Whoa!

Excuse me, unless you are all for being ruled by a dictator - no matter what party you lean toward - this should make you and me very, very scared.

Los Angeles Times - ‎11 hours ago‎

The Obama administration aims to put members of the GOP on the spot, forcing them to compromise on issues or be portrayed as obstructionists.

I will admit I didn't get any further than this. It made me so mad; I had to stop reading.

Ghoulish, I Suppose

I had another post planned for today, but I spent the afternoon sitting on the organ bench looking out the living room window and wandering in the yard in the rain watching all the excitement. A pickup went into the river about 300 (?) feet up the road and across the river from my mom's house (directly across from my brother's house).

I don't know if anyone was hurt or not. I certainly hope not, but it would be a miracle if someone wasn't. (I hope it was a good sign that the EMT's never put anyone into the ambulance. Of course, another ambulance could have already been there and gone by the time I noticed anything was going on.)

The pickup truck went over one of the many steep banks on along the river and of course rolled. It was on its wheels with the front end wedged up against a rock as tall and wide as the pickup. It was in the water but right at the edge.

Why am I posting this? Because, there is a wreck along this very stretch of highway at least once every six months if not more often.

Theoretically, there shouldn't be any wrecks along this stretch. It is one of the few straight stretches along the river. There are no blind spots. There is a grade, but it isn't steep. This stretch of highway has two wide lanes with good wide shoulders. One does need to watch for rocks and animals, but that is a given in all mountainous areas.

Why are there wrecks? My theory is this particular wreck was caused by hydroplaning or the driver went to sleep. (I could be wrong.) But really, why wrecks? Because people get in a hurry. It they are headed north, they're going down hill and probably travelling way too fast. If they are headed south, they just came out of several miles of narrow twisting road. They speed up and lose control. And, of course everyone tries to pass everyone else.

Why did I post this? Because I'd would like to ask everyone to slow down and drive safely. Also, please remember - don't use cruise control unless the pavement it perfectly dry.

I like my friends to be alive and unhurt. HUGS

Extreme

Whoa! This is freaking scary.  Anyone could be considered an extremist.    http://www.gopusa.com/news/2009/april/0417_dhs_extremism.shtml

Word Verification

Until recently, I had word verification turned on, because quite frankly, I didn't know it could be turned off. I got hit with some hate comments, so I turned on comment approval, too.

Recently, a blogging friend complained about having to type in that silly jumble of letters. It irritated her that she had to stop to do that after making a comment. Several people wrote into her blog saying they agreed that they didn't like word verification, either. (Actually, I think it is kind of fun to see what nonsense words come up. So? I'm a dork.)

Okay, I thought I'd give it a try. I turned off word verification, but left approval on. Within hours, I got hit. My email was full of "nasty" comments wanting to be added to my blog posts. I won't write any of the words here. I don't want more hits. Some are for products I'll NEVER want; others are for websites I don't wish to EVER visit.

Sorry, but my time is as valuable as everyone elses' time. When these comments come into my inbox, I have to look at these comments, hit reject, and delete these messages. And, I don't even want ANY of this garbage coming into my email inbox.

I'm sorry if I lose a reader or two and/or people who make comments. I hope these people understand why I have verification turned on. I hope they can make a fun game of make up silly definitions to go with the silly words. I hope they still come to visit and make comments. Nobody likes losing a friend over something that trivial.

So, word verification is going back on. Now.

Cigarette smoke

Did you know that a refrigerator that has been in a smoker's house smells like cigarette smoke even on the inside of the refrigerator?  Yes, it does.  Open the door, and the smell will knock you over.

Did you know that a mattress that spends just one night in a smokers house will for weeks reek of cigarette smoke?  Yes, it will.  Even after two weeks of leaving it unmade, having the windows wide open and turning a fan directly on it, it will still reek.  Yes, it will still stink even after vacuuming it and spraying it with Fabreeze.  And even with the air purifier (with the odor remover feature) going it will still stink for at least 4 weeks.

Did you know that after 5 weeks, wood furniture, even after washed, will smell like cigarette smoke?  Yes, it does.

Did you know that cigarette smoke stays in a computer and will eventually damage it?  Yes, it does.

Do you know that walls and wallpaper and carpet can hold stale cigarette smoke smell for more than 20 years?  Yes, they will.

