TARYTERRE

IT'S CRAZY, YOU'RE EIGHTY

2012-02-24T01:54:00.008-05:00

Today you hit a MILESTONE birthday, Dad. Because you didn’t want a fancy SOIREE or GIFTS. I have racked my brain with just how to celebrate this BIG occasion. On your 70^th I posted a TRIBUTE to you on my website. I listed a few interesting factoids. "In the year you were born, 1932... unemployment was 24%. The cost of a postage stamp was two cents. Physicists split the atom for the first time. MGM ‘s Grand Hotel became a classic. And the Yankees won baseball’s prize for the best." I talked about how much you loved mom's SWISS STEAK, Spaghetti Westerns and the music of Hank Williams, Sr. I mentioned that you once threw a snowball, through the local church’s stained glass window... when you were a kid... much to the chagrin of the Parish priest and nuns. You’ve always been a handful. Ask mom. That HALO on your head has needed polishing from time to time. But to your credit, you have nurtured friendships that have spanned more than 7 ½ decades. You also LOVE your country, having served in the Navy. As a TV guy you have had your share of memorable moments. You have met famous people, some not so famous. None of that phased you. You have been on the sidelines of major sporting events. Football in particular. Though, I remember you snagging some cool VIP seats at a couple of baseball games, back in the day. As a toddler I had a bat and ball in my hand before I could walk. You were grooming me for a spot on the HOME team. Then my brother came along and he got the position. But I didn’t fret. I was on to the next thing. We used to get up at the crack of dawn to drive you to work. We only had ONE vehicle back then. Driving to the city was always fun, except for the morning I threw up in the backseat. Didn’t mom empty your lunchbag for that purpose. Do you remember that? Speaking of driving… When I was learning to drive, I suddenly FROZE, stopping right in the middle of a busy expressway. Cars whizzing past at lightening speed. You calmly opened the passenger door, got out and replaced me in the driver’s seat. When we got home you finally exploded about how we both could have been killed. But it wasn’t in the cards, was it? We’re still here, the pair of us. So many stories, Dad. Not enough space here to rehash them all. If we had the time, we could reminisce for hours. We wanted to do that. The plan was to drive back there to the East Coast and take you to dinner and be at your side to blow out the candles on your cake. But suddenly I had to babysit for grandchildren at the last minute. My hubby started sneezing, got a fever, runny nose, sore throat and chills. Then snow was predicted. But we were hopeful. So we sat on the plan to see how things played out, later in the week, hoping for the best. Instead things got worse. Grandkids are a handful. It wore me out, but good. Hubby feeling more miserable than ever. Then if all that weren't enough, my right knee gave out... putting me in excruciating pain all over again, making walking difficult at best. (I know, I need surgery. No lectures please.) I'm really mad our best efforts were thwarted. Life wouldn’t cooperate. We couldn’t make the trek back there, melting all those miles between us. We are stuck here. You are stuck there. And it’s your 80^th birthday. What a bummer we can’t all be together. It saddens me more than you know. So now we are going to have to improvise. SKYPE will help. So be prepared for an online visit, instead. OKAY! Thank GOD for the internet. It’s the next best thing to being there. Throughout the years, you’ve encountered the BEST of times and the WORST of times, DAD. In fact... you were so teeny tiny, on the day you were born... they bundled you up and placed you inside a shoebox... then placed it in an open dresser, thinking you wouldn’t make it through the night. But you HELD your own, didn't you? And SURPRISE, SURPRISE... here you are... all these years later, going strong. " HAPPY 80^th BIRTHDAY, DAD." The COGITATION today is... "How OLD would you BE, if you didn’t KNOW how OLD you were?" Do you have an answer? Something to contemplate as you head into this next decade. We LOVE you.

CRAZY PEOPLE by THE BOSWELL SISTERS 1932

WEINERMOBILE, A BLAST FROM PAST

2012-02-20T00:57:00.005-05:00

Weekends are usually slow around here. Not much to see or do... that we haven't ALREADY seen or done. With gas prices on the rise and no income coming in, except Social Security, we've been trying to stick close to home. It's positively BORING around here. So imagine our delight when we saw this unusual vehicle hanging around the parking lot of our local grocery store.

It definitely got our attention. And caught the eye of everyone passing by. We seriously wondered how they DRIVE that thing. Needless to say, they were promoting WEINERS from Oscar Mayer. FREE coupons for all.

The truth is we haven't had a weiner to eat in years. From what we hear there is nothing NUTRITIOUS inside them. Back in the day, however... they were a regular staple of our childhood diet. Where we come from they call them frankfurters or dogs, HOTDOGS. I would smother mine in yellow mustard with pickle relish inside a BIG bun. My husband on the other hand was partial to CONEYS... made with chili, onions, mustard, ketchup and red pepper relish.

We'd get them at the ballpark, the fair, our local hangouts and at home.

Oh the memories... All this talk about WEINERS made us hungry for a couple of FOOTLONGS. And since I had never had a CONEY... I figured I'd try one, at long last. Better late, than NEVER, right? What a Blast from the Past.

MY VALENTINE'S SONG TO YOU

2012-02-12T02:28:00.020-05:00

In honor of Valentine's Day... Here are some of the lyrics to a song I adore called I GUESS I LOVE YOU written by Jack Murphy, music by Frank Wildhorn and recorded by Linda Eder. It's on her It's No Secret Anymore album. If you have NEVER heard of her, you are missing a real treat.(couldn't find a video of her singing this particular song, though) And just so you know, I paraphrased the lyrics, leaving some parts out. Let's just say I had my reasons and leave it at that. OK? It is a FUN song, a bit unconventional, but I think you'll like it. It comes from my heart. It is dedicated to all my blog buddies, friends, family, furbabies and last but not least, my hubby. HAPPY HEART DAY.

"I WANT you. What can I say?

I'm undeniably, reliably SINCERE that way

I NEED you... I must confess

The heart and soul of you, the whole of you

And nothing less.

'Cause when I'm near you

You pop the top off my thermostat

I guess I love you, that's that!

Why fight it...What can I do?

I am pathetically, genetically disposed to you

So take me... My heart's aflame

I'll be like Juliet who can't forget old what's-his-name

I guess I love you, like Santa loves his sled

Like "Blue Eyes" said: "You go to my head"

I want you... Haven't you heard?

I'm exponentially, essentially...Oh, what's the word?

I need you...Will I let go?

I'll be redundantly redundant... NO, no, no, no, no!

'Cause since I FOUND you

My life is one sappy, HAPPY mess.

How do I want you?

How do I need you?

How much do I love you?

Just guess."

PS) I was going to end my post on the picture above. But in light of recent news, I changed my mind. When I first heard the song THE GREATEST LOVE OF ALL it touched my soul. It was such an inspiration. Whitney Houston may you Rest in Peace. Your VOICE, that AMAZING voice, will be missed by us all.

PIONEER WOMAN, SUPERBOWL & SYNAGOGUE

2012-02-05T00:51:00.013-05:00

I come from a long line of sport lovers. But my husband is NOT into sports of any kind, unless it’s The Olympics. Therefore he does not follow basketball, baseball, or football on a regular basis. He has no team in the game. Throughout the years... we’ve done a wide variety of things... on SuperBowl Sunday... to pass the time, while everyone else partied. But MOSTLY we did NOT watch the game, under any circumstances. Having grown up with sports as part of my weekend ritual, this no participation rule of his, IRKED me. I began to feel like we, as a couple, were on the outside looking in. CHAMPIONSHIP games were a BIG deal. I wanted to see them. EVENTUALLY, over the course of time, I got my husband to cave in. But... he had to justify WHY in his mind. We both LOVE the clever way businesses try to entice customers with their commercials. And since SuperBowl Sunday is when they UP the ANTE... we started to watch the BIG game, just so we could see the commercials and of course, the halftime entertainment... according to my husband. WHATEVER the reason, we were FINALLY watching... and that's all that mattered to me. For munchies, I would put out a bowl of chips, a fresh veggie platter, and that was it. But my hubby wasn’t happy with that. He wanted MORE. We couldn’t agree on what, though? He did NOT want to eat the same things I did. I was pulling out my hair trying to come up with a spread that satisfied us both. One complaint followed another, by him. I was FED up listening to it. Truth is... he didn’t really want to partake in this National Holiday of Sport, so he was being difficult... and THAT made me MAD. Football was something I always LOVED. So I snapped. "You take what you can get," I told him. "Or make your own." It got his attention. We made peace with each other. It was then, quite by accident… that my husband discovered that the local synagogue made CARRYOUT Brown Bag LUNCHES for Superbowl Sunday. It was their annual fundraiser. (The local churches did nothing.) Each meal included a DELI-STYLE Corned Beef sandwich, fresh potato salad, sauerkraut, and a mouthwatering dessert. My husband decided to give it a try. He LOVES his Corned Beef stacked high, slathered with brown mustard and a crisp dill pickle on the side. This Brown Bag Lunch fit the bill. It reminded him of his days growing up in the BIG city. So a NEW tradition at our house was born. For well over 20 years, my hubby has been going to Temple Beth Israel to get his DELI sandwich each SuperBowl Sunday. Thank you wonderful ladies for making my Chef duties easier and for keeping him happy, the past couple decades. I pass on getting the meal, myself... no offense to anybody... because I HATE corned beef. Always have. Always will. Therefore, I will be eating... Pioneer Woman, Chicken Wings with Blue Cheese. There will also be fresh fruit and veggie platters on the table. For the record, my husband NOW actually WATCHES the TEAMS spar. As for me, well I couldn’t be happier… I still ENJOY seeing all those TIGHT ENDS. That’s our GAME plan. What’s yours?

IZZE RUINED MY KEYBOARD

2012-01-29T18:38:00.005-05:00

Last night I had a bottle of IZZE. It’s a combination of fruit juice and sparkling water. It’s my NEW favorite drink. But it’s expensive, so when I have one, it’s a real TREAT. Unfortunately, I accidently knocked the bottle over and spilled it. It poured out all over my computer keyboard. What a mess. Not knowing what to do… I flipped my keyboard upside down and let it drain. All night long. I figured it would be good to go in the morning. So I slept in and forgot about it. Later in the day, I cleaned up the damage. Everything seemed to be functioning until I tried to use my space bar. It kept sticking. Then it STOPPED working altogether. Wouldn’t budge. This frustrated me. Not only had I lost the cost of the IZZE, but now I needed to BUY a NEW keyboard. This was an added expense, we didn’t need. It snowed today and I made a decision not to drive in it. So the keyboard would have to wait until Monday or sometime later in the week. There would be no commenting on blogs or new blog posts from me, today. I was really mad at myself for being so clumsy. I began moping around the house since I couldn’t be online. But my hubby quickly came to my rescue, when he heard the problem. He went into his office and brought out a BRAND NEW keyboard, still in the box. It apparently had come with a NEW computer he had gotten a while back. At the time, he kept using his old keyboard with it because he didn’t like this one. LUCKY for me, he didn’t throw it away, or donate it. I LOVE this NEW keyboard. The buttons are recessed into the board, flushed with the surface. It’s more sleek and modern than the one that got drenched with IZZE. I LOVE it. Which goes to prove... ‘One man’s junk is another man’s treasure.’ And... gifts come from the most unexpected places. I wonder what else my husband has hidden in that office of his?

LEFTOVERS AN INTERNATIONAL DELIGHT

2012-01-23T01:24:00.002-05:00

I am finally back on my feet, after my recent illness. Following 8-10 days with little if any food, I am now cooking up a storm and eating too. I was apparently starving. It is only my husband and I here at the house. Yet... I have a tendency to make enough FOOD to feed an army. Well, maybe not an army. LOL - But definitely enough for a very LARGE family. So the leftovers have been piling up. Because I haven’t left the house much recently, due to the fact I was so sick… I wanted to go out somewhere tonight to eat, instead of cooking in. I thought we could use a gift card we got at Christmas to offset the cost. My husband immediately nixed the idea. He wanted to spend a quiet evening at home watching Desperate Housewives and Pan Am. But after telling me this… he then had the gall to ask what I was going to make for dinner. I was a tad bit peeved. Say what? Were you NOT listening mister? I am NOT in the mood to cook. Nor was I in the mood... to listen to him COMPLAIN about any menu I might put together. He is very particular about his food. And expresses his dissatisfaction often, though he won't lift a finger to help. So I thought about it for a minute or two, then decided we’d have a SAMPLER PLATE using up the leftovers. On the surface that sounds GOOD. But the diversity in flavors from the refrigerator contents was enormous. Didn’t know if we were ready to combine them all at once? However, my husband is all about saving a dime, these days, because he’s unemployed, so he agreed, LEFTOVERS it was. Biryani Chicken, Artichoke Ravioli, and Peanut Thai Salmon were the dishes. I divided them up between our two plates. Then... heated them up in the microwave. I added fresh radishes and snowpeas to the plates, for vegetables. Although a bit unconventional, the combination of INTERNATIONAL flavors made this SAMPLER PLATE an instant hit with both of us. Everything was even MORE delicious the second time around. I must admit it was better than a trip to a restaurant. Our delighted palates went from India, to Italy, and Thailand. Dessert was Cherry Paczki from Poland. Perfect for a dismal snow covered night. Have you ever had an impromptu dinner of leftovers… that took you on an exotic trip around the world… out of your doldrums?

PORCELAIN BUS, GARBAGE BOWL & BEING SICK

2012-01-15T16:07:00.003-05:00

We are all adults. I am going to be blunt and a little naughty with my choice of words here. Do not hate me. It’s delirium. I have been driving a PORCELAIN BUS for the past 8 days battling the flu. Finding humor in this whole ordeal makes it tolerable for me. For those of you who have no idea what I’m talking about, let me explain. A porcelain bus is a toilet. Here’s WHY in case you never saw the comedy show that first brought it to the world’s attention. Visualize this. A city bus driver, sitting tall, hand on the wheel. Me... on the floor in my bathroom, with my arms wrapped around the bowl as I repeatedly vomit. My bobble head never skipping a beat. See the similarities. Or better yet, imagine me at a FANCY schmancy SPA... paying the price for expensive COLONIC therapy... as I sit my aging derriere on the THRONE... um, COMMODE seat to EVACUATE my bowels, oops! CLEANSE MY SOUL. On the other hand... I’ve been using my brand NEW Rachael Ray GARBAGE Bowl... I got for Christmas, for the EXACT same purposes... when I can’t CRAWL out of bed from the high fever and chills. It’s just the right size, who knew? One has to be creative when you’re suffering like this. Not a pretty picture, I’ve painted. Is it? Too much information, you say. I'M SORRY. Just wanted you to all know why I’ve been missing in action, reading and commenting on your blogs. Good thing for me I only post here, once a week. This is THAT update. Please do NOT worry about me. Things are looking up. In the past 24 hours I seemed to have turned a corner. My PJ’s are drenched. The fever has finally broke. Food, other than saltine crackers, has suddenly become attractive. But my stomach is still doing flip-flops, so easy does it on my intensines. Chicken Soup with Matzoh Balls, scrambled eggs, or a plate of egg noodles slathered in mushroom soup… while doing absolutely NOTHING for my refined palate… might just stay down. Meanwhile, ginger ale, made with REAL ginger, WETS my WHISTLE... even though I hate soda pop. This bout with FLU has taught me some valuable lessons. Number 1. Flu Shots do NOT work. Number 2. $H!T... pardon me, FECES Happens when you least expect it. Number 3. This TOO shall PASS.

RETRO in the NEW YEAR

2012-01-09T00:09:00.003-05:00

With all its ups and downs, the OLD year is behind us. Now it is time to make a FRESH start and move forward. One of the first things my husband and I did in 2012 to facilitate that, in regards to our current financial situation, is to ELIMINATE our LANDLINE. It was costing way too much money to maintain it AND our mobile phones. So… it is CELLPHONES ONLY... here at the house, from now on. Plus... we’re using Skype and the computer for video calls. We’re making the adustment well. I find I don’t miss the housephone at all. But there’s a reason. For Christmas my hubby and I got ourselves a GIFT that just keeps on giving. It’s called a Native Union Moshi Moshi Retro POP Handset. I know that’s a mouthful. I usually don't endorse things, but it’s a really NEAT product. It costs about $30 and comes in a variety of colors. I got a purple one. My husband got black. You plug this handset into your cellphone and you can have a conversation like on a regular old-fashioned phone. REMEMBER. The ones where you could hold the handset/receiver on your shoulder and walk around the house. According to Amazon, and I’m quoting here… " It was developed by French designer David Turpin. This Retro POP Handset combines the comfort of a traditional handset telephone with the convenience of the modern cellphone transforming it into a unique conversation device. It is compatible with all 3.5mm jack cellphones and computers, including Droid, iPhone, BlackBerry, iPad and the latest MacBooks. It has noise-reducing technology for a crisp clear sound. It eliminates up to 99 percentage of the radiation that is usually absorbed by using a regular cellphone. And last but not least it has a button on the handset for easily picking–up or hanging-up the phone." My husband and I absolutely, positively LOVE it. It brings back part of the past we miss, with a modern day twist. Santa did GOOD. This is the BEST gift ever. A GREAT investment. And so much FUN. Makes sacrificing the landline totally worth it.

CHANGE IS GOOD

2012-01-02T02:10:00.004-05:00

I never have MORE than $2.00 of coins in my purse or on my person at any given time. It weighs me down and I don't like handling it. So I have a variety of places I put all my spare change in. A floppy wicker basket. A jar. A ceramic cat. A flower vase. An old teapot. Just to name a few. The other day I noticed these places were getting kind of full, so I decided to empty some of the coins into one big container, instead. I had a plastic shoebox, on hand, so that's what I used. My husband took a wild guess about how much money was actually in there. He guesstimated about $250. I laughed at him. "Your estimate is way too high," I told him. But he insisted it wasn't. Wanting to settle this debate once and for all, I decided I would CASH this PART of my STASH in. I still had other collections of coins, throughout the house, that I was saving. But I didn't want to ROLL any of them. It was time consuming and the bank always gave me a hard time when I brought them in. There was a COINSTAR machine up at the local grocery store, that counted coins, so that's where we headed.

Never having done this COINSTAR thing before... it proved to be a bit of a challenge. You have to pour your coins, very slowly into this little basket, on the machine, that siphons them through the machine to be sorted and counted. Of course, you don't get to see this actually happen... you only HEAR it. Believe me when I tell you, it makes quite a racket. And sometimes it gets backed up. Then you have to wait for it to catch up.When the last coins are counted and it's finished... it spits out a receipt telling you, what's what. You can click on receipts pictured here to make them bigger, so you can see the breakdown of the transaction. It shows you exactly how many nickels, quarters, dimes, etc. that you had. Kind of cool, isn't it?

But also notice that COINSTAR isn't FREE. SURPRISE! SURPRISE! They take a processing fee of about 9%. That was cause for pause, when we realized it. I could have rolled the coins myself and had about $23 more. But the deed was done. I had almost $209 in my pocket. I was impressed. My hubby's estimate wasn't too far off. So I decided to go back home and get the rest of the money I had been saving and bring it back to be tallied up.

This time around the plastic shoebox was even more full of coins. Once again my hubby took a wild guess. He said there was $500 in there. I guesstimated about $300. So we let COINSTAR do the work.

I had an additional $336.42. This time I had guessed the closest. I was so excited. Add that to the original $208.47 and the GRAND total of my COIN STASH was $544.89. Of course that's not including COINSTAR'S 9 %. But still... It's not a bad day's work for someone who doesn't collect a regular paycheck. I think I will put this money to good use. I'm SAVING it for a rainy day. But CHANGE IS GOOD. Maybe I should consider SPENDING it? Did you ever notice dollars burn a hole in your pocket, but coins accumulate?

HAPPY NEW YEAR

2011-12-29T19:26:00.002-05:00

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And auld lang syne!
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne.
We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne."
May you and your loved ones have a healthy and happy
NEW YEAR
2012

CREDIT WAS TAKEN

2011-12-26T03:48:00.002-05:00

Our Christmas was more than a little interesting, here. Apparently someone, with nothing better to do, had some fun at our expense. They hacked our credit/debit card information and used it to buy plane tickets, for almost a THOUSAND dollars on Christmas Eve, somewhere in Georgia. That is far away from where we live and play. The security at the bank called to tell us about the suspicious activity. They wanted to know if we authorized the transaction. We said, "NOPE." Now our card and online banking information is blocked, so they can’t use it again. In the meantime neither can we. Because of the holiday falling on Sunday, the bank will be closed on Monday. So we can't access our account information until Tuesday. The bank is going to issue us a new card after then. It should be here within the next week. The headaches this causes are enormous. We have zillions of accounts that get paid with that card. All of them must be switched over to the new card number when it arrives. Plus any Christmas presents that need to go back will be in limbo if purchased on the hacked card before it happened. One BIG mess. UNBELIEVABLE. Oh well. Que Sera Sera. My husband is unemployed. He needs a pacemaker. I need two new knees. We didn't need someone stealing our money, at Christmas. It put a real damper on the festivities. I hope they catch the bad guys who did this.

CHRISTMAS AT A DIFFERENT TIME, NEW YEARS TOO

2011-12-19T04:15:00.174-05:00

Let's take a trip back in time...

A Victorian Couple is about to entertain a few friends

During the Christmas season.

Invitations have been sent

A pretty Punch Bowl is out on the table

The Piano is waiting for friends to gather round
to sing carols

The Dining Room Table is set

A family member sits by the staircase to catch a glimpse
of company when it arrives...

The first guests admire one of the Christmas Trees

An anxious suitor waits

More friends gather

Everybody is happy to see each other

One of the relatives shows off his Trophy Room

A good time is had by all

Now we head back further in time...

HARK THE HERALD ANGELS SING

MARY did you KNOW

that your Baby Boy is heaven's perfect Lamb?
The sleeping Child you're holding is the Great, I Am.

SILENT NIGHT, HOLY NIGHT
Shepherds QUAKE at the sight

COME ALL YE FAITHFUL
O Come let us ADORE him

WAKE UP PEOPLE
It's time to
FLASHBACK to the FUTURE...

