hair, wrinkles, aches, pains, and dentures.

Daylight savings time.  Why don't we just keep it year round....or not have it at all?

I've just been told, "Time's up."  Guess that's all the news that's 'fit to print'.

Tomato Butts

Yesterday I was in the pits, worldly affairs had overwhelmed me.  Over the course of the day my spirits got better, thank goodness.  I guess you could say I was morose. 

I like to watch late night shows, if I get to bed on time, and last night I was there for the end of the Tonight Show, and the start of Craig Ferguson's Late, Late Show.  He was having an emotional day as well, it was amazing to see how two people could have such different reactions to the same worldly affairs.  Where I got sad, Craig got angry.  Man, he was mad, mad, mad.  Of course, I didn't blame him.  I think we had the reactions we did simply because as two people, standing alone, we knew there was not a dad-burn thing we could do about the state the world is in.

I'm sure we both feel better today.  I know I do, oh, I'm not jumping for joy or anything like that, but I have moved on.  I've found my glasses, and I've filled my glass with some Jim Beam, Club Soda and lots of ice.  It's all good.

Anyway, as I mentioned last week, over the weekend I had a houseful of company.  It was a great time.  We tackled my Dill Pickle Jigsaw Puzzle.  Oh, I had intended to make it hard.  Oh, Buddy, was it hard.  It only had 252 pieces, but it took us both days to finish it.  We felt quite accomplished when the last piece fell into place.

On Saturday we were having sandwiches for dinner, while the girls started work on a new puzzle, I began to prepare the food.  As I was slicing tomatoes I happened to mention one of the commercials Brook Shields does, in which she is ordering a salad at a restaurant.  She tells the waitress she does not want "tomato butts" on her salad.
For some reason, the first time I saw this commercial, that statement cracked me up.
First, because I'd never heard that term before, and second, because I always, always, put salt on my "tomato butts", and eat them separate. 

So, I was telling the girls about this commercial.  My daughter suddenly shot me a very sheepish look. Pressed her index finger to her lips, and announced she threw her "tomato butts" into the trash.

What?????

I proceed to tell her how I sprinkle salt on mine and eat them separate, and she could at the very least throw hers into a plastic bag in the freezer to add to her spaghetti or Chile sauce.  Nope, she just chucks those suckers.  Well, son of a gun.

Now, here's the thing, and I did not realize this until this morning.  As I was slicing those tomatoes, I did the strangest thing.  I did not eat the butts.  I threw them into the trash.  Is that perplexing or what?  Power of suggestion, perhaps?  I've no idea.

All I know is this morning I can't stop thinking about those "tomato butts" slowly decaying out in my recycle bin.  I'm sorry butts, I know you would have been delicious.

Wallowing

Sigh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't know what comes over me sometimes.  By bedtime last night I had aches and pains us 'old people' get from time to time, and I was out of sorts because of it.  So, before I tucked myself into bed I took a couple of pain killers, thinking they would not only relieve my aching muscles, they would also lull me into a relaxing sleep. 

However, it turns out I didn't sleep well at all, and when I finally did doze off I had a terrible nightmare.  I simply don't know what brought this 'funk' on but, I woke up this morning down in the dumps.  Wa-a-a-y down in the dumps, and somehow crawling out of the muck and mire seems like a tremendous chore I don't really have the strength or energy to want to do.

Generally speaking I'm a very optimist person, ya' all know that if you are a regular visitor here at the Ramblings.  But, this morning I discovered my half full glass had been knocked over and sits empty, and my rose colored glasses are nowhere in sight.  I've even been trying to 'knock some sense' into me to no avail.  What to do, what to do?

Okay, I know I'm a very lucky person, I have a roof over my head, food in my fridge and cupboards, and just enough money to cover my expenses.  So, I've no right to complain.  Still...

I watched the news this morning....

I can't help but wonder what our country is going to do next.  We've already sent our young brave men and women across the globe for reasons I can't seem to fathom any more, and now with the upheaval in the Ukraine, what exactly is our roll going to be?  Aren't we eventually going to have our army, navy, marines and air force stretched so thin our own doors will be left open and unprotected?  So that like Nebuchadezzar the enemy will simply walk through our open gates.

And, what about us?  The general population, the mythical "middle class"?  Those of us who work our butts off, pay our taxes, and still hold out hope that America that used to be can be revived.  Are we finally going to throw up our hands in despair and defeat, admitting there is no "middle class", we're all at the brink, edge of the cliff ready to fall into the abyss of "poor", except we're just to scared to say the words, because we know we will fall into it. 

Seriously, no wonder I'm in such a 'funk'. 

Then there's this wacky winter, that does not understand spring is supposed to arrive in just a few weeks.  You want to scream?  I do.  I'm tired of wearing double pairs of socks, and thermals, and sweats, and sweaters.

I want to feel the sun on my bare skin, and a warm breeze waft across my face and rustle through my hair.  I want to feel good...inside, outside, upside and downside.  But, I guess that's not going to happen today.  Sigh~~~~~~~~~~.  So, I guess I'm going to go off and wallow.  Yeah, that's the ticket, I'm going to go wallow. 

Sigh~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~