Now, why I know these things:

The refrigerator and the wood furniture came from my brother and SIL's house.  These items were in exchange for what they took of Mom's.  The mattress spent one night up there.  Thank goodness, my SIL didn't like it.  They both smoke in the house.  I have worked my butt off to get rid of the smell.  While the smell isn't gone, it has lessened.  I can still smell it when I come in from outside.  One of the best cures turns out to be LOTS of house plants!

The walls, wallpaper, and carpet are in my house.  No one has smoked in my house for over twenty years (previous owners smoked - we haven't ever smoked).  When we come home on a damp cold day and the house has been closed up, it still reeks of stale cigarette smoke - after 20 plus years.  (We haven't changed some things, because the foundation needs to be fixed first.)

My husband works on computers.  Sometimes he brings home the ones that he has to run diagnostics on.  One day after complaining of the cigarette smell, he had me look at the inside...

Why do I care about the smell?  I'm allergic to cigarette smoke.  Okay, I'm not allergic as in I'm going to swell up and die, but I get all stopped up, a sore throat, and a headache - immediately - even before I smell or realize there is cigarette smoke present.   Sometimes the smell even makes me sick to my stomach.  Seems a few family members have forgotten this.  And, I have spent the past few weeks feeling like I have a cold, but it is "just" allergies.  Yes, I know - gripe and moan.

Come on Baby Light My Fire

A thrilling title for a not so thrilling subject. (groan)

Remember junior and senior high science classes?  I always dreaded the chapters on heat and electricity.  I thought when I got out of high school I'd be through having to study about these two "horrid" subjects.  Oh, no.  They popped up in college - several times.  Now, as a home owner these subjects never go away.

Electricity.  What would we do with out it?  Sure, we CAN, but who really wants to? 

Heat.   This is what heats my mom's house:

Pellet Stove

(pic source:  Quadra Fire)

(I love the English language.  It is a stove that burns pellets.  It is not made of pellets.  lol)

Pellets

They look kind of like miniature Presto Logs

This pellet stove gives off a wonderful warm heat like a wood fire, but it is controlled by a thermostat.  The stove turns on and off  like a furnace, so there are drafts.  It takes electricity to light the stove, control the thermostat, turn the auger, and run the fans.

The stove has to be fed the pellets.  One needs a large dry place to store the pellets, and they have to be hauled into the house.  The bags are heavy, and it takes about a bag a day to warm the house.  The stove has to be cleaned often - similar to a fireplace.  In other words, a pellet stove is pretty "high maintenance".  The advantage of pellets over wood is that they are fairly clean to store.  Also, there are no splinters, chopping, bugs, dirt.

Update:  Aunt Amelia had some good questions.  Before my step-dad got too sick, he brought in the pellets as needed.  Then, Mom did, by the small bucket-full.  (My step-dad didn't want anyone to help - dementia.)  When my step-dad passed away, my brother would bring in a bag of pellets, but Mom still had to carry them from the back porch through the house to the stove.  Then I actually had a brilliant idea.  Doesn't happen often.  lol   My brother dug one of these out of the shed (only ours isn't so bright and shiny):

The wash boiler sits right next to the stove and holds two bags of pellets.  Mom didn't have to haul pellets anymore.  All she had to do is use a scoop to fill the hopper.


So far my husband has been packing in the bags and filling the boiler.  Bless him.  If I have to, I can go to the shed and get them by the bucket full.  I can lift a bag, but I'd rather not.

AND this:

 Wall heaters

(A heater that is installed in the wall.)

Baseboard heaters

(A heater that is installed instead of a baseboard.)

Only instead of pretty white ones, these are the old ugly tan ones.

My boring point is that all of these take electricity to work.  This area is notorious for the power going off.  The only thing in the whole house that is on a battery back up is the computer.  I don't think the computer will keep the pipes or inhabitants from freezing.

UPDATE 2:  In years past when the power went off, my step-dad would bring in the generator.  Mom couldn't do that, and I don't think I can, either.

On the bright side - at least there are heaters.  Some people aren't so lucky.

Now for your listening pleasure:
This is the short sweet version (about a 15 second commercial first, sorry).  The embedding is disabled on this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0LtPVBqQsf8

Long live version - watch at your own risk:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6O6x_m4zvFs&feature=fvw

Random Bits and Pieces

These two are among the best children any parent could ask for. (Of course, I'm not biased or anything. lol) I love both of you very much. Please stay the lovely people that you are.