MARCH of the TOY SOLDIER

The MRS. spreading HOLIDAY cheer

REINDEER giving FREE RIDES before they
leave the North Pole

You BETTER watch OUT...
SANTA CLAUS IS COMING TO TOWN

NEIGHBORHOOD LIGHTS TO GREET HIM

Showcasing
ALL the COLORS of the SEASON.

Just LOVE a man in a RED velvet suit,
with WHITE trim...
don't you?

See you back here on January 2nd or sooner. From our home to yours...

MERRY CHRISTMAS
HAPPY NEW YEAR

...HAPPY CHANUKAH...
to ALL my Jewish FRIENDS and LOVED ones, too.

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

And auld lang syne!
For auld lang syne, my dear,

For auld lang syne.

We'll take a cup o' kindness yet,

For auld lang syne."

2012

PLYWOOD FIGURES LIGHT UP THE NIGHT

2011-12-12T06:29:00.011-05:00

My husband and I had a bit of Cabin Fever. So we got in the van and headed down the road, far away from here. It was an all day event. We did some Christmas Shopping. And splurged, a little, by eating out. Ate lunch at a GREEK restaurant and later had dinner at Denny's using our senior discounts. It was getting late, but we didn't want the day to end. So before going back home, we took a detour. There is a little town, off the beaten path, in Northwest Ohio called Bluffton. Every year for Christmas, they do up the town for the holidays with pretty lights, and painted plywood cutouts. The Town Square, by the church is the focal point of this celebration. Most people along the route, in and out, of town... adorn their yards with these distinctive wooden figures creating interesting vignettes. We own some of them ourselves because we fell in love with these kinds of displays the first time we came to Bluffton over 20 years ago. Of course, we did not know we'd be stopping there on this particular night. So we had no camera. Just our cellphones. The pictures aren't the greatest, but you can get an idea of how extensive this event is. Here is an example of what we saw along the way. ENJOY! Tis the Season to rejoice in all things.

CHILDREN BUILDING A SNOWMAN

AMERICAN SANTA HOLDING FLAG

TURTLE, PENGUIN, DUCK & BEAR LOOKING AT CHRISTMAS TREE

GREAT GRANDMA READING TO CHILDREN

A GIRL SCOUT CHOIR

BOY SCOUTS AND FRIENDS SINGING CAROLS

ICE SKATERS

PREACHER

A GENTLEMAN OUT AND ABOUT

A MAN DELIVERING PACKAGES

A BOY WITH HIS RED SLED

REINDEER PLAYING

A HORSE AND SLEIGH

SANTA FEEDING RACOONS

PEOPLE GATHERING

MUSIC PLAYING

MAILING A LETTER TO THE NORTH POLE

A SHEPARD TENDING SHEEP

A SHEPARD BOY

MARY AND JOSEPH

MAKING THE JOURNEY TO BETHLEHEM

THE NATIVITY

And look who followed us home.
A REINDEER

WHAT SHOULD WE NAME HIM?

CHRISTMAS NOW AT MY HOUSE

2011-12-05T02:03:00.012-05:00

Well the inside Christmas decorations are finally done. The first ones to go up every year are my Motion Figures. Aren't they cute? A little boy and a little girl caroling. Haven't watched a TV Shopping Channel in years. But I got these CAROLERS from QVC. Must be over 20 years ago. One of the first purchases I ever made there. Never named these cuties, though. Maybe I should, what do you think?

And of course, my FAVORITE fella at this time of year is the man with the RED SUIT. The one, the only DANCING SANTA CLAUS. We put him behind the sofa in our living room. I fell in love with him about 10 years ago at a local Menards. Everytime I went into the store, I would turn him on. Get your heads out of the gutter people. I just flipped a switch. LOL And he'd start singing and dancing. I'd join in and so would other folks. Made me happy. So much so, I thought about him day and night. Made my husband a little jealous. So I introduced him. My husband found DANCING SANTA to be quite a guy. He decided we needed to bring him home to entertain us. He asked HOW MUCH it would cost to do that and found out the price was right. So we've enjoyed the pleasure of Santa's company ever since.

My ANGEL CHERUB Water Fountain was a present for my 40th birthday. So many moons ago, when I was just a kid. That was a birthday to remember. Every year I fill the base with pretty red POINSETTIAS for the holidays. So festive.

Our mantel is kind of understated. Just a couple snowmen stockings and burlap evergreens with red bows.

A cheerful ELF and SOAP snowman sit on my counter in the bathroom.

A little Christmas Angel and Bottle Brush Tree sits besides me at the computer desk while I type.

Our little Silver Tree stands about 2-1/2 feet tall. It has a few bulbs hanging on it, that's all.

I'm CRAZY about our Fireplace Heater and Bears. Adds a rustic flair to the Family Room. Keeps us cozy and warm in the winter, too. This is the place I go to meditate and DRAIN my BRAIN. How do you like that sign? It's a warning. GO AWAY. Leave me alone. I'm in the moment and do not want to be disturbed. For the holidays, I did it up with a garland of poinsettias and a little wreath under the Vintage Espresso Maker. I don't know if you can see it... but on the top of the fireplace, to the right, there is a Deer with Antlers. It is actually a very, very, very old DoorKnocker. Pretty cool, huh?

This isn't a very good picture. But this is our BIG Tree. Sssh! I will tell you a little secret. We keep it up year round. It goes dark after the New Year and doesn't get re-lit until Thanksgiving the following autumn.

This little snowman stays up all winter, too... until the last snow flies. My father made it for me and I hold it near and dear to my heart. Christmas just isn't Christmas without it.

Let me introduce our FURBABIES, Mira and Dara. They are sisters. They look like twins, don't they? They apparently wanted to make a CAMEO appearance with the MOOSE Centerpiece. When I'm not looking they try to play with the styrofoam berries at the base of it. Don't let their sweet little faces fool you. They are trouble with a capital T. It took a few years to stop them from crawling up the tree at Christmas. And if they get a hold of tinsel at this time of year, it ends up dangling from their cute little tushies and you have to pull it out. HORRORS. I can't buy real poinsettias because if either cat nibbles on it, they could die. So we celebrate the holidays with a bit of caution. But it's the price you pay to protect the ones you love.

And finally... I had to make a little bowl of cinnamon pinecones with some mistletoe to sit on an end table. Besides looking nice, it fills my home with the fragrant smell of the holiday season. Don't you just LOVE Christmas and all the trimmings?

IT'S A WRAP, THE FEAST IS OVER

2011-11-28T06:04:00.000-05:00

We had a wonderful Thanksgiving celebrating with my parents on the East Coast. We weren't sure we were going to make the trip. My husband had been very sick and they live 9 hours away. But it had been quite a while since we had been back home. So we decided it was just what the doctor ordered. My mom pulled out all the stops for our visit making a tableful of favorites. Candied yams, green beans with bacon, oyster stuffing, cranberry sauce, creamed corn, sauerkraut and of course Tom Turkey and crabcakes. Her pies and desserts were out of this world. Coconut Cream, Pumpkin, Cheesecake, Banana Nut and her special Fruitcake. My dad proposed a toast that brought tears to our eyes. He also made a slideshow of everything that had happened around their house, that we had missed for the past 3 or 4 years. We watched that on TV. It was so good to be with our family. We talked and talked into the wee hours of the morning. Then when my parents headed off to bed, the hubby and I got adventurous. At 2am we left to do a little bargain hunting on Black Friday. At our first location, no shopping carts were to be found and there were long lines. But I snagged a toaster oven. The one we have is on it's last leg, so this will be a good replacement. The next place we went to, kind of surprised us. Nobody was there. I kid you not, the place was empty. But they had merchandise out the wazoo, stacked ceiling to floor. It was a blast looking through it all. Nothing we really needed, though, so we left around 5am. We fell into bed exhausted, but pleased with our one find. Gluttons for punishment when we woke up, we ventured out again. I know what you all must think of that. Please don't judge us. Frankly, we were curious if anything GOOD was still left and we were having fun. It takes so little to thrill us. We are on a fixed income and finding a GREAT deal is critical. So we had to scout them out. My hubby managed to pick up an Early Bird special, that was drastically reduced, at the computer store. It was 12 noon and he got the very last one. And he also got a variety of his Keurig K-Cups. Coffee never tasted so good. Meanwhile, I found a Christmas Tree Shower Curtain and hooks for the bathroom. Just BEAUTIFUL. And a pair of winter boots. We also went grocery shopping for all the things we can't find where we live... stocking up on them, since we don't know when... we are going to pass this way again. Found everything we wanted, EXCEPT for the EGG BARLEY. Apparently the only place to get it is online. Thank goodness for the internet and Cyber Monday. LOL I just want to say, in closing... there was no drama at any of the stores we went too. People were polite and nice, contrary to what you hear in the news. It is unfortunate it couldn't be that way everywhere. I'd love to show you pictures of everyone but they are shy and prefer not to be seen online.

So we have WRAPPED up one holiday, putting away the turkey and the trimmings, replacing them with festive Christmas decorations. The countdown has begun. Santa wants to know if you've been naughty or nice.

HAPPY TURKEY DAY

2011-11-21T02:25:00.017-05:00

..HAPPY THANKSGIVING..
from my house to yours

I'm taking a little BLOGGING BREAK to celebrate the holiday. So if you don't see me post here, or commenting on your blogs, do NOT be alarmed. I'll be back DECEMBER 4th or sooner. Meanwhile, enjoy the little video below.

"America's traditions tend to indulge in over-eating, watching too much TV or shopping. Therefore I suppose it's a MIRACLE that the concept of GIVING THANKS even surfaces at all." REMEMBER 'WHY' WE GATHER TO CELEBRATE. It AIN'T football or Black Friday.

PS). Also check out my other blog http://scooterladyridesagain.blogspot.com/

MY AFFAIR WITH eBAY IS OVER

2011-11-14T03:51:00.006-05:00

I bet all of you have heard about eBay . And I’d wager some of you have listed your wares there and love it. I used to. I began following the site back at the very beginning. I saw the potential of a giant yard sale online and signed up immediately. I was not disappointed. Listing, wrapping, packing, and shipping became second nature. I sold clothes, jewelry, knicknacs, and books. I became an expert in product photography. Life was good. I didn’t get rich, but I was making a small profit, selling the stuff, I no longer needed from around the house. I expanded my horizons. I was actually able to buy secondhand books for a quarter each at a local store. Then, I turned around and sold them for $8.95 to $14.99 on eBay. Pants... I picked up for $2 on sale at Value City, went for $14.99 to $19.99. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I began hitting garage sales, flea markets, estate sales and local discount stores looking for things to recycle online. My success continued until I decided to make a bigger investment and focus on selling NEW things instead of the old ones. Suddenly everybody else discovered they could do the same thing. And do it, they did. I had real competition. My profit margins shrunk, postage rates increased… and I was stuck with a couple storage areas… full of merchandise I couldn’t move, at any price. After years of eBaying, I quit. But we kept all the stuff, thinking we’d save it to sell in our retirement. We figured it would accumulate in value. It did. But we’ve been paying rent on those two storage areas for more than 14 years. We’ve spent a lot more on that, than anything is worth, inside. When my husband lost his job we knew that had to change. We couldn’t afford to keep them. So we cleared out all the clothes inside one of units donating them to area thrift stores. The pile of flip top boxes they were in was stacked 12 feet high and about 10 feet wide. Covered the whole back wall. It was a lot of clothes, worth thousands of dollars. But I felt donating them to needy folks was the way to go. However that did not empty the units. We still have boxes and boxes of old vases, books, collectibles, floral arrangements, etc. in them. So on a whim… I took a couple boxes home to see what treasures they held. I carefully researched what I had discovered and determined that they were worth listing. So... for the first time in years, I did eBay again. I threw money on my account… for fees eBay would take from each sale. eBay's gotten expensive in regards to sellers. But it's still the only game in town. If you want to sell. You've got to pay. So I began listing. I got two bites. I sold a used table runner for $17 and a vintage cat statue for $40. I was so-oo excited. I had a new job. The old eBay optimism was back. This was going to be the start of something big. It would supplement our Social Security. I was seeing dollar signs. I carefully wrapped and packed the items in anticipation of the big payoff. Then reality hit me squarely in the face. Neither of the two buyers who bid on my merchandise contacted me within the alloted time, after the auctions were over. No payment was made. I waited and waited. Not a peep. Then I complained to eBay. Enough was enough. eBay took action and pestered these people until I eventually got my money. It took forever. All this aggravation. It ain’t worth it to keep paying for the storage units and muddle along with eBay… making a few bucks, here or there. So… I’m contacting an auctioneer and am going to say farewell to this chain around our necks, once and for all. It’s been a long time coming… but it’s the right thing to do. I will be free at last... of the promises made. eBay this is goodbye. Our affair is over. I mean it this time. I really do. You can tease and tempt me... but you can’t LURE me into returning. We are finished. Once upon a time, I LOVED you. And I admit it was fun while it lasted. But sadly, this is the end of our story.

THE BOOMERANG KID

2011-11-07T01:58:00.009-05:00

At age 31... our youngest daughter, who is a microbiologist, officially became a BOOMERANG kid. She moved back home with us because she lost her job. Everything she owned went into storage. We paid for it, along with her cell-phone and car insurance. After living with us for about 6 months... she found another job. With our financial help she moved to St. Louis to begin life anew. Within the first week or two there, her employer flew her to Denver for training. They praised her skills. Everything was going great until a new boss came in to run things, a couple months later. Our daughter and that boss had a personality conflict that couldn’t be resolved, so she QUIT working there. With no job, she bummed around, trying to find another. Getting contract work, tided her over for a while. After a year... when her money ran out, she did what she always did, she called us for help. My husband and I are not spring chickens. But rather than pay someone else to do it... we made the trek to St. Louis, to help her physically move out of her rented townhouse. Destination... our place... once again. Once here, she dug her heels in... refusing to look for local work or helping out around the house. She had a huge chip on her shoulder. We all had a tough time getting along. And no one was happy. She sat online... all day and night... playing World of Warcraft, while we prayed for a solution. About 5 months later she informed us she had found a new position in Tacoma, Washington. This was 2,500 miles away. There was no relocation package. She had no money... so my husband and I had to subsidize the journey there. Then... we also had to pay... for someplace for her to lay her head at night, until she got her first paycheck. Everything was fine until she had chest pains, four months into the new job. She suspected she had had a heart attack. A visit to the doctor confirmed she had an irregular EKG result. She told this to her employer. They suggested she take a medical leave of absence until this was resolved. She agreed. But then... they fired her for not coming to work. Yet... amazingly, they continued to pay her for the duration of her contract. All of this added more stress to our daughter’s situation. While she tried to recuperate her health, it became clear she couldn’t stay there. So she packed up her car... and drove the 2,500 miles back home to us... yet again. She was 33 going on 34. She was supposed to be out on her own, grown up, with a life. Things for all of us became complicated, once more. Old patterns die-hard. Back in her old room upstairs, she acted more like a willfull child instead of an adult. And unfortunately we treated her accordingly. Another year and a half passed. She is now going on 36 years of age. With renewed health... and after circulating thousands of resumes, she finally got a bite. This time it was in Arizona, at a hospital on an Indian Reservation. They were willing to pay for her relocation, and needed her to start at the end of October. She immediately took the job. The movers came in, packed up her stuff and off she went. With nary a look over her shoulder, she barely said goodbye. Before she left, we had a heart to heart talk with her. A little tough love from us, a little too late. We told our daughter... she was going to have to... somehow, someway make it work, this time... whatever happened in Arizona. Now that we were unemployed, and living on Social Security, we couldn’t afford to support her financially anymore. There was no coming home, except for a visit. She said she understood. I really hope she does. Although we miss her... my husband and I have been readjusting... to the empty nest left here by her absence... quite well. To tell you the truth... it’s been nice, just the two of us. But... we can’t help wondering if the BOOMERANG kid will bounce back and make a go of her life, at long last. Or fail miserably. Her TRACK RECORD speaks for itself. Our fingers are crossed.

UNBURDEN MYSELF OF DRUGS

2011-11-01T02:52:00.001-04:00

The truth is I have trouble throwing most things away. I always think it will be important later. So I save stuff. But when something is potentially dangerous, like motor oil and old batteries, I do my level best to dispose of it, properly. But what about old or unused medications? For the past 20 years or so, my husband and I have acquired quite a stash. The street value of these meds had to be in the thousands of dollars. I didn’t want them to fall into the wrong hands by dumping them in the trash. And somehow it didn’t seem right to flush them down the toilet either. So I put them in a bag in the closet, adding more to the pile, each time we went to the doctor, and there were leftovers. For a while now I have been complaining to my local pharmacy that I had these old prescribed drugs and had no means to get rid of them. They told me to dump them in the garbage, or boil them in a big pot of water, then flush them down the commode. I recited my mantra about polluting the water supply, hurting fish, wildlife, and even people. And I talked of my paranoia about bad guys ransacking my trash, dumpster diving, finding the meds, then reselling them on the black market or online. My complaints fell on deaf ears. So I just kept filling the bags in the closet. Then I heard some startling statistics. Approximately 70% of kids that abuse drugs, do it, with old precriptions from their family and friend’s medicine chests. Another half a million children, aged 5 and under, will be poisoned by household medications. How sad. Because my daughters are grown and our visits with the grandchildren are usually at their houses, locking up our medications isn’t necessary here. But, I was wary of the fact there seemed to be no solution for this disposal problem, I had. Then, imagine my complete surprise, when out of the blue, a DISPOSE MEDS PROGRAM Flyer showed up in my grocery bag last week. The program was being sponsored by the College Of Pharmacy at a local University. They were setting up booths around town to collect old medications from local residents. Police would be on hand to assure proper transfer of the drugs. According to the college, everything would be disposed of with high temperature incineration in a contained vessel, not hurting the environment. This clinched the deal. Years of worry were over. I was delighted to finally unburden myself, and the bathroom closet of 12-15 lbs. of old pills. GOOD RIDDANCE.

MY HAUNTED HOUSE, BEWARE

2011-10-24T01:52:00.019-04:00

OUTSIDE IN MY YARD...
GHOULISH CREATURES HAVE ARRIVED
TO RAISE HAVOC.
WITHOUT MY PERMISSION
THEY'VE INVITED THEMSELVES
INSIDE MY HOME

IN MY DINING ROOM, SOMETHING CACKLES
DEMANDING A PLACE AT THE TABLE

IN MY FAMILY ROOM, A GOBLIN TAUNTS
AND A RAVEN WATCHES

IN MY LIVING ROOM...
ONE SKELETON RATTLES HIS BONES
WHILE ANOTHER HAS LOST HIS HEAD

IN MY BATHROOM I DON'T HAVE A LEG TO STAND ON
DID A MUMMY STEAL MY TOILET PAPER ?

AT MY DESK SOMEONE IS WATCHING ME
IS IT JUST A DREAM?

CHECK BACK HERE ON NOVEMBER 1st...
TO SEE IF ALL MY SPOOKY VISITORS
HAVE BEEN SPIRITED AWAY.
IN THE MEANTIME...WHEREVER YOU GO AND WHATEVER YOU DO THIS HALLOWEEN...
HAPPY HAUNTINGS

PUMPKINS, PONIES AND PULLED PORK

2011-10-17T02:31:00.005-04:00

TREES IN ALL THEIR AUTUMN GLORY

greeting me as I head to the Harvest Festival

PUMPKINS AND GOURDS GALORE

MUMS

FLORAL ARRANGEMENTS AND WREATHS

ADORABLE SCARECROWS

A TRACTOR PULLED HAYRIDE

SWEET PONY RIDES

PULLED PORK AND CAROLINA SLAW

A GOOD TIME WAS HAD BY ALL.
GOODBYE UNTIL NEXT YEAR

P.S. The photos are not the best quality. Taken from my cellphone in bright light. I could hardly see what I was doing because of the sunshine reflecting off the surface of it, as I was trying to take them..

P.P.S. Thanks to BUTTERCUP over at http://buttercupcountsherblessings.blogspot.com/
I won her Paper Culture Giveaway. I'm so-oo excited. I never win anything. But now I have. As a result, I get to pick out some lovely new notecards and stationary with a $50 gift voucher, she's going to send me. How wonderful is that? Made my day in a big way.

OUCH, IT STINKS. .

2011-10-10T02:06:00.009-04:00

When it rains, it pours. The toilet in the downstairs bathroom decided to back up, again. Looking at the sewer cleanout in the backyard, my husband determined that was where the trouble was. Once or twice a year, roots grow in our sewer line, catching whatever goes down there. It becomes clogged and we have a big problem inside the house. In the old days my husband would rent equipment and try to fix this himself. (Now he physically can’t.) This is backbreaking work. Sometimes he was successful at unplugging the clog and other times he wasn’t so lucky. That is when we would have to call a plumber. We tried various local guys and most of them encountered the same problem my husband had. They couldn’t push the roots and sewage through. It stopped them dead in their tracks. Then, the job hung in limbo... sometimes for a day... or even a week or two, while they tried to figure out what to do next. This became a huge inconvenience. So while we waited for a solution, we resorted to some very clever bathroom alternatives because the toilet was not available. Use your imagination. I won't elaborate. (Eventually we bought a camping toilet for such emergencies.) The plumbers ultimately figured out that their plumbing snakes... were useless here. They were just not long enough, to push the gunk through to the main sewer... because of the way our sewer line is laid out. When they shut down the old septic tank here, and converted us to city sewage, the line to the street became much longer - approximately 150 –160 feet. That created a situation for us. Most snake reels are about 90 feet long. And most plumbers only carry one reel with them... because they are quite costly... but mainly because one reel usually does the job. But at our house... it always takes two reels of industrial "snake" to deal with the problem. Otherwise there is an immovable object blocking the line. And sometimes even their snakes get stuck below ground, trying to have at it. Only one plumbing company locally has the right equipment to get the job done... Roto-Rooter. So, we don’t hesitate giving them a call, whenever we have an issue. This is the second time we've called them this year. Remember the onions and the garbage disposer? Unfortunately, Roto-Rooter is not cheap. This visit cost us a whopping $260. OUCH... screamed our checkbook! It STINKS! That is including our senior discount, too. Yet, while the plumber was snaking, outside in our backyard… my dear husband was busy at work. He was running all over the inside of the house, HELPING the plumber… by turning on water, in this sink or that, and flushing toilets. I say his time is worth money too. Therefore, at that hourly rate of $260 ... I think my husband is entitled to a cut of the plumber’s proceeds, don’t you? He made a wonderful assistant.

OLIVER IS THERAPEUTIC

2011-10-03T00:32:00.005-04:00

Meet Oliver. Are you in love? I am. Just look at those eyes. He is a real sweetheart, isn't he? What you don't know is this... that adorable dog, is actually a registered volunteer at our local hospital. Oliver interacts with all the patients and staff. He is a good listener and provides lots of comfort to those in need. He loves being petted. And he thoroughly enjoys his job as a therapy dog. He tries to make everyone’s day a little brighter, just by being there. He is a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. And he is ten years old. My husband and I had a chance to meet him during a recent hospital visit. He touched our lives and put joy in our hearts. We found out that Oliver works for the DELTA SOCIETY. They are a national non-profit organization that helps people by incorporating companion animals into their daily lives. “Delta Society's Pet Partners program trains and screens volunteers with their pets so they can visit patients/clients in hospitals, nursing homes, hospice and physical therapy centers, schools, libraries and many other facilities. Over 10,000 handler/animal teams bring comfort and compassion to those in need. These dedicated volunteers and their pets have been credited for helping people forget about their pain, providing distractions so nurses can perform medical procedures on patients and inspiring patients recovering from strokes and heart attacks to perform more physical therapy exercises than when they work with just their human therapist.” It is a well-known fact that when animals are around… people’s blood pressure will drop signifigantly. They will feel less depressed. Less lonely. And they will also experience less anxiety and stress. The DELTA SOCIETY depends on individuals and corporations for financial support. They receive no government funding. My husband and I are putting them on our Christmas List this year and will be making a donation. It is one of three charities we support. The other ones are… THE ROLLING DOG FARM, a place where disabled animals enjoy life. And HEIFER INTERNATIONAL, where impoverished families around the world receive training and gifts of animals (heifers, sheep, goats, chickens, etc.) that help them become self-reliant. The theory is… ‘it is better to teach a man to fish so he can feed himself than to give him a fish that will feed him just once.’ The links to these charities are listed below. The holiday season is almost upon us. When thinking of what you want for Christmas this year… think of others. Include them in the budget. It is truly better to give, than receive.

http://www.deltasociety.org/

www.rollingdogfarm.org/

http://www.heifer.org/

UNEMPLOYMENT AFTER DINNER

2011-09-26T01:13:00.007-04:00

My husband quietly ate his dinner, then afterwards said we needed to talk. I thought he had a complaint about the food. I was wrong. He needed to tell me about his job. He works in a small startup company bankrolled by one man. They are working on a hybrid system to improve gas mileage in buses. They were starting to sell units while still in development. But they haven’t ironed out all the bugs. So production has halted. The man financing the operation can no longer afford to do it until more capital comes in. So he slashed jobs. My husband’s was affected. I took his job for granted. I assumed it would always be there. Now it’s not. We lived our lives in the moment, not worried about tomorrow. Too late to undo that kind of thinking. We were ill prepared for this truth. We have nobody to blame, but ourselves. Thank goodness for Social Security. Without it we wouldn’t survive. It’s going to be a major readjustment, living on such a small income. But somehow, some way we will manage. In the meantime, I am grateful my pantry is full and my freezer is well stocked. I have a tendency to stockpile things. That has been a blessing in disguise. I fear the impact of unemployment will hurt most at the holidays. I won’t get to splurge on the grandchildren, like I’ve been accustomed to. Fortunately, I tucked away some items for them, over the summer, that can be used as gifts. Still Christmas won't be the same. But it will give us more time to focus on the real meaning of the season. On top of all this bad news, more followed... my husband has new heart and breathing problems that have further complicated our lives. For now... no surgery is needed. Thank goodness. But his medicines will cost us a small fortune... at a time, when we can afford it least. I am asking all my blog buddies to please say a little prayer for us, as we head into this new phase of our lives. It's either sink or swim. I hope we somehow manage to keep our heads above water. "The future comes, one day at a time."

GASOLINE ALLEY & THE 50'S DINER

2011-09-19T03:11:00.008-04:00

On a recent trip, out of town, we discovered this little eatery. It was chock full of surprises. Inside was a museum with tons of Vintage things. Here is a peek at some of what we saw.

A replica of an old filling station.

A school Crossing Guard

A Wurlitzer Jukebox

A Mechanical Pony

Remember Betty Boop?

A couple of Elvis costumes

(click on them for a better look)

A Howdy Doody puppet

And an autographed photo of the most famous Mouseketeer, Annette

They also have slot car races in the museum. I forgot to take a picture of that.

Then into the diner to sample coleslaw like your mom made

And have their special homemade Ham Dandy sandwich with sweet potato fries for $4.69

We enjoyed the trip down Memory Lane in the museum. The food in the diner was YUMMY. That special sauce really did make the HAM taste dandy. Though, there were a little too many fries... and not enough sandwich, on the plate... IMHO. I guess in the 50's sandwiches were smaller than they are today. Is that how you all remember it? I don't. But that wasn't my biggest complaint. If you're supposed to be Lost in the 50's. Why were they playing music from the 60's, 70's, 80's and 90's? We did not hear one fifties tune the whole time we were there. Shame on you folks. You missed a golden opportunity to bring the experience home for us.

P.S. I'm having trouble getting the photos to center on the page, so I'm leaving it as is.

HIDDEN TREASURE

2011-09-12T22:43:00.006-04:00

This is our cherub. He's a special guy. I placed him in the front yard... sitting in a flowerbed... where I can see him from my patio, night and day. In his hands he holds a golden gazing ball. When the sun glints off the globe it is ethereal. This beautiful cherub once graced the perimeter of a delightful water fountain I had on the property. It was removed, many years ago. At the time, this sweet fella had been tipped over and accidently buried beneath all the dirt. He had gone missing for about 8-10 years. I had forgotten he was there, until I saw an arm exposed. Fortunately the ball was hidden away inside the house, protected from the elements, sitting in my kitchen, inside another container. It had become such a fixture in my life, as it was... that I failed to recall where the ball had originated. It gave me such joy to rescue this piece of statuary. It brings me a real sense of calm when I am weary of everyday rhetoric. It offers me peace and serenity, where there was none. It will be at my house for many years to come. This time... appreciated and loved. Here are some photos of the other cherubs I've seen around town. And one Angel. You can click on them for a closer look. ENJOY! Have you ever found a hidden treasure in your yard or at your house? Share your story in my comment section. I'll see you back here on the 23rd with a new blog post.

WHERE WERE YOU?

2011-09-08T01:13:00.005-04:00

My emotions are still raw. Talking about it is difficult. The event haunted me for days, weeks, months and yes, even years. I think it would have been different if we were home. I have a support system here. But at the time... we were living in a rented house in Indiana, about an hour from Chicago. I didn’t know anybody there except the landlords. They worked odd shifts and were seldom home. And to tell you the truth, they sometimes acted a little strange. So even though they lived right next door, we kept our distance. There was no other house on the street or neighbors. Since my husband had such a long commute, to and from the office… this left me to fend for myself, for hours on end. I kept busy blogging. He took I-94 to drive to work. I didn’t know where he turned off to head for the plant. But I knew that route would take him right past the Sears Tower. “Standing at 1,450 feet and 110 stories high, it is the tallest building in the western hemisphere.” (It’s now called The Willis Tower.) When I saw the images on TV that morning... I immediately thought we were at WAR. But with who? It was frightening. The World Trade Center, The Twin Towers. The Pentagon. Shanksville, Pennsylvania. There seemed to be no end in sight. Where would they strike next? I collapsed in a heap on the floor and began to cry. Then I prayed. I had no way to get a hold of my husband, who was in route to his job. I was worried The Sears Tower would be another target. And, I was afraid that he’d get caught in the aftermath and carnage that would occur if it were hit. Gripped with fear, I monitored the unfolding crisis by getting online and continuing to look at the TV. I watched and waited, glued to my chair. I could not believe this was really happening. Not here. Not on our soil. I went through the hours in slow motion. I couldn’t imagine actually being in New York, Virginia, Pennsylvania or D.C. The telephone startled me. It was my husband, at long last. He was safe. We commiserated. He said he would try to get back to me... in Indiana, as soon as he could. In the meantime… he wanted me to stay put. He knew I was by myself, alone in a strange place. I was terrified by the notion. I didn’t want to hang up the phone and lose contact. I have never been more scared in my whole life. I didn’t know what to do. I felt like we were right smack dab in the middle of a bad Horror or Disaster movie. This was AMERICA’S WORST NIGHTMARE, REALIZED. Planes crashing. Fires raging. Buildings collapsing. Dust clouds filling the streets. People jumping to their deaths or running for their lives. It seemed like the end of the world. All that mayhem. I will NEVER forget and neither should you. “Let’s roll.”

PS) If you haven’t read 9/11 Survivor, Lauren Manning’s book Unmeasured Strength. Check it out at the library or pick up a copy. Here is a description of the book.
“ On 9/11, good fortune was no match for catastrophe. When a wall of flame at the World Trade Center burned more than 80 percent of her body, Lauren Manning began a ten-year journey of survival and rebirth that tested her almost beyond human endurance. Long before that infamous September day, Manning learned the importance of perseverance, relentless hard work, and a deep faith in oneself. So when the horrific moment of her near-death arrived, she possessed the strength and resilience to insist that she would not yield—not to the terrorists, not to the long odds, not to the bottomless pain and exhaustion. But as the difficult months and years went by, she came to understand that she had to do more than survive. She needed to undergo a complete transformation, one that would allow her to embrace her life and her loved ones in an entirely new way. Fleeing the burning tower, Manning promised herself that she would see her son's face again. Courageous and inspiring, Unmeasured Strength tells the riveting story of her heroic effort to make that miracle—and so many others—possible.”

Here is a link to buy the book from Amazon. Or just click on the site, to read the reviews of the book. They are at the bottom of page if you want to know more about it. http://www.amazon.com/Unmeasured-Strength-Lauren-Manning/dp/0805094636/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1315456122&sr=1-1

A CRABBY BIRTHDAY

2011-09-02T01:12:00.001-04:00

We're CELEBRATING my husband's birthday this Labor Day weekend with 1/2 a bushel of Maryland Steamed Crabs. Since we're going to be be busy picking and eating... I'll be back next weekend to blog.

LET'S CELEBRATE A BLOGIVERSARY

2011-08-26T00:20:00.011-04:00

I love writing. If I don’t put pen to paper... it eats a big empty hole in my heart. That is why I always carry a 5 x7 notebook everywhere I go... or my XOOM, or a netbook computer. I was born to do this writing thing. Got paid to do it... once upon a time. Even the epitaph on my tombstone alludes to this passion. So... it logically follows, that blogging, became a natural extension of my writing. My blog will be TWO years old in a couple days. HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, TARYTERRE. Or should I say HAPPY BLOGIVERSARY? It seems like I’ve been around much longer than TWO years, doesn’t it? I’m so proud of what I’ve done here. I like sharing my adventures with you on a weekly basis. And, I enjoy reading your comments. I love each and every one of my blog buddies, too. All of you... have really made a BIG difference in my life. Without realizing it, you’ve become family. I can’t imagine... a day, a week, or a month going by... without me checking in... to read your blogs, to see how you’re all doing? I was a lurker back when you had J-Land. I don’t know why I waited so-oo long to join the conversation. Back then... the excuse for not signing up was the fact I had my own website and was preoccupied with that. But... then reality set in. Your move to Blogger from AOL... was the spark that really kicked my rear in gear. I was afraid I’d lose touch with you all. And I couldn’t bear the thought. So I joined the crowd, as a newbie and forged ahead. And the rest is history. In honor of my anniversary here... I want you to know... I started another blog to compliment this one. Please check it out. It is light-hearted and fun. And should bring a smile to your lips, at least some of the time. I will post on it, randomly. For those of you who might be interested... It's called SCOOTER LADY RIDES AGAIN. Here is the link. http://scooterladyridesagain.blogspot.com/ And of course... I will be right here, keeping TARYTERRE going strong. Look for my new posts, to appear at the end of each week... on either Fridays, Saturdays or Sundays. What day I update... depends on my schedule. If you'd like to take a trip down memory lane... feel free to browse my previous columns. You might note... that I always post the same story, with variations... every Christmas, so I can spend time relaxing with my hubby, daughters and grandchildren... instead of blogging. Not to slight you, but the truth is... for the past two, actually three years... we really have seen all those deer in the neighborhood, on or around the holiday. I kid you not. So it is fitting I repeat the story. Truth is stranger than fiction. Thanks for the memories, dear internet friends. I hope we’ll make many more, in the years ahead.

P.S. For those of you that participated in the comment section of my last blog WHAT FOOD IS IT? Time is up. I hope you had fun. I got a kick out of your answers. You all had GOOD guesses and most of the ingredients. But nobody GOT it entirely right. So I can’t hand out bragging rights or kudos. Are you ready? The FOOD in question had cheese, sour cream, chives, onions, tomatoes, bacon and the SECRET ingredient is MASHED POTATOES. This particular dish is called a TWICE BAKED MASHED POTATO BOWL. And it is so-ooo yummy. Especially on a cool autumn, or winter day. Were you surprised?

WHAT FOOD is IT? MAKE A GUESS.

2011-08-19T00:21:00.011-04:00

When I’m looking for comfort food that I don’t make at home… I go to my favorite carryout restaurant and buy this particular dish. It warms the cockles of my heart and tastes yummy. I thought it might be fun for you to guess WHAT FOOD is IT? (See the photograph. Click on it to get a better look. It might help.) The first person that guesses it right on my comment page, where it is date stamped, will win bragging rights. I will post the answer... with kudos to the winner... in my comment section, at the end of next week. Meanwhile, check back from time to time to see what others think. It could get interesting. I am really curious to see if any of you can guess WHAT FOOD it IS? You might be surprised or maybe, it's just too obvious. What do you think? Make a guess.

HAVE YOU EVER TRIED THESE?

2011-08-12T01:58:00.014-04:00

MUSSELS

INGREDIENTS

3- 4 LBS live mussels

2 cups white wine (sweet or dry, your preference)

2 or 3 bunches scallions (rough chop green & white parts)

3 or 4 cloves garlic (finely chopped)

half a bunch of curly parsley (rough chop)

1 and 1 half sticks of butter

salt to taste (I don’t use any)

Italian Bread to sop up broth on plate, once served

*For a TWIST you can add stewed tomatoes, if you like

DIRECTIONS

Rinse and scrub mussels.

*They must be closed. Throw away any wide open ones.

Remove beards with scissors or knife and discard

(when you see one you’ll know WHAT it is)

In a large stockpot melt butter

Add wine, scallions, parsley, garlic, salt

Simmer for 5 or 6 minutes

Add mussels. Cover and increase heat to high

Cook 5 minutes or until mussels open up

Imeadiately remove from heat

With a ladle or large spoon remove mussels from pot and put into a BIG bowl

Pour juice, at bottom of pot, over top of mussels

Place on plates

EAT and ENJOY

THE SCOOP

2011-08-05T12:31:00.005-04:00

Nothing in my house is straightforward. We make a BIG deal out of everything. I am married to an engineer. Everything, seriously… every little thing has to be analyzed and investigated. For instance… I wanted an ice cream cone the other day. I hadn’t had one, at home, in years. I had some Haagen Daz Mango Sorbet in the freezer. I usually eat it in a little serving dish or directly from the carton, because nobody likes it, but me. But a sugar cone… full of heavenly delight… begged for me, at that exact moment. The trouble was… I didn’t have an ice cream scoop. So I jumped in the car and went to our Meijers Superstore. I was surprised. They only had a small selection to choose from. I narrowed it down to two. But they were very different. One was totally plastic and the other used the entire handle as a lever. I took a picture of both on my cellphone and texted it to my husband. I asked the question, "Which has the better mechanism and will last the longest?"

He thought the one using the handle as the lever would be difficult to scoop with. And, he also complained... the one that was all plastic, was just cheap construction. Truth be told… he didn’t like either of them. But he said he’d get back to me. So I waited. What I didn’t know was that he had headed to Walmart. About ten minutes later I began receiving text messages. They included photos of the ice cream scoops he had found there. Like me… he had narrowed it down to two.

First a Paula Deen scoop. Paula’s looked pleasing. I could imagine myself scooping out a dip or two of ice cream with it, like she does on TV. I was happy to see the lever itself was metal. However the rotating part of the mechanism was plastic, as was the handle. So I put my feelings about it on hold.

Then I saw the second scoop, he picked, by Oneida. It looked solid. It looked professional. It was all-metal except for the rotating part. However, my husband felt the scoop as a whole had been engineered better than the others. And he felt it would last, unlike the ones I had shown him. So the scoops I had been looking at were now ruled out. We had been furiously texting back and forth about all of this. So I stopped and actually called my husband. We needed to make a choice. What was the cost of the two scoops he had in hand? He told me Paula’s was about $10. And the Oneida one was closer to $8.50. Decision made. I was sold.We went with the Oneida. Sorry Paula. My hubby was home in a flash, proud of his purchase. I got there a short time later. And I’m happy to say my craving for a homemade ice cream cone was satisfied at last. Mango Sorbet never tasted so good.

BEWARE OF STRANGERS AT DOOR

2011-07-29T15:41:00.010-04:00

Recently there was an incident, locally, that gave me cause to pause. An elderly woman, not much older than my husband, answered her front door. The young man that stood before her wanted to use her telephone. She politely told him he couldn’t and proceeded to shut the door. He barged in, beating her to a pulp and began ransacking her house, stealing what he could carry. Luckily the poor lady escaped with her life, bloody and bruised. The moral to this story is not to answer the door to strangers. I’m in tune with this philosophy. The other day, around 2:30 in the afternoon, my doorbell rang. I peaked through the blinds, outside. It was a couple of young guys in an old dilapidated red truck, whose attire had seen better days. One of them was leaning on my doorbell for sport. My 35 year old daughter wanted to answer it. I insisted she didn’t. After about 10 minutes there was silence. So I assumed he left with his buddy. I slowly opened my door to check, just in time to see the pair of them... speed away, laughing. I wondered what was so funny? Good Riddance. No doubt they were looking for work. Since I only hire help, I know something about, they were out of luck. I thought this was the end of the story. I was wrong. It was garbage day at my house and the can was still out at the curb. I had heard the trash collector’s truck come by earlier that morning, so I knew it was empty. Usually I let my husband get it, but I thought I’d be nice and do it for him. Meanwhile, my daughter was leaving for the store. She anxiously called me from her cellphone on her way to her car. She gave me a heads up about what I’d find at the end of my driveway. I went out to see for myself. Sitting there on the curb, next to the trashcan was a large empty box of Contractor Crack Sealant and a half full bucket of gravel. Inside the can were a couple of big bags, stuffed with what I assumed were empty containers from McDonalds. Also on the side of the road was a pile of dead tree branches. I live in a nice residential neighborhood. The township would pick up the branches, but what about the garbage? I couldn’t believe it.The guys in the red truck had indeed left their calling card. No wonder they were laughing. Their trash was in my front yard and in my garbage can. The NERVE of some people. I wanted to call the police... my husband said not to. He told me... I would be overreacting. I want to know... how are you supposed to react... to such a thing? Seriously. Tell me.

CARTOON & TOMATO SOUP HEADBOARDS

2011-07-21T17:30:00.008-04:00

I am a terrible traveler. All the packing and lugging of suitcases is just too much trouble. I hate it. When my husband worked for a large corporation, years ago… I would accompany him on most all of his business trips. Back then, we lived out of suitcases. I was in my twenties. It was great fun. I found joy in each stop made. I embraced the fancy décor of the room or suite I was in, and made myself right at home. But with no access to a car, after he left for his meetings… I would have to make casual conversation when the maid showed up. Talk about awkward. Then I would spend the rest of my days lounging around the pool, ordering room service and watching cable TV. (this was before we had it at home) I know. It was a tough job, but someone had to do it. Later, in the evenings… my hubby and I would explore, the sights and sounds, of whatever town we happened to be in. It was a good life. But traveling isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It gets boring after a while. And I get bored easily…. not to mention the fact, I hate being cooped up. So I stopped going with him. I said it was to tend to the children and their needs. The truth was, I had had enough of motels. Once the kids grew up and left the house… guess what? I found myself back on the road with my husband. Older this time around, I found the pleasure in each opportunity. Living in motels became a way of life. But when that big corporate job ended… due to age discrimination… my husband scrambled to find a new one. It took a while, but he eventually found a position with a small startup company. They didn’t have the money to be gallivanting all over the country… so business trips, like the ones he was accustomed to, faded from memory. That is until recently. With a product now ready for market… my husband has begun to travel for his job, once again. A few weeks ago he had to go to Wisconsin for business. He asked me to tag along. I graciously declined. It’s a good thing. It was near impossible for him to find a room. Everywhere he looked was booked solid. He ended up staying in Menomonee Falls. It’s within driving distance to Milwaukee. The Radisson Hotel there was new. They had a room available and they were running a special deal if you booked it online. AMAZINGLY… their rates were cheaper than most of the other places, he had looked at. Because rooms were scarce elsewhere… he jumped at this one before someone else gobbled it up. Beggars can’t be choosers. Poor baby. No roughing it, like we do at home. I was jealous. The Radisson. Should have gone with him. On the other hand… he was surprised at what he found in the room. The décor was unlike anything he had ever seen in all his years of traveling. Think Andy Warhol. Pictures of Tomato Soup Cans, Movie Posters and Cartoons decorated the headboards. Modern lamps, unusual faucets and contemporary carpet completed the look. According to the hotel, the decor had an URBAN theme. I’m glad I didn’t go. I would have felt like a fish out of water in that atmosphere. I want to feel like I’m in a home away from home when I travel. I need the setting to be comfy, cozy. This URBAN stuff would have made me feel a tad bit uncomfortable. The hubby on the other hand… hunkered down for his stay on the company dime and got to like it. What do you think?