***

Now I have to vent. Feel free to skip these next two paragraphs.

Now, I'm going to say that I am sick to death of two of my friends' children. (I could post pictures of them, too, but I don't want to see their "ugly" faces right now.) They are rude, sullen, inconsiderate, selfish, completely self-centered, and sometimes down right mean. And, my friends have let them get away with being that way. They both have let those children (all grown, by the way) walk all over them.

It has gotten so bad, that I cannot stand to be around any of the children and some of their children. I'm tired of listening to my one friend complain about how awful her children act and how they treat her. I'm having a difficult time staying friends with these two women because I all I want to do is yell and scream at them to get backbones. I want to tell them that they are the mothers and grandmothers and have every right to demand - no matter how old the children and grandchildren are - that they be treated with kindness and respect. I have dropped many hints. They don't get it. Unfortunately, dropping friends isn't easy. And, it wouldn't be at all kind. This is a very small town, and we all belong to the same church.

***
Okay, on to happier things.

Yesterday. Out for a Chinese food lunch and then thrift store shopping. Some good bargains, a gorgeous day, and a great time. What else can I say? :)

Picked up several cups ($2.00 for all!) that match the dishes that are in the old trailer we use as a guest house. (The place actually belongs to my brother, but the whole family uses it.) Every time company comes, we have had to take cups from home or from mom's so people can have coffee, cocoa, or tea. No more. These can just stay there.

From McCall's Patterns copyright 1963:


Side 1

Side 2 -

This is one of oldest of the 41 patterns I purchased. Yes, forty-one. Thirty-nine of them were 10 cents a piece. They are different kinds and sizes, older and newer, children, teen, adult, and all kinds of crafts. I hope all the pieces are there, but for the price I really can't complain.

Two of the patterns were $2.00 a piece. One is a Debbie Mumm pattern for Christmas quilted wall hanging. The other is a Joan's Creation pattern for a Christmas room box using fabric for everything except the walls and floor. Even those are covered with appropriate fabric. Right up my alley. I love fabric and doll houses!




Also purchased a largish box of fabric scraps and remnants. $1.00. In it were several of these little guys and gals. There are three "finished" blocks and some more of the pieces cut out. These are a little dirty, so I hope I can get them clean. Everything in the box is jumbled, so I'll have to sort carefully. Also in the box are doll clothes - some cut out, some partially sewn. There are two little sun dresses cut out; these look to be about a child's size 2, or 3. (I know I already have at least one similar box of stuff that *I* haven't finished - oh dear.)

Copyright 1958. My cost: 25 cents





Doesn't the Mardi Gras recipe sound yummy? Uck! (Click to see a larger picture.) Maybe it would be okay if one substituted ham, roast beef, turkey, or salami for the tongue. (I like the taste of beef tongue just not the texture.)

One more:

Copyright 1972. My next to most expensive purchase, so I really debated on this one. I'm anxious to see if any of these (besides spaghetti sauce) really do freeze well. (As in tasting good after they're thawed and reheated, but I'm sure you all knew what I meant. grins)

Oh, and I purchased some very nice baby clothes for one of those ungrateful little twerps mentioned above. At least she said thank you even though she didn't look very excited.

***

I hope to be home until Sunday afternoon. Monday, I will take Mom to the oncologist, then will stay with her for at least another days (if not longer). I really would like to "settle" one place or the other. I really need my computer, paperwork, files, etc. so I can catch up on bookkeeping, and I would like to have my own sewing machine to use. Grandma's old one works great, but it doesn't zig-zag.

***

Last week Mom and I prepared and froze at least 20 quarts of tomatoes and canned 32 pints and 8 quarts of peaches. One quart didn't seal, so I didn't count that one. Mom froze at least a dozen bell peppers. I still have tomatoes and peppers coming on, so there will be more to do.

Changing of the Guard

Hmmm, when I was there, I don't remember anyone giving orders. I thought I remembered complete silence. I also thought the soldiers did more maneuvers with their backs to each other. And, I would have sworn the guards were Marines. Anyone have an answer/reply to this? Update on Tuesday: Do I have two different changing of the guards confused????