A LAKE VIEW & ANNIVERSARY

2011-07-15T23:22:00.012-04:00

We went to the lake to celebrate our anniversary.
Here are some images from our outing.

Old fashioned lamps, fresh flowers and pretty bird shaped salt and pepper shakers... were on every single table, at the restaurant... we ate lunch in. It was in an old Victorian house. (I forgot to take a picture of it) We could have eaten out on the verandah... but, it was so hot outside, we opted for the air conditioning and romantic decor inside. We ordered crabcakes... covered in Remoulade Sauce. They were to die for. So scrumptious. I want to eat there everyday. The perfect location and atmosphere.

The winds were calm, the sun was shining, temps were in the 80's. Everybody was out on the water having fun. Some were boating. Others were fishing. We were taking photos.

My hubby down at the docks on the water's edge.

More photos of the gorgeous sky and colorful boats.

A refreshing glass of water to quench our thirst before heading home. Love that lemon and sprig of fresh mint, per my request.

"Sunrise.Sunset. Swiftly flow the days..."

TIRED OF MEN'S WORK

2011-07-08T22:00:00.003-04:00

When I went out to eat at Panera Bread last week... I noticed a roofing nail embedded in my back left tire. It wasn’t flat but it concerned me. I wondered where I had picked it up. Twice this year we had to have AAA come out to the house to fix flats in my husband’s van. Fortunately no emergencies were involved. In both cases they were able to put a plug in the tire to fix it. They can only do that if the foreign object is on the face of the tire where it hits the road. If the problem is in the sidewall of the tire, they can’t repair it. This back left tire could probably be plugged, but the tires have some serious miles on them. So rather than wait for a slow leak to develop from the puncture, we opted to just replace the tire. The local tire store didn’t have our kind in stock. According the manager of the place, the new tires would have to be special ordered. He couldn’t predict when they’d come in. But he’d give us a call. My husband couldn’t take off work, so the deal was, I’d have to handle it. My husband usually takes care of all car business. Inevitably when I handle such things... something always goes wrong... and my husband ends up getting a frantic call... usually at the most inopportune time... with me screaming, "HELP". But we were cautiously optimistic, this time, things would be pretty straightforward. So... when the tires finally came in... I took my van in at the designated time. They told me it would take approximately 45 minutes to do the job. First, they had to pull the old tires off the rear and toss them. Then, as per my husbands request… they would put the front tires on the back of the van, and the new tires on the front. This confused me, but made sense to all of them. Go figure. They told me to have a seat in the waiting room. It consisted of rows of uncomfortable folding chairs and tables scattered throughout their showroom. I was one of two women in the place. The rest were men. I felt like a fish in a fishbowl. On each table was an assortment of testosterone related reading material and nothing else. IMAGINE that? It made me a tad bit uncomfortable. Thank goodness for my Droid smartphone. I was easily able to access my Kindle and read something a bit more to my liking. Plus... it kept me occupied. I was surprised when the shop guy called my name and said they were finished. Thank goodness the time passed quickly. With the new tires... now on the van, I was able to go on my way, and leave this stifling environment behind. I'm TIRED of men's work.

THE CELL PHONE vs THE LAND-LINE

2011-07-01T18:35:00.005-04:00

After he invented the telephone… it has been said that Alexander Graham Bell thought the contraption was a disruption. Therefore he did NOT have one in his office. I do not know if that is true, I read it somewhere online. But can you imagine what he would think today. We are connected at all times. We carry a telephone everywhere we go, disruption or not. When my daughter took out her land-line and opted for cellular service only, my husband applauded the move. He thinks having both is redundant and a big waste of money. He wants to do the same thing here at our house. And… I have my hands full keeping him from doing it. My arguments against it, are weak, at best. But one got his attention. I’m concerned my daughter took her land-line out because with two young children, at home... and just the cell phones in use, what happens in an emergency situation if both parents are gone with their phones. How do the kids call for help? It makes for a bad scenario if you ask me. I’m sure they have a contingency plan in place that I don’t know about, but still, it’s worrisome. The truth is I love my house phone. I’m not ready to give it up. The memories of talking to the operator to place a call, spending teenage years with the phone glued to my ear, endless holidays and special occasions celebrated with relatives from afar with the telephone cord stretched out as far as it could go… play in my head. Having it is like having a security blanket. I’ve always had it. The footprint of a land-line is larger than a cell phone. The keys are enormous. I can read it without my glasses. I know where it is… secured to the wall in the kitchen. Or sitting next to the bed in the bedroom. If the lights go out I don’t have to dig through my purse looking for it in the dark, which is where my cell phone would be. Furthermore, if the power goes out, the land-line still works. My cell phone might need to be charged and if I can’t do that, tell me what good are all the fancy things it does. So for now, I’m winning the war. The land-line stays. But my husband insists it is obsolete. When he decides to retire and we’re reduced to living on Social Security, things are going to have to change. He’s already told me, the house phone aka land-line will be the very first thing to go. So I guess I better get used to the idea. But I can tell you... the thought of it, doesn’t make me happy. Am I spoiled or what?

THE XOOM, I'M IN LOVE

2011-06-24T17:02:00.010-04:00

Technology has gobsmacked me, once again. Portable and lightweight... I now own a device that does the most complicated things at the mere touch of a finger. But what absolutely delights me is one of it’s basic capabilities. It’s backlit. Which means... at night with the lights out… totally in the dark, in the palm of my hands… wherever I choose, I can now get online... or simply read whatever book I pick... from my extensive Kindle library. Only I’m not using a computer or a Kindle. I’m using a tablet called the XOOM. This 3G/WiFi Motorola device features the Droid operating system, like my smart-phone, only it‘s bigger. Bigger is better people. Especially at my age. Makes reading much easier. It’s about the size of a hardback book or a netbook computer. With this tablet I can get online anywhere. However, the surface is very reflective... almost too much to use it outdoors. But who cares. Unlike most people... it’s the reading part, at night or in low light, that has me enamored. The XOOM comes loaded with Google Books. But I downloaded the Kindle App because I have an account with Amazon. It shows the book jackets in color, so I can discern one from another, easily. That’s something Kindle doesn’t do. In a very short time... this device has changed my life. I like reading in bed. Since I was a small child, I’ve read in the dark using a flashlight. Back when I was a kid... I did it so I wouldn't disturb my grandma. We shared a room. These days I do it, so I don’t wake my husband. Now I can read my books... or surf the net, to my hearts content... and not bother anybody with a bright light. I LOVE this XOOM. It’s mesmerizing. We were looking to update and replace our laptop computer... and got this tablet instead. I'm so glad. The laptop is passe. Tablets are the future. iPad look out, there’s competition on your heels. On the other hand... this could just be the latest fad. I guess time will tell.

RESTAURANT BECAME A PARKING LOT

2011-06-17T11:49:00.003-04:00

If you asked what my favorite soup is, I would have to say LEMON CHICKEN. But if you're hungry for it...the nearest place to get it, without donning a chef's hat or opening a can, is now approximately an hour away from my house. FURGETABOUT IT! Once you’ve had the best it can’t be duplicated. The only place that served the best here in town had a fire. Ain't nothing being fixed in that kitchen from this day forward. And that's a crying shame. Years ago, when we moved here... the building that housed that restaurant, used to be an ice cream parlor. My favorite ice cream is BLACK RASPBERRY and they were the only place in town that carried it. Needless to say, I had a particular fondness for this location. So when the ice cream parlor closed down, unable to stay afloat... I diverted my loyalty to the new Greek restaurant, that took it's place and their Lemon Chicken Soup. But thoughts of summer nights... and eating ice cream treats in waffle cones, with our little girls, remained each time we went inside. Time marched on and everything changed. DREAMS DASHED. LIVELIHOODS LOST. As the bulldozers descended outside the remnants of our favorite old eatery… my spouse and I sat in a parked car, watching the demolition of the burnt out structure, eating a couple of soft serve vanilla cones from McDonalds. We pretended the past, hadn't caught up to the present… as this place we loved, and all the memories we shared there... became nothing more than a GIANT parking lot.

CHARTREUSE SNEAKERS

2011-06-10T16:29:00.003-04:00

They jumped off the display shelf, into my field of vision, two seconds after I made my grand entrance into the store. Placed there by design to draw attention, they captured mine. I whispered, "How about a future in my closet?" Against the backdrop of ordinary colors, these particular shoes stirred a passion deep within. The old standards… white, taupe, navy, black, and saddle brown, just couldn't hold a candle. My heart was racing, my palms were sweaty and I knew looking at the pair on display wasn't enough. It was time to get serious. The question was, did they have them in my size? Goosebumps began forming on my upper arms. Grabbing the shoes off the display, I started the search. I found a salesclerk to help me with this investigation. "Follow me," she said. And off we went through rows and rows of shoes stacked six foot high. Further and further we got from the front of the store, twisting and winding ourselves through the maze of boxes. "Here! Here they are," she smiled. "Shall I let you rummage through the sizes on the boxes or would you like me to do it?" Convinced she wouldn't find my size, I consented to allow her a cursory look before diving in myself. But amazingly she pulled a 6w from the pile almost immediately. "Here they are. Chairs are over against the wall if you want to try them on. I'll be up front if you need me." My hands trembled as we made the exchange. She got her display model back and I got the prize. I hesitated just a moment before opening the box. I hoped I wouldn't be disappointed. I carefully unwrapped the tissue paper. There they were, lying side by side. I sat there gazing at them affectionately. A big grin spread across my face. "I like you. I really like you." Without fanfare or further ado… first one, then the other slid on my feet. They fit perfectly. And felt so-ooo comfortable. Enamoured by my find, I carefully packed them back in the box. This new addition to my closet would be there every morning saying hello, to get the drab out of each day. Chartreuse colored sneakers. Imagine that. They made my day.

A DINNER VICTORY

2011-06-03T16:57:00.004-04:00

Now that the sun is shining well into the night sky, my hubby and I got a little cabin fever. We had been eating at home everyday for weeks. We decided to splurge a little and go out to Ruby Tuesday’s for dinner out. As online members of their website, they sent us a special coupon for 25% off whatever we ordered. It expired at the end of the month. Perfect timing. May 31st was upon us. So we got in the van and headed up to the restaurant to use it. The place was bustling with people. They seated us at a table near a window with a view of the parking lot. We hunkered down and began scanning the menu. Lots of yummy things to choose from. I usually get the Asian Grilled Salmon. But since we had lobster at home, for my birthday... we decided to just do burgers. My hubby ordered the Triple Prime Burger with cheddar cheese and I got the Boston Blue, medium rare. We opted out of the salad bar and ordered sides of mashed potatoes and grilled zucchini. They served biscuits while we were waiting for the meal . We devoured them. We had not eaten all day. When dinner finally arrived, we cleaned our plates. Everything was delicious. The waitress asked if we wanted dessert and we told her NO, we had leftover birthday cake at home. So she left the bill. My hubby put the coupon with his credit card in the folder and handed it to her. After a while, she returned with the paperwork to sign. She then told us she FORGOT to deduct the coupon. She said she rang the transaction up before she saw it, so we would have to use the coupon at a later date. We told her we couldn’t do that because it expired that night. She said there was nothing she could do. My husband suggested we talk to the manager. That got her rear in gear. But she was really aggravated with us. Why couldn’t we just pay for it, as is, without the discount. She felt slighted. This was really inconveniencing her. My husband and I looked at each other. She’s the one who messed up to begin with, by running the credit card without including the discount. I daresay Ruby Tuesday’s intended for us to use the coupon when they sent it to us. And that’s all we were trying to do. Eventually, the waitress returned... still in a bit of a huff. But... she brought us the corrected bill, minus the 25% off. My husband signed it... and off we headed for home, smiling at the small victory... and, an interesting evening out.

MY BIRTHDAY IS A HOLIDAY

2011-05-27T12:07:00.000-04:00

When I was a little girl I thought I was pretty special. My birthday was on a National Holiday. Memorial Day. The name was formally changed from Decoration Day to Memorial Day in 1882. Way before my time. But I remember my Nana calling it that. The purpose of the day was to honor the memory of those who gave their lives fighting for America. When I grew up, Patriotic Nationalism dominated this country. Flags flew everywhere. Parades and military marching bands entertained. Those that died in service to our nation were revered. Back then, Memorial Day was always celebrated on May 30^th.until Congress stuck their two cents in. They officially moved it from it’s traditional date, to the last Monday in May. This then gave the holiday a three day weekend. WHOOPEE! It eventually grew to become the start of the summer vacation season. Today the true meaning of the holiday is lost on most people. So during the Memorial Day weekend… folks now gather to getaway to the beach, amusement parks or wherever. They grill out, go shopping, watch the Indianapolis 500 or baseball, etc. Some will decorate the graves of loved ones, whether they’ve been in the military or not. And in the midst of it all… I will do what I do every year at this time. Hang out the flag and celebrate being another year older. No other BIG plans in the works. Though I must admit, my mouth is watering at the thought of the butter crème frosting that will be on my cake. And the lobster that will be on my plate.

A CHANCE MEETING

2011-05-20T17:01:00.000-04:00

The weather was dismal outside. Dark and foreboding. I decided to go somewhere warm and inviting. I wanted to pick up a few groceries and scan the shelves at Meijer’s for the latest bestsellers. I love reading the dust jackets. I was looking forward to doing this. So I ducked inside the superstore just as a large clap of thunder bellowed and the raindrops turned into a downpour. Heading to the book aisle, closing my umbrella… imagine my surprise to see a familiar face. There stood my thirty-seven year old daughter, browsing the cookbook section. Even though we live in the same town, I seldom get to see her. Since she got a new job, she works second shift, at the hospital from 2:30 pm - 10:30 pm. And her husband works third shift. So visits between us, are few and far between. She’s always busy. Yet here she was. I was so tickled. She was thrilled to see me too. We gave each other a big hug and kiss, as the rain torpedoed the roof. Smiling like a couple of school kids, we chatted about anything and everything as we navigated our way around the store. It was wonderful to be together like this. She and her husband had just moved into a new house, so she was telling me all about it. ( It just so happens we're scheduled to see it this weekend.) So... she was here at the store getting a few things she needed to make the place feel more like home. Since we both were looking for new dishtowels… she pointed out the ones on sale for $1.99, half off their regular price. They were MORE thirsty, than the others, she thought... I thought the same thing. Like mother, like daughter. The spontaneity of the afternoon made for a perfect day, as the wicked storm raged outside. Simple pleasures mean a lot.

STUCK IN THE MUD

2011-05-13T15:38:00.010-04:00

It had been raining non-stop for days. Finally a break in the weather appeared... so the race was on, to cut the grass. It would be the first cutting of the season. Ankle deep, the job needed to get done before the rain started up again. Wouldn’t you know it, the lawnmower battery was dead. This meant I had to jumpstart it. To do that... I had to rearrange the cars in the driveway, so I could position one close enough to the lawnmower, which was buried inside the garage. I also needed to make room on that driveway apron, for the lawnmower... once it was ready to go. So I got in my STRATUS. This was the first time I’ve driven it since the automobile accident, a month or more ago. I hastily backed out of the driveway and pulled it into the grassy Boulevard, where we park during the summer, which is opposite my house. That’s when I got a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach. My tires had sunk into mud, about 8 inches deep. I couldn’t believe it. I wanted to scream. I guess I should have known better, because of the wet weather. That car must be jinxed? I left it there. No time for a hissy-fit. I’d deal with it after I got the battery of the lawnmower running. I used the van to jumpstart it. It took about 45 minutes to cut the grass, once the mower was up and running. Thank goodness our lawn wasn't as soft and muddy, as the Boulevard. With that job behind me... I needed to address the car in the mud, out there... before the thunderstorms rolled in, and made a bigger mess. I called AAA. They immediately sent someone here to tow the car back out to the street, where I could get traction. Thank goodness my membership covers such things. Car’s now gingerly sitting in the driveway, anticipating my next move. I’m NOT touching it. Too scared of what’ll happen next? Meanwhile, since I've made HUGE ruts in the Boulevard.... they are going to need to be filled in with topsoil and later, grass seed. Those bags of dirt and seed weigh 50 lbs. Not an easy task for this old timer. But one I'm going to have to tackle soon. It's always something.

BRAGGING RIGHTS & HORSES

2011-05-06T21:44:00.008-04:00

BLOG BUDDIES- BELOW IS A STORY I POSTED A YEAR AGO. READ & ENJOY. I'LL BE BACK NEXT WEEK WITH A NEW BLOG ENTRY. SEE YOU THEN. FONDLY, TERRE

I’m not a gambling woman. You won’t find me frequenting casinos or playing poker. Betting is out of my league, except for the occasional lottery ticket. No use throwing good money after bad. But three times a year… from the beginning of May until early June… we get a hankering for horses, at our house. This historic sport dominates our weekends. We become glued to the television set watching The Kentucky Derby, The Preakness and Belmont Stakes. You see horse racing is in my blood. My dear departed grandfather was more than familiar with a race track. He used to play the ponies, in years gone by. An admirable hobby. One of my earliest memories... is seeing him with a pencil, stuffed behind his ear, and a racing form in his hand. Just like him… my hubby and I try to pick the ponies, the day of the races. Instead of relying on the newspaper, like grandpa used to do… we scour the Internet looking for details on the horses, their owners, trainers and jockeys. We compile the data, print out the odds, and pick our favorites for the big day. We're in it, to WIN... but NO CASH exchanges hands. We do this for BRAGGING RIGHTS only. And we do it for FUN. On Derby Day, I follow tradition and wear a hat, downing a cocktail or two. But please... no Mint Julips, we hate them. Sorry Kentucky. During The Preakness, I lament about Black-Eyed Susans not really being in season. They use daisies with painted centers. My heart aches when I hear Maryland, My Maryland… it reminds me of home. Then, we anxiously wait to see the weathervane on top of the Old Clubhouse Replica, get painted with the winner’s colors. When The Belmont Stakes finally rolls around, a few weeks later... we already know... whether or not, there’s a contender for The Triple Crown. And we know... that this is the last leg of the season, for us... so we can’t help being a little melancholy, as we belt out the lyrics to New York, New York. This is it. Game On! “Start spreading the news”… “ To the VICTOR go the spoils“… to the LOSER… there’s always Horse Racing next year.

WORRIED, STRESS TEST

2011-04-27T18:35:00.004-04:00

My husband is stressed out, BIG TIME. He’s scheduled to have a chemical Stress Test this week. Because of his back and leg problems he can’t do the one on the treadmill. For months he’s been pacing the floor with worry over it. He’s mad at the doctor for insisting he have this procedure. He’s convinced he’s going to have a heart attack during it... and end up being admitted to the hospital. Or worse yet, he’s afraid he’ll die right there on the table. Part of it, is due to the fact, he’s heard stories about other men, who have had complications, during or following a Stress Test. He’s positive he’s going to join their ranks. Couple this with the fact… he just had a really scary, unpleasant experience, less than a month ago. Remember, his veins infiltrated and he was in excruciating pain for another test, this doctor had requested. Plus, on top of this, he has COPD, which comes with it‘s own set of problems. He just feels the odds are stacked against him. I’m trying to be upbeat and positive, citing the fact it’s a routine procedure and he‘ll be surrounded by doctors and technicians who know their stuff. He reminds me about the mess they made at the last test. So... I keep telling him, that this gut feeling he has... is nothing more than irrational fears. But between you and I… there’s also a little voice inside me, telling me not to take his dire predictions for granted. In this great big game of life, nothing is certain. You just never know. So I’m saying my prayers and hoping for the best.

HAPPY EASTER! HAPPY SPRING!

2011-04-21T21:21:00.000-04:00

Flowers are blooming. Birds are chirping. My winter coat has been relegated to the closet. The electric blanket is turned to OFF. Though, I must admit the temps are only in the fifties. The lawnmower needs to be filled with gas and oil, so it’s ready to roll. The neighbors have already beaten us to the punch by cutting their grass. I think spring has finally sprung. Suddenly I’m craving PEEPS, gourmet jellybeans, white chocolate bunnies and hard boiled eggs. It must be Easter too. A time to REJOICE, and a time for RENEWAL. And a time to INDULGE in just a little bit of candy. Of course I can’t forget to decorate the eggs. My hubby and I always look forward to adorning the eggs with a splash of color and simple designs. We’re kids at heart. Makes eating them much more fun, later in the week. Meanwhile, I’m still trying to decide what’s on the menu for Sunday dinner. I grew up having ham and yams on the holiday. And followed that tradition for many moons. But in recent years, I’ve changed it up a bit. We’ve had lamb instead. I love it… but my husband, isn’t as crazy about it, as I would like. So… I’m in a real quandary about whether or not to fix it. My daughter wants turkey. I keep telling her it’s the wrong holiday for that. LOL Maybe we’ll be wild and crazy and have lobster, instead. I’ll figure it out. Seems the Easter Bunny has tons of work to do, to get ready for the big day. Baskets, loaded with goodies, still need to be distributed to the grandchildren, among a long list of other things. HAPPY EASTER to you and yours.

TWO CENTS WORTH OF WHITE DIAMONDS

2011-04-16T13:02:00.002-04:00

Let me stick my two cents worth in here. It’s not every day you find a bargain, even if you go searching for one. So imagine my complete and utter surprise… when a salesclerk rang up a recent purchase I was making... and the cash register said it was only two cents. You heard me. The beautifully packaged, one fluid ounce, perfume I was buying... cost TWO CENTS. I just about died. There must be some mistake. You can’t buy much of anything for a dollar, these days, much less two cents. The price of the perfume was clearly marked on the outside of the package. It said $19. It was a fancy bottle of Elizabeth Taylor’s WHITE DIAMONDS. I regularly use ANGEL perfume, so I had never tried this type before. And with Taylor's recent death… thought getting it would be a way I could pay homage to the star. You see… she and my father shared a birthday. So... I grew up hearing all about her. Little did I know then, that one day, her highly marketed fragrance would be such a STEAL. According to the clerk, the perfume was a Christmas clearance item that miraculously hadn’t sold until I came along in April. Therefore, it had been marked down and discounted over and over again, as Wal-Mart waited for it to sell. Was I lucky or what? I don’t know what it smells like, though. I may or may not find the scent appealing or even tolerable. Admittedly, at full price it was a bit of a risk to take. But for a measly TWO CENTS… it was worth the experimentation on my part and the bragging rights. This had to be the Sale of the Century. Can you believe it? TWO CENTS.

TRAINS & ME

2011-04-09T14:41:00.004-04:00

Dreaming of riding the rails, I laid awake all night long listening to the train whistles blow, until the wee hours of the morning. We’re less than a mile from a crossing. There is something mesmerizing about a train as it glides past you. The power and speed are invigorating. Trains provide a chance to connect with the past when this form of transportation dominated. When we lived in Chicago, I had a lot of spare time on my hands and quickly established a daily routine. I would leave the motel and go downtown to the local bookstore to spend the day. Gathering my selection of magazines and books, I would head to their large picture window overlooking the train station. I logged hours just sitting in an overstuffed chair by that window, watching all the trains pull into and out of the station. Seeing people clamor on or off the platform, heading for work or home was intriguing. I became so fascinated by this train activity, that it became a hobby. Since the job in Chicago, designing components for trains, wasn’t permanent for my husband, we headed further east... five years later, to the next job. In this location we still see plenty of trains, but they’re not the same as the ones in the big city. The trains here are built for hauling freight, not people. They're not as interesting. They seem to be lumbering down the tracks at a snails pace, instead of lightening fast. They are old, loaded with graffiti, rust and suffice to say, they’re not much to look at. Nowadays, I get pretty aggravated if traffic is blocked and I have to stop for one… especially if it‘s more than a 10 or 15 minute wait… which in our town is a very frequent occurrence. But why get so upset? History is passing me by. I should stop and pay attention to the stories, these giants of transportation, could tell. While their whistles wailed last night... something inside me, stirred. Maybe my love affair with trains isn’t really over, after all. I'm restless for a ride, to a place I've never been.

THE CHEF AND THE PLUMBER

2011-04-02T15:58:00.006-04:00

My husband happily relinquished his cooking duties, a year or two after we got together. Until that time, he did all the meal preparation… breakfast, lunch and dinner. It wasn’t that I couldn’t cook, he just thought his culinary skills were superior to mine. But more importantly, when he was in the kitchen, he controlled WHAT we ate. And that meant all his favorites and none of mine. When I was finally handed the reins… I knew what he liked and what he didn’t. And slowly I incorporated my own menu items, so we both were happy. However, in all the time I’ve ruled the roost, I have never made his mother’s beef brisket. Mainly because I don’t have her recipe for it. And if I was going to make it, it had to be JUST like hers. PERFECT! I couldn’t live up to the hype. But my husband has never complained about it because I always substituted it with my pot roast, instead. So when I was in the supermarket, thinking pot roast, I happened to see a lone beef brisket, sitting there. I called my husband and told him we were going to try something different. I’m going to buy this cut of meat. Could he remember anything about his mother’s beef brisket? He racked his brain, then said he was going online to search for a recipe. A little later, he called me back and said he was confident he had found one that was authentic Irene. My job was to gather and assemble the ingredients. Once they were accumulated, I was being replaced in the kitchen. His role was to prepare the dish. I was shocked. This was a momentous occasion, marking the first time in thirty years, he would cook a meal, except chili. I was so READY for this. He was noticeably nervous, barking out platitudes when I got home. He started by chopping up 3 lbs of onions, discarding the skins in the garbage disposer as he continued on. Carrots, potatoes, celery, garlic, bay leaves, bouillon and a litany of other TOP SECRET ingredients were added to the mix, along with lots and lots of love, and of course, the beef brisket itself. Soon it was put in the oven at 325 for three and a half hours. My husband was in charge, blissfully happy with his accomplishment, thus far. I was impressed. He had even begun to clean up. That’s when trouble reared it’s ugly head. The kitchen sink was suddenly clogged up. He tried this and that to remedy the situation, but to no avail. Water continued to back up. He couldn’t understand it. A plumber finally had to be called. It was early Saturday afternoon. Dollar signs just got added to the cost of the beef brisket. Remember the onion skins? PRICELESS. Well, actually $200 worth, if you do the plumber's math. You don’t put ‘em down a garbage disposer, ever. But the smell of the brisket wafted up our nostrils. We forgot about the hit to our checkbook. The only consolation was how delicious that brisket tasted, when we took our first bite. It melted in our mouths. My husband proclaimed, “Just like mom made.” He had accomplished the impossible. Amazing.

CAR ACCIDENT

2011-03-26T17:27:00.003-04:00

In shock, with pain radiating across my back and chest, I was taken by ambulance from the scene of the accident to the hospital. My daughter was also transported there. It had started off as a normal day. The two of us had traveled across town to go grocery shopping. After we loaded the car with groceries, my daughter wanted me to make a quick stop at Subway to pick up a breakfast sandwich. They make one with egg whites, so she was craving it. I told her that would be okay. I wasn’t hungry because I had already eaten before we left. I made a split decision to go through downtown, instead of the back way. As I approached the Y intersection going that way, the light was green… but a person had stopped their car and was just sitting there. I had just enough time to slam on my brakes and avoid hitting them. I honked my horn. “ MOVE!” I shouted. Then I pumped my brakes to warn others behind me, we were stopped. I thought to myself, this was going to cause an accident. I looked in my rearview mirror, traffic seemed well behind me. The guy in front of me, still wasn't moving. My daughter said something to me, distracting me from turning on my flashers. Then, the next thing I know... we were thrown forward. BANG! CRASH! Rear-ended. It was at this point… the car in front of me, sped away. UNBELIEVABLE. I had avoided hitting him and now someone had hit me. The minutes that followed are almost a complete blur. As we were loaded into the ambulances, my car was towed from the scene to an undisclosed location. And I briefly thought about all the perishable groceries inside. What a waste. This was the least of my worries. At the hospital, I was given oxygen, hooked up to monitors, IVs. They took vials of blood. They thought I might be having a heart attack. So more tests and then tons and tons of X-Rays. My daughter was going through a similar routine. Fortunately, my husband and other daughter arrived to hold our hands, while we waited for results. All I wanted to do was go home. We had been in the hospital all day long. My prayers were finally answered. First they released my daughter. Then an hour after that, yours truly… got to leave, too. Still shook up, we were nauseous and ached everywhere. But it COULD have been, so much WORSE. What if I had hit the car in front of me, too? Three or four days have passed, and things are slowly getting back to normal, here at home. Unfortunately, I keep reliving the accident, over and over in my head. I hope that in time, that will subside. But, in the meantime... I don’t think I’ll be going near that Y intersection, anytime soon.

MOM SAVED THE DAY

2011-03-19T17:31:00.003-04:00

I have speckled enamel cookware. It’s old fashioned but modern. I chose the Avocado green color. It reminded me of fresh vegetables. I love looking at it. I love cooking with it. I LOVE it period. So when I was in the market for a 5 qt. sauté pan… I exhausted all possibilities, including online… looking for one in that color, to replace the ugly old generic pan I owned. I finally contacted the manufacturer of the speckled enamel pans. Unfortunately they no longer carried it in green. Go figure. I thought I had new cookware, but apparently it was outdated. The company told me they had recently added new colors to their inventory. So I had a decision to make. Which one? Turquoise Blue, Brick Red or Pumpkin Orange. After much debate, I chose the pumpkin. I thought it best complimented the green pieces I already had. My local Wal-Mart carried it for $43. Cha Ching! SOLD! A year has passed since making that purchase. Unfortunately that ugly generic pan never got tossed. It is still in use, along side the speckled enamel one, because I sometimes need to use two big pans, when cooking a meal. But it’s getting really ratty, so out in the garbage it went. I’m now short a pan. So I went on a shopping expedition to get a matching one. Would you believe I can’t find one anywhere. No pumpkin. Does this sound familiar? Remember the problem with the green? A little birdie told me, they’re introducing MORE new colors. Oatmeal Beige, Butter Yellow and Eggplant Purple. The orange is considered passé and will probably be discontinued. This is ridiculous. It’s only a year old. My heart was set on Pumpkin. I casually mentioned this dilemma to my mother, when I was talking to her on the phone, a week ago. She lives on the east coast. She said she’d see what was available there and get back to me. She SAVED the day. Though there was nothing local, she found one on a day-trip she made out of state. She excitedly called to tell me. She said it was my birthday gift. My birthday isn't until May. I was so excited. I told her to hang onto it... until I could make the trip east to get it. I didn’t want her spending a fortune to ship it. Too costly. But being a mom, she knew how important this was to me. UPS arrived the other day with a package full of goodies, including the saute pan. MOM you’re an ANGEL. I love you. I don't have enough words to say THANKS.

LEARN THE HARD WAY

2011-03-12T18:40:00.002-05:00

I don’t drive too far away from home on a weekly basis, but my husband does. He commutes to a daily job and racks up the mileage - about 140 miles per day. The high cost of gasoline is really adding up for him. Me, not so much. But, I trick myself to make my bottom line seem less outrageous. When it goes down a little, about once a week… I’ve been topping my tank, so I don’t keel over from the shock of the final total. My husband, on the other hand, fills up every day or two. So, he’s really seeing the truth and feeling the pinch. Last weekend we were running errands and running low on fuel. We decided to get some gas. We pulled up to the pump and my husband did what he always does. He puts the gas handle in the tank, sets it to automatic, so it starts pumping, and then gets back in the van. I chided him, saying I never do that. He wondered why not. He tells me it’s much more convenient than standing out in the cold, with your hand pulling the lever. I told him I don’t trust it. What’s not to trust? He thinks I’m being silly, making things more difficult than they need to be. I disagree, so we end up talking about something else. My husband glances back at the pump to see if it’s almost done. Then we hear a sound we weren’t expecting. SURPRISE! SURPRISE! The automatic shutoff didn’t work. Gasoline was being pumped everywhere. My hubby jumped out of the van and immediately yanked the handle out of the gas tank. Only then did it trip off. But not before it had spilled three or four gallons of gas around the pump and our vehicle. As a result, my husband ruined a good pair of shoes. I tried not to step in it, myself, when I went inside the station to tell the attendant what had happened. I knew it was a potentially dangerous situation. But the folks in charge weren’t too concerned and said they’d send someone outside to deal with it, later. So we waited and prayed nobody threw a lit cigarette butt on the ground, in the meantime. What a day. My husband had debated the topic of the automatic shutoff with me at nauseam before this happened. Now he was chagrined. To add insult to injury, he had to PAY for the gasoline that spilled. I didn’t say a word.

THE POWER OF WATER

2011-03-05T22:34:00.001-05:00

Mother Nature dumped more precipitation on us again this week. With rising temperatures, it was rain instead of snow. But that only made things worse. As the snow melted and rain poured, local rivers overflowed their banks, leaving widespread flooding throughout our region. It’s wreaking havoc on everyone’s lives. Sump pumps can’t handle all the water in basements and crawlspaces. Traveling around town is a major headache due to streets that are closed. Yards and empty fields look like giant lakes. Some people have lost their houses and cars. It’s a big mess. Fortunately, when we moved here, my hubby made sure we were not purchasing property in the floodplain. So we’re about 60 feet above the river and about half a mile away. Therefore, we haven’t been affected, other than the inconvenience of being rerouted. Still, it’s been dangerous to drive, to and from, a lot of our favorite haunts. Even though you aren’t supposed to drive into standing water, it’s sometimes tempting, if it doesn‘t look like it’s that high. On more than one occasion, we’ve had to back up quite a bit to avoid potential trouble. We’ve seen some pretty strong currents out there... crossing the roadways. A guy in a semi-truck tried to get through one of these flooded areas the last time this happened, and unfortunately, he perished. He and his truck were washed downstream, into a makeshift lake, by a wall of fast moving water. No doubt, he felt like it wasn’t a big deal when he attempted to get through it. Little did he know he'd lose his life. Since that happened, I don’t take any chances. Better to play it safe. Never underestimate the power of water. It’s potent and can be deadly... no matter how serene, beautiful and calm... it may appear.

BRIGHT LIGHTS

2011-02-27T18:39:00.009-05:00

I am not fond of bright lights. I prefer soft, subdued ones. My sixty-year-old home reflects that in every room. Unfortunately, aging has dimmed my husband’s outlook. His eyes ain’t what they used to be, and neither are mine. He’s been complaining for some time now, that it’s way too dark in here. He insists he needs more light. I have been resistant to any change, particularly in my kitchen. I like it the way it is. We have a lamp sitting on our kitchen table and a decorative florescent fixture overhead, plus lights under the kitchen cabinets, over the sink and stove. It’s bright enough. But my husband’s persistent nagging has taken its toll on me. I felt sorry for him. I finally relented and agreed to get a new ceiling light, so he’d shut up. This way we’d take the lamp off the table. He was thrilled. We immediately went looking for ideas at our local home improvement stores. It took us a while to find one we both liked. But there it was, on display at Menards. My husband thought it was perfect. Each cylinder on the fixture held up to a 100 watt bulb. There were four cylinders. Do the math… that’s 400 watts of light. I was mortified. It was going to be too bright. How much light do you really need? My husband agreed to use 60 watt bulbs instead. I conceded. Once that was settled, we purchased the fixture. Little did we know what can of worms we were opening. But the commitment was made. Unfortunately once we got it home, circumstances with my husband’s health prevented its installation. So it sat out in the garage unopened for about six months. Last week, my husband decided he was finally up to the challenge and wanted to tackle the project. He was so excited by the prospect of BRIGHT light, he was willing to overlook anything standing in the way of it. When he took off the old florescent light, he accused me of cutting corners, years before. He suggested we now had a problem because of it. Apparently, eight years ago, I had painted the ceiling, blush beige. I hadn’t taken down the light, that was there. I painted around it. (probably because he wasn't home to remove it) As a result, we now have a large rectangular white spot on the ceiling. What were we going to do about it? Did this mean he couldn’t put up his beloved NEW fixture? I looked at it for a minute and told him, it meant, obviously... we’d have to repaint the ceiling. BUT because of my knees (up and down on a ladder), I couldn’t do it. He wasn’t sure he could either because of his vertigo. That meant budgeting for someone else to do it. We agreed we’d get it done by the month of May. Now, we have to find somebody to do it. In the meantime, my husband put up the new light. It’s beautiful. The only problem is, we now need to get new kitchen cabinets, too. The original ones look so-ooo bad in the brighter light, it isn’t funny. And there ain't enough money to replace them. Guess... we should have left well enough, alone.

THE MRI EXPERIENCE

2011-02-17T20:36:00.003-05:00

My husband has been having trouble with his hearing. He has tinnitus. It is really bad. It is interfering with his daily routine. He can’t concentrate because of all the noise he’s experiencing in his ears (actually in his head), so he decided to do something about it. After seeing two specialists, he thought the next logical step was a hearing aid of some kind. But instead, the doctor ordered an MRI scan of his brain. The purpose of this was to rule out a tumor. My husband took this revelation in stride, but it worried me. In his case, this procedure was scheduled to be given with and without contrast (dye), so the doctor would have a comprehensive, complete picture of what was going on inside his head. My hubby’s a tough guy. He likes to face these things alone. He doesn’t like anyone holding his hand while he‘s getting tests. So he was reluctant to let me go with him while he had this done. But I insisted, and he finally relented. It was agreed I should be there. So off we went to the hospital, early in the morning, to get this out of the way. The paperwork had all been filled out ahead of time, so my husband was whisked into the imaging center almost as soon as we arrived. He should be done in about an hour. I took out my Droid and began reading one of my Kindle books. Time melted away. Too much time. My gut told me something was wrong. I was right. Seems things didn’t go as planned. This first scans without the dye went fine. But when the nurse tried to inject the contrast dye for the second scans, it infiltrated, then collapsed my husband’s veins. He was in excruciating pain. The nurse panicked. She told my husband she had only been doing this job, for a year, and had never seen this happen before. She then called her supervisor. This woman had thirty years of experience under her belt and would know how to handle it. Calmly, the new nurse put an IV in my husband’s other arm and began to add the contrast. Same thing happened. It infiltrated and veins collapsed. More contrast (dye) leaked into my husband’s body. And more excruciating pain. They called a doctor to come take a look. He assured everyone these things happen and not to worry. They inserted another IV in my husband’s hand and tried again. This time… most of, but not all of the contrast, went in before the pattern repeated itself. My husband told them to just run the scan anyway, even though only 70% of the stuff got in. They said the results wouldn’t be accurate. My husband said he didn’t care, he had been poked and prodded enough. What an ordeal? When I finally saw him he looked disheveled and was white as a ghost. He said his back and neck were killing him from laying flat on that table, with his head in a cage for all those hours. Not to mention, both his arms and hand being in discomfort. I felt so sorry for him. His routine test, wasn’t so routine, after all. Can you imagine?

VALENTINE'S DAY

2011-02-10T19:46:00.015-05:00

What are you doing for Valentine’s Day? My hubby usually buys me a sentimental card, and a dozen FIRE and ICE roses. I always give him, truffles. I derive a great deal of pleasure from this annual ritual. Last year, though, as per my request, I got a big RED heart of Russell Stover Chocolates minus the flowers. This was because I was craving chocolate, back then. Usually not an issue for me, because I hate the stuff. Especially the dark chocolate. I really do. Still, the heart of goodies, he gave me... did the trick, quenching my spontaneous desire for it, at the time. But when the big HEART day came and went, and I didn’t have any roses, to show for it, I felt just terrible. I love roses in the dead of winter. All those chocolate endorphins didn’t help me deal with the deep regret I felt, for opting out of the flowers. Leave it to me... to ruin my own good mood. After sulking about it, for a day or two, and insisting my husband still not buy me any, I decided to take the matter into my own hands. To cheer my somber mood... I went out and bought myself, the roses. My favorite kind were nowhere to be found, so I settled for salmon colored ones, instead. They were gorgeous. It instantly lifted my spirits. I thought my husband would pitch a hissy fit, that I did it, after telling him not to. But he just smiled, when he saw them and said I shouldn’t have stopped him from buying them, to begin with. So... this year, he can get me the roses. But I’ve got something else up my sleeve. I have another special request. Instead of going out to dinner... like we usually do... I want to steam a couple lobsters, here at home. I already bought the champagne to go with them. Since there’s only one place in town that sells LIVE LOBSTERS and since you need to buy them, no more than a couple hours before they're cooked… I’m probably setting myself up for another BIG disappointment, if they SELL OUT, before we can nab a pair, to help us celebrate Valentine‘s Day. But that’s the plan, and we’re sticking to it. So... keep your fingers crossed, we score the crustaceans.

LOVE/HATE RELATIONSHIP

2011-02-03T15:09:00.002-05:00

In my youth, there was something wonderful about snowstorms. They came with no responsibility. Bundling up to go outside was always an ordeal. But it was worth it. A winter wonderland awaited my brother and I. Once out there, gathering a huge bowl of newly fallen snow was a top priority, so my mother could make a mouthwatering batch of her snow ice cream, for later in the day. What fun we had building a giant snowman in the front yard, using my father’s old scarf and hat to complete the look. Life was good. We didn’t have a care in the world. As I aged, and eventually got married, my husband, replaced my brother as my outdoor playmate. The two of us would embrace the snowy weather, walking around the frozen lake near our condo, standing on the dock watching the wind whip across the icy water. Giddy with excitement as the flakes flew, we would collapse on the ground, laughing, as we hastily made snow angels in the fresh powder. We were cold and wet, but winter was in the air and we were happy. Then, in the years that followed, something inside me changed. My love affair with the cold season ended. Why, I don’t know? I now have a love/hate relationship with the snow and ice. It’s beautiful to look at, yes… but, a pain in the rear to deal with. Shoveling the white stuff and trying to drive in it, is a real chore. So, when the weatherman says significant accumulations are in the forecast, I batten down the hatches, expecting the worst. Fresh batteries get put in the flashlights and camping lanterns. The pantry is stocked with non perishable food. Candles and oil lamps are put out and about. Extra blankets are readily available. And, there‘s an abundance of gasoline for the generator. That’s because, when an ice storm hit my region six years ago, we lost power for TWO solid WEEKS. I was all alone here in the house. My husband was out of town, miles away. And I was totally unprepared and frightened, as trees and limbs crashed all around me. My yard looked like a war zone. I had no heat. Nobody offered to help me. I vowed to myself, NEVER again. I would be READY next time a storm hit. And, to this day, I am. Of course, while I’m waiting for the worst… a cup of hot chai, and a good book, help me pass the time. So, as a result... I survived the MONSTER STORM, we just had. But I tell you… I needed a blowtorch to get my car out of all the ICE it was buried in.

GALLBLADDERS & AN ACTRESS

2011-01-27T21:08:00.004-05:00

My oldest daughter recently had laparoscopic surgery to remove her gallbladder. Everything went exceedingly well. She went in the hospital early in the morning, and was home by late afternoon. UNBELIEVABLE. By contrast, twenty eight years ago, when I had my gallbladder taken out, I was in the hospital for TEN days. One of my ribs was cracked during the surgery... and both my arms and rear end, were completely black and blue, from being a pin-cushion for the nurses. Back then... removing gallbladders was a complicated procedure. I have a nine inch vertical scar on my abdomen to prove it. And, a container of disintegrating gallstones. I told my surgeon, Dr. B. that I wanted to keep them as a souvenir of the ordeal. He was tickled pink by the notion, and presented me with them, after I was wheeled out of recovery. Now, after all these years, those gallstones are almost reduced to dust. I probably should just throw them away. But I can’t. Gross, huh? Sorry. Been collecting things since I was a small child. I daresay, my daughter did not ask to keep hers. I guess I just have a natural curiosity about such things. Lucky for her, though, she has a measly four dots on her tummy to mark the occasion of her surgery. No big ugly scars, like mine. But... I can boast that... that scar was put on my stomach, by the father of a famous Hollywood actress, when he removed my gallbladder. Imagine that?