Prepare to be furious and/or weep.
Several years ago, I had the privilege of watching the Changing of the Guard at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier (in Arlington, VA). The temperature was at least 103 degrees with probably 100 percent humidity. (A thunderstorm was forming.) I was standing at the back of the scant crowd, trying to get my small child into some shade. (The rest of my family was up in the front of the crowd.) A young man (probably a little younger than I was at the time), holding a toddler, was sharing the meager shade.

I was watching, absolutely in awe of the precision of the soldiers. I was in awe of the hours and hours the soldiers had to spend practicing. I was in awe that these soldiers volunteered and considered it an honor to do what I would consider an incredibly boring job. I was in awe that the soldiers would stand out in the heat and sun, pelting rain and lightning, or wind, ice, and snow. I was thinking of the parents who lost their sons and never received their remains or knew for sure what happened to them. I was thinking how quiet our children were being considering how uncomfortable they must have been. (It was almost as if these two little ones knew not to make the slightest whine or squeak.) I was hoping that a day never came when we might have to send our children off to fight a war.

When the changing of the guard was over and the crowd started to disperse, the man said, "What a waste of time." I was absolutely speechless. I couldn't think of one single thing to say to him. All I could do was stand and stare at him.

I have often wondered what would have happened to that man if anyone besides me had heard him say that. I have often wondered what became of that man. (All these years I have been completely disgusted with him and yet pitied him. I have even prayed for him.) I have often wondered what became of that little boy; he'd be 17 or 18 now - just about the right age to join the service. Did the little boy grow up hating the military and/or the US? Or, could he possibly have grown up proud to be an American?

Update to Story to Go with...

K's shoes are too tight. May I please cry?

Story to go with last post's pictures

You know how you are around someone everyday, and how you don't see the changes in a person until something happens? Luckily, this time it was just a couple of car trips and not something drastic.

I admit it. I'm was being petty and childish. I was irritated to the point of wanting to bang my head and hers against a brick wall. Now I feel bad that I was so annoyed.

I will explain that this person has always talked a lot and not always listened to the answers to the questions she asked. Lately, she has become a little hard of hearing, but this was different...

It all started like this:

For weeks our elderly neighbor, K, had been telling H (another friend) and me that she wanted to go shopping - just to go wander around the stores. There wasn't anything urgent that she needed, so just sometime would do. We told her that one or both of us would take her IF her son couldn't and IF we could take her car. (She has a nice Honda.) Well, we were busy. The weather had been crappy (sorry, but it had), and the roads had not been in the best driving condition. And, our shopping center is 80 miles away - one way.

Suddenly, about 3 weeks ago, this shopping trip became of utmost importance. K needed to go now!

Please realize that friend H works 5 to 6 days a week plus shares her car with her high-schooler who has a job after school and on weekends. H's other "car" is a big pickup which her husband needs for his jobs. I drive a big pickup, and my husband's jobs take him places that our big truck can't get into. K has difficultly getting around so taking any pickup was out of the question. K told both H and me that her son couldn't take her. That made sense. All "our" men are self-employed, and they all work 6 to 7 days a week. So, I could take her if I had a car to drive.

When we asked about taking her car, she said she'd drive it. She didn't want anyone else to drive her car. (No way was I going to ride with her. That's a whole "nother" story.)

So on Sunday almost 3 weeks ago, H told our elderly friend that she'd made arrangements to take a day off, and they'd go shopping on Thursday (2 weeks ago today). Between Tuesday's reminding phone call and Thursday, K made all kinds of other plans for Thursday - totally blew H off. (I didn't know this until several days later.)

The next day (Friday) K told me that no one would take her shopping, and she really needed some things. My husband needed some parts (he could have ordered them), but the clincher was that our daughter was going to be in "town". He hadn't seen her for a few weeks, so we told K we'd take her with us. She could go to any store she wanted, but that we were meeting our daughter for lunch. Suddenly, that was too much running around, and K didn't want to go. (Weird since K has always treated our daughter like her own grandchild.) We had to talk like a son of a gun to get K to agree to go with us.

Saturday morning we go to get K. Her son was just coming up the walk, and we got to talking. He didn't even know his mother was going anywhere. And, his mother had never mentioned to him that she wanted to go shopping. He said could have taken her that very day if she had asked.