ENJOYING THE SOLITUDE

2011-01-20T16:03:00.002-05:00

It was late afternoon and I had a hankering to get out of the house and have a change of scenery. Snow was predicted for the next day and I wanted to ward off cabin fever. I decided to go to one of my favorite locally owned restaurants, read my Kindle and hang out for a while. When I arrived, there was nobody in the joint. I had the whole place to myself. Gave me a big thrill. I found a little table that was out of the way, nestled in the back, next to an antique ice chest and old Barq’s soda sign. I plopped myself down and ordered a raspberry tea. The jukebox was playing hits from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s to soothe the soul, and I got into the groove, humming along. As I sipped my tea and read my book, Salting Roses by Lorelle Marinello… I enjoyed the solitude. But it wasn’t long lived. Before long... more and more customers began to trickle in. And would you believe, they all gravitated to me. A huge empty room and they chose to sit in close proximity to yours truly. First one person, then two, four, half a dozen or more, until that entire side of the room was completely full. I watched in amazement as this unfolded. I was fascinated. People all flocked together, like a bunch of birds. What an interesting phenomenon. I got a refill on my raspberry tea and continued about my business, now ignoring the crowd. Eventually it thinned out... leaving me all by my lonesome again... just the way I liked it. I guess I'm just a different kind of bird.

TERMINATED

2011-01-13T19:10:00.003-05:00

I am in shock. I have been deemed irrelevant. After thirty years of loyalty, in one fell swoop, our insurance company did the unthinkable. Without so much as a letter, or phone call, they terminated our service. Wiped us right out of the computer data base as if we didn’t exist. “Sorry we are no longer paying for your prescriptions. You have to cough up the money, yourself.” I was never so humiliated when my pharmacist told me we no longer had coverage. I insisted we did, shoving the new insurance card I carried, right at her. She took it and vowed to check again. Came back with the same news. “Your coverage has been terminated.” What a way to start the new year. I wondered if I accidentally threw out my new insurance card and had kept the old one. Did I forget to pay the bill? I couldn’t imagine why our coverage would be terminated? I called my husband, to ask if he knew? He didn’t. But he was just as mad as I was. How dare they. It was after 5pm. Too late to call the insurance company to get answers. I needed my prescription, so I had to get it, regardless. The pharmacist told me the medicine would cost $200. My knees almost buckled out from underneath me. With insurance, I usually only pay $25 for the pills. This was highway robbery. Surely they couldn’t be that expensive? But suffice to say, they were. I had no choice, as I took my credit card out to cover the cost. According to the pharmacist, if we get the insurance debacle straightened out in the next couple weeks, and find out we are covered, after all... the pharmacy will reimburse me, if I save the receipt. Needless to say, I’m holding on to it for dear life. Meanwhile, the insurance company has some explaining to do.

SMART PHONE, SMART CHOICE

2011-01-06T20:24:00.013-05:00

With all this talk about Smart Phones in the news, my husband and I felt out of the loop. We were living in the Dark Ages. We hadn’t upgraded our cell phones or service for seven or eight years. Lagging behind, we were still carrying old flip phones with limited calling, texting and photography capabilities. Verizon owed us a free one, so we'd get two for the price of one, if we got a new contract. And we figured the extra cost per month, for having new SMART phones, after that... would be a drop in the bucket. So, following tons of research, heated debate and with some serious trepidation, we finally decided to bite the bullet and join the ranks of modern day society. Twenty-First Century, here we come. Out with the OLD and in with the NEW. Our choice was the DROID 2 GLOBAL. For a couple of armchair travelers this choice might seem a bit drastic, especially given where we were coming from. But the truth is, we wanted a real bang for our buck. And believe me, we got it with the DROID GLOBAL. Our world changed in a heartbeat. This mobile device literally does everything. I’m not kidding, being a telephone is the least of it. We now have a computer, camera, e-reader, video camera, TV, GPS right at our fingertips. It also works as a Wi-Fi hotspot. Has easy access to hundreds of APPS. It synchronizes with my Kindle so I can read my latest book without interruption, wherever I am. And the novelty of being able to check the weather, emails, search Google, follow the stock market, or place orders on eBay, Fidelity, and Amazon, will never wear off. Not to mention the fact, I can read, write, and edit my blog from it, too. There is no end to the things we can do with this little contraption. I can’t imagine my life without it. I don’t know why I initially put off my husband’s attempts to upgrade. I guess I thought the DROID GLOBAL would be too SMART for little old me to handle. But contrary to what I thought, it’s really the most user friendly piece of technology, I’ve ever been exposed to. We LOVE it. Greatest gift we ever gave ourselves. Brilliant idea. Did I mention it has a 3.7 inch touchscreen, slide out Qwerty keyboard, it includes Swype which permits continuous finger motion across a virtual keyboard, too. It also features a 1.2 GHz processor, 512 MB RAM, 5 megapixel camera with auto focus, dual LED flash, panoramic modes, quality DVD video capture in slow or fast motion, it has a battery life of up to 500 minutes usage time, 8 GB of internal memory, expandable to 32 GB with a preinstalled microSD card, the ability to support voice or data in 200 countries, etc., etc., etc. Not bad equipment for a couple of old timers. Now… if we could just stop PLAYING with it, maybe we could divert our attention to something else?!?

HAPPY NEW YEAR

2010-12-30T23:10:00.002-05:00

When I lost 150 lbs, eight years ago, everyone marveled at my fortitude. They assumed I went on a diet after the first of the year and stuck with it. The truth is, I didn’t. Temptation would have sabotaged my efforts. Instead, without telling anyone, I began walking, four to six miles a day. The weight just melted off and I suddenly had a new lease on life. For about four years, it stayed that way. I felt like a completely new person… the old me, discarded, once and for all. Unfortunately, little did I know, that all that walking had a cumulative effect on my body. It helped to mess up, my already, arthritic knees. And the end result was devastating. Seemingly overnight... the walking, I loved to do, became impossible to do. I was in unbearable pain. I had lost my favorite pastime, in addition, to my new self. The weight came back on. And the damage to my psyche was immeasurable. It’s taken me years, to finally accept my limitations. So I’m telling you, when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve, try not to be too unrealistic about the goals you set for yourself in the coming year. Just remember you could have the rug pulled right out from underneath you, too. Researchers have differing opinions on whether you should keep New Year’s Resolutions to yourself or share them with everybody you know. In my case, talking about my goals, ahead of time, makes me less likely, to follow through on them. Just too many prying eyes, watching and waiting. It’s too easy to slip up, and disappoint someone else, in addition, to yourself. And that adds unnecessary pressure. Therefore, I’ve found, I make much better progress, on my resolutions, if I keep them, my little secret, until after the fact. Then, when I have something to really brag about, I can share, and bask in the glory of my accomplishment. So, on this New Year’s Eve, remember… “An optimist stays up until midnight to see the new year in. A pessimist stays up, to make sure the old year leaves.” What are you?

MERRY CHRISTMAS

2010-12-24T00:05:00.011-05:00

The beauty of the season is upon us. What a wonderful time of the year. In a festive holiday mood, with our tummies stuffed full of food… my hubby and I... bundled up in hats and gloves, as the cool night air, nipped at our noses. We clamored into the Dodge Caravan, happy… that the automatic car starter had warmed our seats, in advance. Flurries were in the night air, as Christmas music played softly on the radio. With no destination in mind, we headed down the road. Giddy with excitement… we were going a-wandering, in search of AWESOME outdoor Christmas displays. Everywhere we went… from one neighborhood to the next… lights dazzled in hues of red, green, amber, white, and blue. Wooden snowmen, Angels, Nutcrackers, Reindeer and St. Nick’s… stood in yards and on porches. Giant snowflakes and stars, lined the rooftops. Icicle lights dripped from gutters. Trees glistened in house windows and in front lawns. Wreaths… with big red bows, dotted doorways. As we drove past the houses... we caught random glimpses, of families gathered around, dining room tables, and in living rooms, celebrating the holiday. After a couple hours of being out, on the town, exploring... it was time for us, to head home. On the way back… guess what? AMAZINGLY... we saw eight REAL deer, mingling, in a neighbor’s yard. It just had to be… Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner and Blitzen. Santa must be busy at work. It won’t be long now, until he stops to visit you, too… Merry Christmas!

JUST IN TIME

2010-12-18T00:12:00.001-05:00

Worried that the temperature outside was dropping into the single digits… I hurried out to my car, to bring in the two six-packs of raspberry tea, still in the trunk. I didn’t want the bottles to freeze. Last year, I had a bottle of soda pop explode in there. Besides making a mess, I almost wrecked my car, when the thing went off. And, I didn’t want a repeat performance. It had snowed the night before, so my hubby had cleared off all the snow sitting on top of my trunk, so I could get inside. But there was still some residual ice, hanging around, making it difficult to close. With the tea in hand, I slammed the lid shut, best as I could, and made my way back inside. Two days passed before I had occasion to venture back out to my car. But when I did, it was because I needed to go to the store. It was 5 degrees, with the sun shining. Angry because my remote car starter wasn’t working, I had to manually do it. Everything was frozen, though. My car door didn’t want to open. I had to struggle with it for 5 minutes. When I finally put my key in the ignition, all I heard was CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! The battery was dead. I called my husband. He decided to come home early, from work. Meanwhile, he told me where to find the battery cables in the garage, so he could jump start it, when he got here. He said the current battery was the original one, so it was time to replace it. My hubby had an hour and a half drive home, and might not make it here, before the store closed. So, I could be without a car for a couple days. That made me antsy. I didn't want to be stranded. I wanted this problem resolved sooner, rather than later. Instead of waiting for him, when my daughter got back, I suggested she help me, instead. We attached the jumper cables between her jeep and my car, getting just enough juice to start my engine. I kept it running, making the decision to head up to Sears, for a new battery, praying the charge would hold until I got there. Fortunately, it did. Thank goodness for small miracles. The mechanic asked me if I knew my trunk lid was open, too. I said, “No, I didn‘t!” But that explained the dead battery. My trunk lid is connected to a power source, a light. For two days it sat open, in freezing temps, wearing down the battery. Mystery solved. So all I needed now, was the brand NEW battery, to get me going again. While I watched Oprah in the waiting room… the store clerk and my husband, via cell phone... decided WHICH one. It took an hour to put it in. Installation was not straightforward because of where the manufacturer has the battery situated in the Stratus. But... the guys at Sears, got it done. And I’m back on the road, just in time for Christmas.

ONCE UPON A TIME

2010-12-11T10:30:00.001-05:00

Once upon a time, because of a job, we lived in two places. And when we did… we took down the outdoor mailbox, at our primary residence and replaced it with a post office box, downtown. We did this because we were constantly having fights with the mail carriers about holding our mail when we were out of town, at our other residence. Changing the address to a PO Box fixed the problem. But it created new ones. For example, once or twice a week, we have to go downtown to pick up our mail. With this chore comes a lot of headaches. The biggest one is finding a parking space, somewhere near the Post Office. I have BAD knees and can’t walk that far. So I have to drive around the block more than a few times to locate a place. Minutes click past. Eventually my persistence pays off and I usually nab one close by, but sometimes I don‘t. Then it becomes quite a trek. Next problem… climbing a gazillion steps. I have to use the hand railing to balance myself as I climb. Hard to do if you’re carrying packages to be mailed…especially since the railing is coming out of the cement and is unstable. No other way up because the handicap ramp is being revamped and is closed. Finally I’m inside, but I don’t get far. There is always a line out to the door. No matter what time of day, they only have one or two service windows open. After a while, my knees feel like they’re going to buckle from the pressure of standing there so long. I tell myself to hang on. But it hurts. Meanwhile, people often cut in line, in front of me, courtesy of friends and family, already there. Not fair, but it happens. When I finally get my turn, I make the most of it. I ask them to check my PO BOX for notices of packages or anything else too big to fit inside it. Then, I’m ultimately loaded down with stacks of junk mail, catalogs, magazines and occasionally boxes, as I leave. Navigating my way back down those outside steps, holding all that, hardly being able to see in front of me, proves almost hazardous. How I keep my footing, I don’t know. By the time I get back to my car, I’m ready to collapse. What should have been a ten minute jaunt to the post office, turns into forty minutes. Each time I go, the wait is a crapshoot. And with holiday time here, it has just gotten worse. How I long, to walk to the edge of my driveway, to get my mail. Now that we live in only ONE place, we‘ve considered going back to curbside mail. But if history tells us anything, it’s this… the local carrier would botch things up, so we’d have a bigger mess to deal with, than we do now. Better to leave things alone. So I'm done kvetching.

NAUGHTY ME & THE CHRISTMAS TREE

2010-12-03T15:28:00.004-05:00

Years ago, when my hubby and I lived in the mountains of Pennsylvania… at Christmastime, we would buy a LIVE evergreen tree to grace our home for the holiday season. It would fill our humble abode with the fragrant smell of fresh pine and delighted us to no end. When the NEW year came, we would plant the tree outside, somewhere on our property and it became a permanent part of the landscape. This family tradition lasted until economics forced us to leave the region and migrate to the Midwest. Live evergreens weren’t readily available where we settled, so we began to buy fresh cut pines for our Christmas celebrations. But they came at a huge price and were always laden with trouble. We could never get the tree to sit upright in the stand and despite our best efforts, it dropped pine needles all over the place. After fighting this hassle for several years, we decided there must be a better way. It was then, we discovered the ARTIFICIAL tree. The simplicity of the concept, wowed us. We were hooked. Why hadn’t we done this sooner? Content with our decision, to go FAKE, we adapted. We could still get that fragrant smell of evergreen, by using liquid potpourri or scented candles… so our home was filled with holiday cheer. Over the years, since that first one, we’ve had a variety of artificial trees. Some were easier to maneuver. Others were purchased because they were prelit. Many were donated, decorations and all. Our most recent tree is about 7 years old. There are two pieces, to it. It stands about 6ft tall. It is called a TWIG tree. I fell in love with it, the moment I saw it. The branches are just a little more sparse, than your average tree. But it looks so realistic, you’d swear it came straight from the forest. Although it’s a cinch to put up and take down… I have a confession to make. Last year, after the twelve days of Christmas… I left it standing, firmly in place, in the corner of my family room. It was so gorgeous with it’s sparkling white twinkle lights, golden garland and crimson red bulbs...why destroy it? I thought my husband would nix the idea of a year round tree. But to my utter amazement, he said, “Christmas is only 11 months away. Let’s keep it up.” During the seemingly endless spring, summer and autumn months, the tree’s presence sparked serious debate about our decision to keep it decorated. But when songs of Christmas began playing on the radio, right before Thanksgiving, this year… I felt vindicated. It was only then, we flipped on the switch, lighting all the lights on the tree. Until then... it had remained dark, all throughout the year. Still pristine and beautiful, it glistened, radiating joy. I smiled... with tears in my eyes. Time flies. All those months, of waiting for Santa to return, had finally melted away. Now, here I am, basking in the glory of a new holiday season, sharing my little secret with you. Have you ever been, naughty, and kept your Christmas Tree up, year round? It might just become a NEW holiday tradition, here at our house. What do you think?

FULL OF MYSELF

2010-11-27T14:30:00.003-05:00

Earlier this fall... after years of wearing the same coat, I bought myself a NEW one for the upcoming WINTER season. When I got home, from shopping… I stuffed it in the front closet and forgot about it, until the temperatures outside dropped. Then… on a day when the thermometer hit 25 degrees, I hastily retrieved it from it’s hiding spot, putting it on, to run some errands. Amazed by how warm the coat felt… I congratulated myself on such a smart purchase, not to mention the fact I had only paid $49 for it. Full of myself… I scooted from store to store, that day, accomplishing each task on my TO DO LIST. With one last stop to make at the grocery store, I hurried through the checkout line with my basket filled. As I was getting ready to pay, the cashier said, “Ssh! I’ll take care of that for you.” Flabbergasted… I thought she meant the bill, until I saw her wielding a pair of scissors, leaning over the conveyer belt. “Wait a minute. What are you doing,” I asked? She responded, “I’m taking care of a little problem you have.” Perturbed she wasn’t being specific enough. I said, “What problem?” She smiled sweetly and pointed to my arm. I glanced down, still not seeing anything. In one fell swoop, she pulled my arm upward, reaching underneath with the scissors, going SNIP! SNIP!, proudly producing a HANG TAG with my coat’s price and size, in her hand. I gasped, immediately thinking of all the places I had been that afternoon, with that tag, hanging out for all the world to see. What if someone thought I had shoplifted the coat? Sensing my discomfort with the situation, she told me, not to worry about it. She too, had once forgotten to remove a tag. “It’s not a big deal,” she said. I whispered back, “Thank You.” If not for the kindness of this stranger, I would never have known of my, fashion faux pas. I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life.

TURKEY DAY

2010-11-20T13:56:00.000-05:00

Last year, at Thanksgiving, our stove was broken. This meant a huge sacrifice on our part. We would have to eat out at a local restaurant advertising Family Style dinners for the holiday. Their description of the upcoming meal, via a newspaper ad, sounded mouthwatering. So, we made reservations and anxiously anticipated the BIG day. A couple weeks passed, and on Thanksgiving... we arrived at the eatery, at our allotted time, with a HUGE appetite for turkey with all the fixings. Grateful that the cleanup would fall on someone else’s shoulders, that afternoon... put us in a festive mood. Unfortunately, that mood quickly changed, when the food was brought to the table. Instead of hearty slices of turkey on our plates, we saw several strands of unrecognizable shredded dark meat. I hate dark meat. I never eat it. Besides there was hardly enough for a mouthful. We were instantly disappointed. As far as we were concerned, the STAR of the show, the TURKEY, was missing in action. When we inquired about it, the waitress apologetically intimated that we weren’t the only ones with complaints. Turns out, that shredded stuff was the turkey and there wasn’t a lot to go around. She had strict instructions from the chef. We could have all the fried chicken or ham we wanted, but the turkey was limited. That’s why it was being shredded, to stretch farther, amongst the guests. Meanwhile we were encouraged to fill up on an abundance of stuffing, yams, cranberry relish and green beans. What else could we do? We gave up on having white succulent turkey breast for our Thanksgiving Day meal, as promised. It just wasn’t in the cards. The restaurant, hadn't lived up... to it's own hype, for the holiday. Our Family Style dinner, was RUINED. Then I realized... how ungrateful that sounded, on a day when humble appreciation is revered. SHAME ON ME. Lesson learned. Shortly thereafter, we bought a NEW stove. No more complaints about eating out. This year, the menu is up to me. And I can guarantee, the BIRD won’t be hiding on our plates. It'll be... front and center. Now, if I can just get my hubby and daughter to CLEAN UP, afterwards, it'll be a miracle? From our house to yours… HAPPY TURKEY DAY. And don't forget, to Count your Blessings.

HERE WE GO AGAIN

2010-11-14T11:28:00.001-05:00

The holiday season is in full swing. Decorations are up and stores are busy competing for the next sale. I have most of my shopping done. But I’m struggling to come up with ideas for a couple people on my list. So, I opted to buy some gift cards. Denomination, fifty dollars, which was clearly marked on the front of each card. Yet when I went through the line, at the register, to check out… the salesclerk specifically asked me, how much money I wanted to put on the first card. Flabbergasted by the question because the answer was so obvious, I told her, “ It says $50. I want to put $50 on the card.” I thought the subject was put to bed. But she responded, “Are you sure? You can put any amount you want to on the card. It doesn’t have to be $50. Perturbed, I retaliated… “The card is clearly marked $50 on the front. Why would I confuse or disappoint the person I’m giving it to, by putting a different amount of money on the card?” Surely this made sense to her. Think again. She continued to ignore what I was saying and continued with her own spiel. “The card is good for any amount of money. Ten, twenty, thirty or a hundred dollars. So what do you want to do?” At this point, I wondered if I was on Candid Camera? Calmly, I said… “ I want you to put $50 on the card.” She repeated, “$50.” I told her that was correct, hoping she finally grasped the situation at hand. Concentrating on my order, she reached for the next item. Another $50 gift card. Would you believe she started the whole dialogue, about the cards, all over again. With a perfectly straight face, she asked me, “How much money do you want me to put on this card?” I thought to myself, “You’ve got to be kidding.” Here we go again. I laughed out loud. She didn’t look amused. It’s one thing to be conscientious about your job. It’s quite another to be a pain in the rear. Christmas can’t get here soon enough.

KNEE- HIGH

2010-11-08T07:17:00.000-05:00

I am knee-high to a grasshopper. And all my life, it’s been a problem. When I was young it was cute to be diminutive, but now that I’m a senior citizen it isn’t. I swear I’ve shrunk. Clothes don’t fit me, anymore. Particularly, pants. Every pair I buy, needs to be taken up, at least four inches. Even the ones marked SHORT. It’s ridiculous. The same thing is true for all skirts and dresses too. In the old days, I did the tailoring myself. Now I can’t manage it. My fingers go numb, trying to hold the needle and thread and I can barely see, on top of that. So I take everything out to be done. The local seamstress sees me coming. My tailoring costs are enormous. I swear she bought a new car, last year because of me. To add insult to injury, I have other problems, as a short person. Reaching high shelves or display racks is also an issue. Most the cabinet space in my kitchen is off limits to me. When I was younger, I’d just climb up on a chair, stepstool or ladder to get what I wanted. But with two bad knees and arthritis, I can no longer do that. I have to ask my hubby for help. And you can forget that. He’s older and has more problems than I do. He has vertigo and isn’t climbing up on anything, either. So, we just make do with what we have at eye level. His and mine. And that means avoiding the second, third and fourth shelves in my cupboards. I’ve probably got things stashed in there, that are no longer fit for human consumption. LOL But what about all the other, non perishable stuff? Sadly, I haven’t used my GOOD china in over eight years. It’s tucked away on the third shelf, in the corner of the room, making it impossible to reach with unsteady legs and hands. Putting it there, when I was spry seemed like a good idea at the time. But in retrospect it wasn’t. It’s hard to know when my size is going to affect me, adversely. Another example is traveling. Recently when I had occasion to stay at a hotel, I almost panicked when I realized the bed was too high for me to sit on, much less sleep on. I had to pull the desk chair over and perform an acrobatic act just to reach it. God forbid, if I had to get up during the night, once I was tucked in. I would have fallen on my butt, maybe even injured myself. Truth is… when you’re short, life is jammed packed with obstacles, and everyday becomes a challenge.

BULLIES AND A LITTLE GIRL

2010-11-01T08:31:00.002-04:00

In hindsight... growing up, is hard to do. I have empathy for all school aged children. It’s tough being a kid. You have to answer to everyone, while trying to figure out who you are. It can be difficult to conform. And marching to the beat of your own drummer is tricky, at that age. You can be labeled or ridiculed, for doing nothing at all. A lot can get lost in translation between adults and children. And between, children and children. Life is complicated. You have to HANG TOUGH. You can’t be too thin-skinned to survive the ups and downs along the way. I’ve reached the age, now… where if I want to wear my TRILBY out and about, I do so... and I ignore any snide remarks being bantered about, because of it. But kids don’t have that same filter. They haven’t learned to compartmentalize. They tend to take everything, to heart. And that can lead to heartbreak. When I was a small child... I was the victim of bullies. The elementary school was about four blocks away from my parent’s house. You could take the long way there or you could take the shortcut through the neighbor’s backyard. Every time I tried to take the shortcut… trouble reared it’s ugly head. I would start to climb up the long hill which lead to my street... when I’d get about halfway up, BAM, I didn’t know what hit me. I‘d end up tumbling to the bottom. I got there... because a small group of little hoodlums... would grab my books and papers, toss them all over the hillside, and then push me down, until I lost my footing and fell. They laughed and laughed, as they ran away, leaving me there, in tears, in a crumpled mess, to collect my things. I felt horrible. Being picked on, wasn’t fun. And this wasn’t an isolated incident. They did it to me, over and over again. I tried to fight back. But I couldn‘t defend myself. They threatened worse violence towards me, if I told anybody. I was scared. I was one lone little girl, up against an angry mob. I finally conceded, that I’d have to take the long way home, to avoid the confrontations. So that’s what I did, even though I thought it was unfair. I also eventually told my parents, who were quite upset... by my dirty clothes. And, by how long it was taking me to get home after school, each day. They alerted the neighbor to what was going on in their backyard. I wonder if those BULLYS grew up to be juvenile delinquents? Or became... mean, rotten adults? Perhaps, it was just a phase they went through as youngsters, and later outgrew? To this day, the memories linger and I will never forget the pain and humiliation I felt from their bullying. I’d like to say, this experience, made me stronger. I guess it did. But I still question why it had to happen, at all?

HAPPY HALLOWEEN

2010-10-24T20:54:00.009-04:00

I HAVE NEVER POSTED PHOTOGRAPHS.

IT'S TOO SCARY.

LET'S TRY IT AND SEE WHAT HAPPENS.

FROM MY HOUSE TO YOURS.
HAPPY HALLOWEEN.

IS THE ORDEAL OVER?

2010-10-15T20:41:00.007-04:00

My husband is a strong man. Little bothers him. In all the years we’ve been together, I’ve never seen him so sick, that he couldn’t function. But now he is absolutely, positively, miserable. He is in terrible pain. He has been suffering with a toothache for the past two weeks. One tiny, little tooth... has literally knocked... the wind out of his sails. The oral surgeon put him on an antibiotic to attack the infection in his mouth. But the pain hasn’t subsided, in all this time. He's been living on soup, alone... because he can't chew. Meanwhile, arrangements were made to have the EVIL tooth removed, since it can’t be saved. And after days of waiting, that finally happened today. My husband was put to sleep, to have it done. With COPD, this can be very tricky. They had to give him the right mix of oxygen during the procedure and carefully monitor him. He went ‘under’ around 1:20pm. I sat in the waiting room, in an uncomfortable chair, thumbing through an old stack of PEOPLE magazines, while he had surgery. My presence was required since he wouldn’t be able to drive home, by himself, afterwards. When I joined him in the recovery room, forty minutes later… he was lying on his side, bundled up with a burgundy colored blanket. He was white as a ghost. It frightened me. He looked so vulnerable. I’ve never seen him like that. He didn’t want to wake up. And he didn’t want to go home, either. He was comfortable where he was at. But with a little coaxing, they finally got him to sit up. He was still very groggy and his speech was terribly slurred. It was literally impossible to understand what he was saying.Twenty more minutes had passed. They asked me to bring the car around to the front entrance. It’s quite a trek. I was worried he wouldn't be able to make it because he was so unsteady. As a precaution, they decided to put him in a wheelchair, to bring him out to the van. I was surprised by this, but grateful, that they weren‘t taking any chances... since there was the possibility, he could collapse. I was never so happy, to get him home, inside the house and situated in his recliner. However, once here... time dragged on. The bleeding in his mouth worsened. We went through dozens of gauze pads. He's still in alot of pain. Has a headache. His cheek is sore. He is one sick fella. But finally... after about four or five hours, his coloring had returned, and the bleeding lessened. Suddenly, he was hungry and thirsty for some juice, Greek yogurt, and a Vicodin. Will the ordeal be over soon? Time will tell. At least now, things are on the mend. Thank goodness. Unfortunately, our next dilemma, is finding him other kinds of food, he can eat, while healing. Soup is still at the top of the list. But at this point, he's had his fill of it. Any other suggestions?

MODERN CONVENIENCE

2010-10-09T15:34:00.013-04:00

Recently, when our old dishwasher broke... we bought a new one. But my hubby wants to know why we wasted the money. He doesn’t feel I utilize this modern convenience to it’s fullest capacity. This is a source of contention between us. Maybe you can help. I’m curious about WHAT other people do in their households? Do you rinse off your dishes before putting them in the dishwasher? Or do you put them in there, filthy dirty? Yours truly always washes mine off in hot water, with lots of soap, before loading the machine. My husband thinks I’m nuts. Why bother? He feels I should just throw them in there... full of gunk. I strongly disagree. The dirt will get caked on, and be harder to remove, especially if I‘m not using the dishwasher that day. Doing it my way… if I need an extra plate or spoon, throughout the week, before it‘s run… I don’t worry about taking something from there... I know they will be clean. I know what you’re thinking… I’m crazy, right? I should let the dishwasher do its job. Why bother to have a dishwasher, if I just use it, as a 'fancy' drying rack. I guess you can’t teach an old dog, like me, new tricks. I got into this habit of cleaning the plates, bowls and utensils, thoroughly… from back in the days, when I didn’t own a dishwasher. And as time’s gone by, I haven’t changed my mentality. So, if truth be told, I mostly use the dishwasher to sterilize. And that’s especially comforting, if we’ve been sick. Otherwise, having a dishwasher, for a family of two, isn’t really necessary, is it? So why am I so happy, to have one?

WARM TOES

2010-10-02T14:59:00.007-04:00

Now that autumn is officially here, my thoughts are skipping ahead to that next seasonal transition. During the winter months, we turn back the thermostat to approximately 60 degrees, at night. And for some reason, it feels colder than it actually is, inside the house. I’ve tried in vain to get my husband to bump up the numbers a few notches, but he refuses. His COPD rules the roost. I’ve written about this before. He uses various medicines and inhalers to control it. But, most importantly, he keeps it very, very cool inside our house, so... according to him, he can breathe easier. Cooler temps are great in the summer, but in the dead of winter… not so much. Therefore, our bed is piled high with blankets and a comforter. But I still freeze my rear end off when I try to go to sleep. Plus all that excess material I’m weighted down with, as I toss and turn, is a real pain, too… especially since it doesn’t seem to do it’s job. Baby it’s cold inside. Snuggling helps and is obviously distracting. But it doesn’t completely eliminate the COLD. And to be honest, all this shivering interferes with a good nights sleep. I’ve tried jersey and flannel sheets, to add warmth. My hubby HATES them. So I have to listen to a litany of complaints. And frankly, I’m sick and tired of hearing them. Every winter season, I broach the subject of using an electric blanket, and get the idea shot down, by him. But surprisingly, this year he didn’t. I don’t know WHAT changed or WHY??? But all systems are now GO... for an electric blanket with dual controls. YEAH. I'm so excited. Unfortunately, the problem is… I don’t like any of the ones, I’ve seen on the market, so far. They’re flimsy and lightweight. You feel more wire, than blanket. I’m so disappointed. But... my quest has just begun… so keep your fingers crossed, that I find something, before the first snow flies. I’m seriously looking forward, to my first warm toes, in years.

OPEN SESAME

2010-09-25T15:07:00.001-04:00

My house is old. The doors and windows are outdated. The windows are especially bothersome because it’s hard to open them. Seriously, it’s a real struggle. But then, the funny thing is… once you get them up, they have to be propped open, with a stick, to stay in place or they‘ll fall down. Unbelievable. It’s a pain in the rear. Over the years I’ve learned to just keep them shut. If I want to enjoy fresh air, I just go outside on the patio. Because of the size variations, the old doors have been difficult to replace. The old windows, not so much. The problem with them is the cost. We have a lot of windows. And that’s not chump change we’re talking about, to get new ones installed. So we’re doing it piece meal. A few years ago, we were feeling a bit flushed and we opted to replace the front windows only. They LOOK wonderful. But in the two years, that followed installation, I had never opened the new windows, not once. Old habits die hard. I was so used to the OLD windows being there, I simply kept forgetting we had the new ones. But when the temperatures dipped… I surprised myself… by opening them for the first time. It was so easy. They stayed up, no sticks required. Imagine that? What a bang for the buck. The cool, fresh air permeated the interior of the house. The sound of sirens and cars whizzing past, added new background noise to our everyday existence. It was marvelous. I had forgotten how much I loved the smells and sounds of the outdoors, inside. Never has such a simple gesture been so well received. Even my hubby liked the difference. And without doubt, the cats loved the new windows, too. They sat in the bottom of them all day. From now on… the windows stay open, until the snow arrives. Now all we have to do, is find the money to replace the rest of them.

AUTUMN FEVER

2010-09-20T18:11:00.000-04:00

The official start to autumn is only a couple days away. But the thermometer here is supposed to read almost 90 degrees tomorrow. HOT! HOT! HOT! Not exactly the kind of weather to usher in the new season. Not that I’m complaining, mind you. It can stay summer just a little bit longer. It’s just that I happen to LOVE autumn. It is my absolute favorite time of the year. The cooler, but not cold temps are a big part of it. Guess I’ll have to wait for them to arrive later. With Autumn Fever knocking on my door… I opened the big hope chest, behind my sofa, today… and took out all the fall decorations. After about an hour… my house was adorned with autumn décor. Pumpkins are sitting out and about, inside and out, my humble abode. They decorate end tables, kitchen and bathroom counters, the fireplace mantel, a faux wood burning stove and the front porch. A large LEAF wreath, greets visitors to my front door. And a burnt orange tablecloth covers my dining room table, with green leaf placemats. In years past, I would also decorate my windows and doors with leaf garlands, too. And I would string up orange lights to accentuate the autumn colors. My husband thinks all the decorating is silly. So I toned it back a bit, once the children were grown and gone. But there are grandchildren now, so I’m back at it. Just wait ’til Halloween.

IGOR, A FOND MEMORY

2010-09-17T00:43:00.008-04:00

When Hurricane Igor developed, I couldn’t help but pause, for a moment. It is the perfect name for a hurricane. IGOR. Just the name, evokes something FEARFUL. A scary notion if you have to batten down the hatches and evacuate your home. Luckily it doesn’t look like this storm is headed here to our shores. Although, we will probably get rough surf and strong rip currents from it‘s fury. But this ferocious storm does appear to be aiming straight for Bermuda. Landfall may be this weekend. While, I worry about the people in the path of this powerful hurricane… I can’t help but remember, with a smile, the significance of the name, to me, in my youth. As you all know, the name Igor is synonymous with horror flicks, particularly Frankenstein. That would give anyone reason to run for their lives. BUT not me. I feel a particular fondness for the name. Why? Because… Igor was also the name, of my high school sweetheart’s, Rock and Roll Band. I spent many an afternoon, or evening... in my teens, with my sweetie and the other members of IGOR, at rehearsals and gigs. Nothing scary about it. The boys knew how to put on a GREAT show. And I knew how to ENJOY myself, when they were ROCKING. Oh, the MEMORIES, we made. I could write a book. I haven’t seen those guys in over 35 years. I daresay, if the band was around today, the boys would be in awe of their current namesake. And they would be glued to the TV, following his every move. I know somewhere… my high school buddies, are out there… talking about the irony of all this, too. But like me, they are probably horrified by the potential devastation, lying in the wake, of this still deadly hurricane. Let’s hope it’s downgraded soon. But in the meantime, please put Bermuda in your prayers. And, by all means, ROCK ON.

WHO KNEW?

2010-09-11T01:21:00.001-04:00

Years ago, my cousin and her hubby, went into business selling SCRUBS to the general public. This was back during a time when nobody but doctors wore them. I can only imagine the dollar signs they’d be racking up today, if they had stayed in the business. Nowadays, everyone wears SCRUBS. They are everywhere you go... at least around here. They are affordable, fashionable and comfortable, to boot. I became a convert when I was in the hospital for a couple weeks, back in 2007. The hospital preferred the patients wear the SCRUBS they supplied, instead of pj‘s or nightgowns, from home. It beat the heck out of those old hospital gowns, with your butt hanging out. As a result, when I was released from the hospital, to go back home, I had to get me a pair of SCRUBS. Not knowing where to look for them… I was pleasantly surprised to find them at retailers, Walmart and Meijer’s. Unfortunately, the selections there, were a tad bit antiseptic, to say the least. So I looked for other options. And I found them on the internet. If you want to really jazz up your SCRUBS wardrobe, people… Tafford’s online, is the place to shop. They’ve got anything your heart desires, when it comes to SCRUBS. I like printed tops, with themes and solid bottoms. But on the pants, I prefer the elastic waist... instead of, the drawstring ones. Both my daughters disagree. Drawstring, according to them, is the only way to go. My older daughter works in the local hospital doing patient registrations, in the emergency room. So she likes patterned tops, too. This is in case something gross happens to get on her, then you won‘t see the stain. My youngest, the daughter who’s the microbiologist, goes strictly for the solid colors. She thinks it looks more professional. While both ladies HAVE to wear their SCRUBS for work… I simply like to lounge around in my ‘Doctor Duds’ here at home, or when I run to the store. Apparently it’s trendy and cool, to look like a health professional, when you’re not. Who knew, I’d be a fashionista, at my age. Have you ever worn SCRUBS?

POWERLESS

2010-09-04T18:19:00.002-04:00

The power lines to my house are in the backyard, instead of out front. I guess when they were laying out plans for the neighborhood, years ago, it seemed like a good idea, to put them there. Lately though, it’s been a real pain in the rear, for us. Not the original owners of our humble abode… the problem is, the trees here. Back when they built the house, the trees had just been planted and were small. Now, fifty-seven years later, we’re living in a woods. Our yard is full of trees, reaching limbs to the sky. The trouble is, some of them are growing dangerously close to the power lines. Their branches are interfering with business. During a wind, rain, snow or ice storm, they could potentially knock out power to the entire neighborhood, not just us. So the power company says the trees must come down. This saddens me. I love trees. I don't want to see any destroyed. But I understand why it must be done, whether I like it or not. Unfortunately to add insult to injury, my yard is now trashed with graffiti. The power company went crazy spray painting... BIG ugly, hot pink X’s... on all the tree trunks, of those trees to be eliminated. It looks hideous. Those without marks get to stay. Lucky them. The last time the power company did something of this magnitude was five years ago. Back then, when they cut down the other trees, they littered my entire backyard with piles of wood and brush. You couldn’t even walk back there. Try as we might… we couldn’t get anyone to haul away the wood. The cut pieces were just too gigantic and unwieldy. We're senior citizens... it literally took us THREE years to clean up the MESS the power company left behind. Therefore, I don’t relish the idea, of them, doing it again. But… I’m powerless to change it, because I don’t want to be power-less.

BLOG, ONE YEAR OLD

2010-08-28T13:42:00.006-04:00

I can’t believe it. This is my BLOG anniversary. I should have champagne, a cake and balloons, to celebrate. HIP HIP HORRAY! I put up my first column here on Blogger... ONE year ago, today. I have written approximately once a week, without a vacation, or day off, ever since. So many nice people, I’ve connected with here. I love you all. I’m genuinely touched when you stop by to comment. I consider you all friends. Since I don’t do Facebook, this is my outlet. That and Twitter. Here's a link to my Twitter account. (http://twitter.com/taryterre1) Just so you know… I wasn’t a stranger to this blogging thing. Before this, I had my very own website where I spent quite a few years writing about politics. You see, I used to be a reporter and photographer for a small hometown paper. My job was to cover town council meetings. I had lots of opinions about local and national issues, I had to keep to myself. But having a website, after I got laid off, let me vent about them. Over the course of time, though… the political baggage was getting too heavy. And so was maintaining the site. Tired of my own rhetoric and that of the pundits, I left the past behind and began blogging about simple pleasures and problems. With only my family and a few friends reading, my new subject matter… I decided to expand my horizons. I dropped my website and joined Blogger. I have to admit... I was a J-Land lurker, and followed you all, over here. I’m happier now that I’m writing about the everyday things that happen to me. Far less stressful. Far more satisfying. I hope you’ll continue to join me, for whatever life throws my way. Just endless musing. A few laughs, a few tears and ALWAYS something to talk about.

PHARMACIST

2010-08-20T18:33:00.005-04:00

Ownership of the local pharmacy has changed half a dozen times over the past decade or two. But, the pharmacist has remained constant. I have been going to him for twenty-five years. He knows me, and I know him. There is trust between us. I am free to ask whatever questions I want and he explains what I need to know . He’s the first to notice potentially dangerous interactions between prescribed medications, I’m taking and he’s not afraid to speak out about it. Thank goodness. I’m in good hands and I like it. But things they are a changing. My insurance company wants me to do things differently and apparently so does my doctor. Recently I went to get a prescription filled. It is for a medication I take on a regular basis. It turned into a real hassle. I didn’t notice, that my doctor changed the order on my prescription from thirty days to ninety days. He apparently did this, to save me time and money, but neglected to tell me. Unfortunately, my local drugstore will not dispense any pills for more than a month at a time. So I’m out the BULK supply. I’m fine with that. Thirty days of pills is too much medicine lying around my house, anyway. However, my insurance company thinks otherwise. According to them, if I purchased the prescription MAIL ORDER from an online place, I could rack up the savings, that way… plus get that ninety days worth, all at once. They’re really PUSHING the idea. I’m all for saving a little bit of money... but to do this prescription thing, online, is too cold and impersonal, for me. Buying drugs is not like buying books, clothes or electronics. You need more feedback. Online, I don’t know if I’d get it. I’ve waited for hours on Helplines, looking for answers. Would this be any better? And furthermore, I’d probably get a different person each time I called. Who’s to say, who I’d really be dealing with. Therefore, I want to keep things, the way they are. I want to continue going to my local pharmacy. Problem is… I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to. The insurance company is playing hardball. I was down to my last four pills and they REFUSED to pay for the refill. Because of that, the prescription couldn’t even be dispensed, to me, by my pharmacy until the end of the week, when that very last pill of the four, would be used. I couldn’t believe it? What if I had an emergency or needed to go out of town before then? I’d be without my medication. Their response… get it MAIL ORDER and you’ll have a bigger supply on hand. TOUCHE. We’ve reached a STALEMATE. They are determined to FORCE my hand about this. But until 'Push comes to Shove'... I’m REFUSING to budge. Just call me old-fashioned. A PERSONAL connection, in this case, is better than an ONLINE one, at least as far as I’m concerned.

THE VISITOR

2010-08-13T21:42:00.003-04:00

The seemingly big, black and white spider pranced across the floor, like a horse in a harness race. It went from under my bed to the long dresser beside it. My hardwood floors usually don't showcase spiders... but I caught this one's performance out of the corner of my eye, for all of 10 seconds. It was a black spider with a distinctive white geometric pattern on it's back. A triangle with a line, perhaps? The thing glared like spotlights were on it, as it had pranced. I immediately turned on every light in the place, to FIND where it had went. Barefoot, I moved cautiously around. It made me feel a tad bit uneasy. I did NOT want to feel something go squish, under my feet. I was irritated it had interfered with my goodnight time. So what to do now? I knew I couldn't stay up all night, looking for it. But I also knew it would keep me up all night thinking about it... since it was nowhere to be found. I suspected it was very cleverly disguised watching me in amusement. After all how BIG am I and how small is it? I needed to chill. FURGETABOUTIT! But I just couldn't. The question then became... not where the spider was, but WHERE it would go, as I slept. A weary head eventually conceded defeat, when sleep beckoned. So I reluctantly turned off the lights and crawled into bed... worried I would encounter the spider, overnight, right there. Squirming, just a little... I fixated on that happening. Fifteen, twenty, thirty minutes went by. Forty-five, then sixty and I was dreaming. PEACE at LAST. In the morning, the spider never crossed my mind, as I bounded off the mattress and hit the ground running to get a start on my day. Truth be told, I forgot all about that scary creature until I met up with it, a couple days later. I accidentally found it... casually sitting on my countertop, by the sink, in my kitchen. I thought... that was quite a journey, the irritating spider had made... going from one end of the house to the other. Briefly impressed, I got my wits about me. I LOOKED at it and it LOOKED back at me. I hesitated to think, just for a moment... where it would go next, without human intervention. With nerves of steel... I swatted it with a paper towel, then disposed of the spider problem, once and for all. Could have been poisonous? You NEVER know.

GONE MISSING

2010-08-07T21:54:00.006-04:00

You know that phenomenon where you put a pair of socks in the washing machine and part of them end up missing. You look everywhere, but you can’t find the second sock, to make the pair complete again. This is exactly what is happening to our silverware. Particularly the teaspoons and forks. They go in the dishwasher, then get put in the drawer, when they’re clean, and just disappear. And before you ask, no they are not hiding in the bottom of the dishwasher. They’re gone, vanished to parts unknown. We’ve had these sets of flatware for years. I haven’t counted the forks… but I had over 24 spoons when this started and am now down to a measly 8. I kid you not. Needless to say, I’m upset by this turn of events. I ruled out the possibility of my husband being the thief. He’s not taking them and stashing them away somewhere. Obviously, I am not sabotaging my own kitchen. The cats as mischievous as they are, would need pretty big jaws to cart the spoons off. So where did all that silverware go? Here’s an educated guess. Our new house guest is the culprit. Five months ago, our adult daughter, who’s an unemployed microbiologist moved back home. Life here got interesting. I could write a book about the trials and tribulations. To start with, she uses pots and pans but won’t clean them. Then she takes her meals upstairs to her room. I have tried to persuade her not to. But she refuses to eat with us. As a result, she has resorted to acting like an adolescent, at age 34. Case in point… she recently held one of my antique glass FIRE KING bowls hostage for two weeks, refusing to bring it back downstairs, after she used it... knowing full well with my bad knees, I couldn’t go upstairs to retrieve it. She even went as far as to tell me to just buy a NEW one. The only way I got it back was by refusing to give her food. She was livid. How dare I? When recently asked about the missing spoons, she denied having them. Closer inspection of her room by my husband revealed nothing. Which makes this crime even worse. From what we can surmise, she threw them out in the trash, rather than bring ‘em downstairs to rinse off and put away. When she cleans up, up there, everything in sight just goes into a big green garbage bag and out it goes. I’m missing a few plates too. I can’t believe I raised her. Irresponsible doesn’t begin to describe it. And to tell you the truth I don’t know what to do with her. She’s broke, has no job, sits on the computer all day playing games. I sat her down and told her, Enough is Enough. As long as she lives with us, there would be rules she needed to abide by… starting with NO more meals or silverware, upstairs. Her response was to tell me she’d use plastic utensils and paper plates from now on… but of course, I’d have to buy them. UNBELIEVABLE. No remorse, whatsoever, for what's Gone Missing.
P.S. I went to use a Tupperware container today, and discovered, more than half of them are missing too.

GESTURES

2010-08-01T00:37:00.003-04:00

Music blares. A car pulls up beside you. Depending on the tune, you either love or hate the next two minutes waiting for the light to change. But do you show your disdain or pleasure? Come on, tell the truth. A nod, a finger, a fist, eye roll, blowing kisses, pouting, winking. How many of us, out there on the road... have experienced something that commands us to send a nonverbal SIGNAL to a fellow traveler. "Hey, listen to me. This is what I think about you, your driving skills, your car, your music, etc." We have all been there and done that, in our own discreet or non-discreet way, with or without the expletives. Years ago... at a stop sign, on a rural road, with plenty of room to maneuver... I pulled slightly forward in an intersection, in order to see around a telephone pole on my left. Believe it or not, an approaching motorist came so close to my car as he made his turn... I heard him spew venom directed at me, and saw the fire in his eyes. OUCH! It hurt. I broke into tears. What had I done to him? It was a wake up call. BEWARE of folks who are having a BAD day. I know I've had a few of them, myself. However, the angry shaking of that man's fist, vividly remains planted in my mind. As frightening as that incident was, he didn't frighten me near as much, as encounters, on a local one-lane bridge. Usually when I navigate it, no one else is coming from the opposite direction. But when another car suddenly appears and tries to scrape past me... hand gestures and words are at the forefront of my thoughts, next to survival. Now... I’m the one who is mad. One lane, MEANS one lane. Fortunately my fears are quelled and an accident is avoided. Yet the bitterness felt, for the other driver remains. I could have been killed. For some reason... the NEGATIVE gestures directed our way, are the ones most talked about. But the POSITIVE ones... are often taken for granted. Why? We don’t make a big deal… if someone lets you get in line, ahead of them, at the gas station. Or if a person gives you their parking space. Or if someone blinks their car lights at you, to let you know, yours aren’t on. Or, at a STOP SIGN, when the other driver gives you the go ahead, so you can go through first, even though... you both arrived there at the same time. The truth is... when these things happen... we all nod our head in thanks, or flash our lights to acknowledge the nicety. Why? Because it DOES matter. For that nanosecond, we've found an ally. So... do your good upon the earth, next time you’re out driving. Make your gesture a NICE one. It might make somebody's day, in an unexpected way. But BEWARE... you might hear or see, what they really think, like it or not.

CATCH OF THE DAY

2010-07-25T02:07:00.001-04:00

The first time I ate a lobster, I was in Connecticut.The sign outside the restaurant said TWO LOBSTERS for $8.99. My hubby and I ate there, everyday for a week. The price lured us and the flavor spoiled me. I was hooked. Unfortunately, the price for one of those giant water bugs, goes up, the further inland you go. So when I got home from that vacation... I learned to skip the fancy restaurant, and instead cart the lobsters home from the grocery store in a cardboard carryout box and steam 'em live. But after a while, their cost became prohibitive and the ritual LOBSTER in a POT routine faded away for boring menus of meat and potatoes. And though my mouth watered for the flavor of succulent lobster drizzled in butter... I avoided the purchase each time I went to the store. It had literally been years since I had one... so when I noticed a sign posted at my grocer last week $9.99 LOBSTERS, one and a half pounds... I jumped at the opportunity. I wanted two. The store clerk came over to scoop them out of the tank they were in, just as a mommy and her toddler happened, past. "LOOK! LOOK!" she shrieked to the small child. "See the lobsters swimming. This lady is going to buy one." I smiled. Proud to share the moment, I interjected, "Actually, I'm buying TWO." By now the store clerk had wrestled the first one to the surface, of the water, for my inspection. Placing the lid partially back on top of the tank and sitting the lobster there... he asked me if it was about the right size? I told him it was and reminded him I needed another one. Watching his hand skim the bottom of the tank... the child sat there in the shopping cart wide-eyed, looking directly into the face of the lobster, already on board. The mother said, "This lady is going to take that lobster you're looking at, to her house,and then she's going to cook it up in a great big pot and EAT IT!" The child's eyes welled with tears, looking at the lobster and then back at me. The mother emphasized the EAT IT part, to bring home the point. And the kid got the message. POOR LOBSTER. BAD LADY. I was humiliated. I felt I needed to explain to the child... but it just wasn't my place. I was irritated by their meddling. But what could I say? The woman raised her eyebrows at me as I stood there silently cursing her. " It's my first lobster in years," I managed to exclaim. The small child turned to look at me suspiciously.. Surely, I wouldn't hurt it, would I? Lobster #2 appeared, in the clerks hands. Boxing them up, he said, "You're good to go". I breathed a sigh of relief. The deal was done. Dinner had arrived. No more casual conversation with strangers. These lobsters were coming home with me, right now. However... realizing, the two I had, were leaving all their friends in the tank behind… the child looked SADLY at the other lobsters. And for one brief, fleeting moment, as I stood there watching the innocence of youth... I hesitated, thinking I'd throw my two lobsters back in the tank and be a hero. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. REALITY LOOMED. Would meat and potatoes be a better menu choice? "Did your mom tell you about COWS?", I muttered under my breath, glaring at the woman, as I shuffled past with my CATCH of the DAY. Later that evening... when the lobsters had succumbed to the boiling water... something came over me. I couldn't look into the face of death and retrieve them from the pot. I insisted that my hubby take them out and put 'em on the plates. I thought it would help getting that first bite down. But, truth be told... it only took a minute for me to pull myself together, and overcome any grief I was feeling. Delectable and sweet, that forkful of crustacean melted in my mouth. Such a thing, is worth dying for. Lobsters were born to be eaten.

THE INVASION

2010-07-18T18:06:00.006-04:00

The invasion started a month ago. We began to see, an occasional BIG black ant crawling, here or there. Initially, not worried by their appearance, we would stomp them out with our shoes or pick them off with a napkin. But then, over the course of time, things changed. The ants SUDDENLY seemed to multiply. They were attacking from every angle. It felt like we were living in a HOUSE of HORRORS. Ants were crawling on the floors, the walls, my dining room hutch, the kitchen counter. It was disgusting. We needed to STOP them... preferably at the source. So we went on the defensive looking for their entry location. WHERE was it? Then, I had a hunch. There is a lone wire that comes straight into the house, from outside, to run the cable TV. I wondered if perhaps the ants could be following that line, directly inside, through the teeny tiny hole in the wall. Sure enough, when we went to that corner of the family room to take a peek, we saw a parade of ants, SWARMING in, from behind the molding, where the hole was. The mystery was solved. Next step was to get rid of them all. Armed with a couple cans of TERRO Ant Spray Killer… we went to WAR… spritzing and spraying, one room then another, to exterminate the pests. It took forty-five minutes, to declare VICTORY. Mission Accomplished. But what a mess. Ant carcasses were lying everywhere. It took another hour and a half to CLEAN up the carnage. Then we went back, to reinforce the perimeter of the house, by adding a new invisible barrier of protection, that also included sealing around the hole. So far, so good. The barricade is holding. We’ve been ANT FREE for 6 days. Hopefully, the enemy is not plotting strategy, to regroup. If another attack occurs, we’ll have no choice but to bring in the BIG guns. Professional Exterminators, trained for this type of combat. The Battle Lines are drawn. We have met the ENEMY and he is OURS.

GRAVE DECISIONS

2010-07-12T22:00:00.008-04:00

My husband and I are almost twenty years apart in age. Mortality has a way of creeping up on you, when you least expect it. So, a year ago… after several of our friends passed on… my spouse and I started to take stock of what is really important. That included what happens to us after we die. Feeling a sense of urgency to get our ducks in a row… we headed down to the local cemetery, looking for a nice spot. We found it on a hill, corner lot, with a tree. Every now and then, we buy a malt, then go and sit beside our newly acquired real estate, and thank god, we don’t need it yet. But there is peace of mind, knowing it’s there, just in case we do. Lately though, it’s been looking kind of barren there. So we decided, it’s time, to add a stone. Usually, this task is performed by a spouse or loved one at a solemn time and can be quite stressful. We opted to make the experience more upbeat by doing it now, in honor of our 30th anniversary. Finding a ‘contemporary’ piece was our top priority. Not an easy task, in this traditional town, where the norm is pretty standard and boring. But with a little searching, we found a company nearby that was selling something that fit the bill. The stone we picked is rectangular with rounded beveled edges. It suits our taste. Sort of looks like a flat screen TV on a pedestal. After viewing it online… we drove out to the monument place, to see it in person. Once there, it became quite an ordeal. A million different things to consider, when buying a stone. Unfortunately, this piece wasn’t in stock locally. Vermont had nothing like it. So it had to be shipped directly from India, if we still wanted it. We did. But… we now had our choice of six colors. Which one? We hotly debated between... red, black, or gray marble, but ultimately chose the color brown. We wanted a simple, solid background. No pictures of ourselves or our favorite things. The standard, last name, at the top... on the front and back. Just our wedding anniversary date, with entwined rings, engraved in the middle of it. Plus my hubby and I each wanted TWO, eight word epitaphs added. One on his side, and a different one on mine. Also included on my side would be my maiden name. I want folks reading the stone to know where I came from before I got married. The lady who waited on us was very helpful in putting this all together. The radio in her office had on the John Tesh afternoon show, playing quietly in the background… and he just happened to play, “STAYING ALIVE”, by the BEE GEES, as we filled out the paperwork. We took this as a positive sign. Both of us were grinning... ear to ear, when we heard it. We'll always have that moment to remember. Great story to tell our friends and family. Meanwhile, the Monument Company is going to make a mock-up of the completed tombstone on paper, to show us how it will ultimately look. We’ll get to approve it or make changes in the next couple of weeks. Once that’s done… the whole process, including shipping, engraving and installation at the cemetery will take three months. We put a down payment on it, to get the ball rolling and the rest of the money is due in October, when it's finished. It set us back quite a bit of money. So much so… we could have had a hell of a nice vacation. But when you’re planning for ETERNITY… the SKY'S the LIMIT.

UNDER THE WEATHER

2010-07-02T02:05:00.006-04:00

I feel miserable. It started with a sore throat. Then… a fever. Now I have the sniffles, congestion and a cough. I hate being sick. But the worse part is being sick in the summer. It’s been a while since I felt this bad. Usually I get sick in the winter, when it's snowing. Now, it just feels weird, to be under the weather, when it’s so HOT outside. My husband’s theory is that I caught this BUG when I was out and about, gallivanting around town. It's possible. But I think it’s more likely, he had a little something to do with it. Here’s why. My hubby has Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease or COPD. Simply put… he has trouble breathing. It’s worrisome. He uses various medicines and inhalers to control it. But, most importantly, to help… he keeps it very cool inside our house, so... according to him, he can breathe easier. When he’s at work during the day, I have some relief. But the minute he gets home… the thermostat is adjusted downward, again. I’m always complaining, it’s TOO cold in here, and that he needs to turn it back up. He won’t budge. He insists, the only way he can breathe, is by turning it down that low. Otherwise, he says, it feels like an oven, with the air being thick and stagnant. This is his perception from the disease. So... he compensates, by making it feel like a freezer inside the house. And, I think that’s what made me sick. The COLD air helped make my throat DRY and therefore, more susceptible to the germs, that caused this. So that's how one thing, led to another. But I’ll never convince him, that’s what happened. He says if I don’t want him to be on portable oxygen, then I have to adapt to the cooler air. Obviously I don’t want him in discomfort or distress. But why should my health suffer too? I really am sick from this. I’ve been taking Vitamin C and over the counter… cough, cold and flu medicines to get rid of this, for days, now. It’s gotten worse, instead of better. I’m starting to think I might need an antibiotic. Last night, I was looking for a little more relief… so I had a bowl of soup, thinking that might help, break up the congestion. OLD Wives’ Tale. Didn’t work. So I just crawled under the covers and tried to sleep. It was an impossible task. My nose would clear on one side and then get clogged on the other. Eventually it affected both nostrils, at the same time and I found myself gasping for air. It got so bad… I thought I might need portable oxygen, too. Meanwhile, the doctor doesn’t have any appointments available until next week. So I’ll have to suffer and shiver, through the weekend. So much for a HAPPY 4th of JULY. I guess I’ll just have to watch the fireworks on TV, surrounded by a nice warm quilt, clutching my box of Kleenex.

RUSTIC FEELINGS

2010-06-25T21:44:00.004-04:00

I deliberately let my backyard, become wild and over grown… to give my patio retreat, a more rustic feel. I have the woods, right outside my back door. It feels good to be ONE with nature. It’s been hot, though. Over 90 degrees. A glass of spring water, with a slice of lemon, quenches my thirst, as I try desperately to catch a breeze. Stagnant air and high humidity hinder any progress made in that direction. Beads of sweat line my brow. A makeshift fan made from a paper-plate, exerts more of my energy, than providing relief from the heat… so the idea is abandoned. I persist in my pursuit of a wilderness STAY-CATION. But it requires me to hang tough. Ants and mosquitoes spar for my attention... attacking from every possible angle. Shaking off ankles, or swatting at my arms provides minimal protection, but doesn't ease the pressure of their presence… so the nuisance prevails. I wanted the woods. That’s what I got. Feeling parched, I take another sip of water. The heat is almost unbearable. Overhead, the buzzing of an airplane disrupts my solitude. I gaze up, from my woodsy habitat, trying to zero in on its exact location in the sky. Can’t see it through the blazing sunlight and towering trees. Leaning back in my rocking chair, I relax. Time stands still here, as the minutes click away. The sun eventually sets, and ambient light fades away… while lightening bugs begin to dance around, adding natural footlights to the scenery. It feels good to let the night, gently take hold. Technology takes a backseat out here…. However, the din of the air conditioner unit creates a rhythmic sound that blends with the singing tree frogs, Great Horned Owl's hooting and crickets chirping... and provides a brief reality check. It’s nice to know… civilization is mere footsteps away, should I wimp out and want to go back inside, where it’s nice and cool.

THE BUG

2010-06-18T17:40:00.001-04:00

Earlier in the day, a rather large flying insect invaded the indoor perimeter of our house, slipping past two sleeping cats. Feeling guilty, they let the enemy, invade… the cats, later sprang to action, alerting me to the problem. Meanwhile, this enormous BUG struggled to find a WAY OUT, imprisoned by the obstacles inside our house. Both cats REJOICED at the challenge to chase and try to catch the FLYING invader. They performed amazing acrobatic feats that wooed and delighted me. Occasionally resting, the cats would EYEBALL me curiously, half expecting me, to turn the insect off, like a toy. But when I didn't, they reluctantly continued the chase, running in and out of every room in the house! With wings that fluttered faster than a hummingbird, this BIG bug refused to stay put... flying from place to place, acting crazier than you can imagine, probably because it felt trapped. Jumping on tables, stereo cabinets, kitchen counters and dressers... the cat's encounters with the flying daredevil were fleeting. Armed with a broom, I too joined the chase, trying to conquer this enemy within. At some point though... the whole thing started to get ridiculous. The cats, now bored… deferred to me, to take care of it, once and for all. Satisfied, I had the situation under control, when they saw me armed with our FLY SWATTER… both cats sauntered back into the living room to witness the bug’s demise. Totally exhausted from this INSECT'S escapades, I didn't feel confident... I would ever capture and destroy it. Not one of my feeble attempts resulted in victory. The cats seemed disappointed. DEFEAT STUNG. And since I could no longer pinpoint the bug’s exact location... because it stopped flying frantically about… I gave up the search and went about my business for the rest of the day. The problem is, that an insect, THAT BIG, just doesn't disappear? So either it left the way it came in, or it would be back. Later, as I was climbing into bed… there was a LOUD noise in the living room. I just knew it was that trouble making bug, back to drive us nuts, as our heads hit the pillow. TICKED OFF… I headed to the living room to see what all the commotion was about. After a brief inspection, I didn't see or hear the FLYING insect from earlier in the day... but I'd bet money, our cats knew where it was hiding. Because standing there, in the middle of the floor, were the two cats... playing tug of war with the FLY SWATTER. I headed back to bed, smiling. Let them take care of it.

THE PHOTOGRAPH

2010-06-11T00:46:00.001-04:00

The eyes of a stranger stared back at me from the bin on the counter.Something about that gaze, haunted me. It's a look I've seen before. It seemed to shout, "Help me find my way back home. I want to go home." I asked out loud, "How did your picture end up here?" But the truth be told, I already knew. Discarded deliberately or carelessly... there was no one left,who cared enough to keep them safe. No one, except the shopkeeper... hoping to make a few bucks. Years of clutter accumulate in our homes, as we age.Souvenirs of a bygone era, keep us clinging to the memories. Along the way, we part with a few odds and ends. But not enough to make a dent in the history of our lives.When the time comes to WRAP our EXISTENCE... someone else must come in to sort through all the stuff, we've left behind. It is an arduous task... to whittle down the remains of a persons life... into a KEEP or DISCARD pile. If family does it... the sentimental value of an old tool, piece of jewelry, easy chair, painting, blanket or sewing basket takes on new meaning... to our loved ones. Our history lives. But if strangers do it... material value is all that matters. EVERYTHING becomes MARKETABLE. Even the photographs, that in life, we cradle in the palms of our hands... to relive the most intimate moments of a life, lived... can be sold, without smiles or tears, after our deaths... obliterating our personal history, in the blink of an eye. And if there is no family left to care... this is exactly what happens. HOW sad to have lived, loved and be FORGOTTEN by time. In the END, we too could wind up in an antique shop, staring helplessly out of a bin, on a countertop... in an old photograph marked $3.50... wondering if a stranger will happen by, to take us home again.

THE CELEBRATION

2010-06-05T13:54:00.008-04:00

My birthday came and went, but the lingering effects of it, remain. OUCH! I’m another year closer to sixty. The celebration was small, yet wonderful. Credit goes to my hubby who threw everything together. He always does a great job, year after year. One daughter was here, to party… she has officially moved back home with us. She’s unemployed. The other daughter, phoned home. She was busy at her in-laws, with her hubby and children. It would have been nice to also have them here, for my birthday… but her and I, will do dinner out, instead. My parents, who live back east, also called me… timed at the exact moment I was born, fifty-something years ago. It brought tears to my eyes. I was touched by the outpouring of affection. It made the festivities extra special. Only thing left to do, was to blow out all those candles, open gifts and sample the cake. My presents were simple and sweet. A PURPLE Kindle Cover, to replace the utilitarian black one, that’s now on it. Betsey Johnson perfume. A CD/DVD. A box of French Cremes. Some cash to buy whatever I want. And, last but not least… a gorgeous OPEN HEART pendant. Even the kitty-cats, remembered my special day. They gave me a card. Imagine that? I wonder how they got out of the house to buy it? Must have had help. I was giddy at the notion. It was a nearly perfect day. White cake with butter crème frosting, was next. My mouth had been watering at the thought of that first bite, all week long. So as I cut into the cake, the desire to have a mouthful was getting stronger and stronger. That is, until I saw chocolate crumbs on the cake knife. It stopped me dead in my tracks. I absolutely, positively HATE chocolate cake. Yet… hidden beneath the beautiful exterior, of white butter crème frosting, and pretty pink lettering, was chocolate. I was devastated. It was my birthday. I needed cake. But what could I do? Too late to fix the mistake. It wasn’t my husband’s fault. He had ordered white. So rather than make a big stink out of it, and let it ruin my day and everyone else’s… I declared, I would just finish cutting myself a piece, and then eat, the frosting, only. This delighted my guests. "Let them EAT cake." There’s no accounting for taste. I just hope this wasn't an OMEN of the year ahead.