***
We chat all the way to town, and everything is pretty okay until we turn to go to Costco. We go in the "back way" which is a 55 mile an hour road (vs. 25-35 mph through town). It misses all the stop lights, cuts off some mileage, and on a busy day can save 15 to 20 minutes. K just had a fit. Where are we going? Why are we going this way? I've never been this way before. Where are we? I would have been there by now. Husband did get in a word to say we would miss all the stop lights this way. I never have to stop for the lights. (Now, that is just plain scary.) And on and on it went. She wouldn't listen to anything anyone said.

We got to Costco. Oh, no. We can't park in the handicap parking spaces. We should have brought the permit. No, the permit goes with your car. That doesn't matter. No one will check. Park in the handicap place. My husband drove around a little and was able to park in a space right next to a handicap spot. This isn't a handicap spot. I can't walk that far. We got her a cart and got her into the store and K said, "I'll meet you up front when I'm done" and took off like a teenager in a clothing store. Husband and I went different directions, too. We both saw some friends and stopped to visit with them. We both used the restroom, caught up with each other and did all of our shopping and checked out. No K. I finally went back into the store part of the building. She had been wandering all over looking for us. No, she hadn't been up front. Why did I need to do that? I got her up to the check out stand. She handed her card to the cashier. The card had expired. Why had it expired? K stood there and argued. Oh, I told my daughter-in-law I didn't need it anymore. I guess she took my word for it and didn't renew it. No, I don't need a day pass; I have a card. She still stood and argued. She wouldn't let me pay. People were lining up behind us. I finally just turned my back on her, handed the cashier my card, and wrote the check. (Thank goodness I had enough money in my checking account!) Then she had a fit about bill total. I basically just pushed her out of the store.

K needed to go to the shoe store. This is a real shoe store where they still measure your feet, but this is a very little store that caters mostly to ranchers, loggers, and serious athletes. K started in on the store owner (thank goodness it was the owner and not hired help) about the lack of selection. The man carefully measured K's swollen feet and brought out several pairs of shoes that K had picked out. In every color but beige. I want beige; can't you see that I'm wearing khaki colored slacks? He takes the shoes back and brings out beige shoes. But! She doesn't like any of the styles. Finally, she finds a pair of tannish colored shoes that she thinks will work. Yes, they're comfortable. I *watched* as the store owner checked the heel for slippage, the toes to make sure they weren't not too short, not too tight across the top, etc. etc. She seemed to be pleased with her choice.

We actually have a nice lunch. Dad and daughter didn't get to visit much because K talked the whole time. At least we saw daughter, and we were able to give her some groceries, her mail, and (finally) her dancing shoes.

Staples next. Husband goes in to buy what he needs. K needs White Out - the ribbon kind. She described the packaging, but wouldn't get out of the car to go look herself. Of course, Staples doesn't have any in the exact packaging so it can't possibly be the same type I use. She literally threw the package at me. (I now have 2 packages of White Out ribbon tape that I may never use.)

Then K suddenly decided that my husband had a job to do in "town". No matter how much we explained she couldn't understand that the parts were for a job at home. This went on - while we gassed up, while we were in Safeway, until we stopped at Baskin-Robbins - which she said she wanted to do.

Why did we stop here? I don't want any ice cream. You don't need to be eating any of that (to me who was just drinking water because by this time I had a horrible headache and was sick by to my stomach). It's fattening. You're too fat; you need to be watching what you eat. Quit eating so much ice cream and candy. You never use that treadmill you bought...

One more stop so we could use the restrooms. (This Baskin and Robbins doesn't have any for public use.) No. I don't need to use the toilet. I don't know why you always have to use the restroom. I'm fine. I can wait until we get home. On and on and on. (We were gone from home for more than 7 hours, and she never once used the restroom.)

Finally, she thanked my husband for taking time out to go to town. She admitted that she couldn't have done it by herself. It was almost pleasant on the way home. Then we unloaded her groceries. That's when she discovered that she had purchased the "wrong" bathroom cleaner. I told her I had at home a new bottle of the brand she likes. I'd trade. No, I'll do without.

That was just the first trip and doesn't even begin to explain why I posted the pictures.

Good Friday, early morning, K calls and says she's going to town. The shoes are a size 9W. I always wear a 9 1/2 M. They're too short. (Remember, I watched as he fitted those shoes on her. They were not too short or too wide or ___.) I have to take them back. I called. They don't have any others that will fit. Do I want to go with her? No, I really have work to do, but I'd be glad to return the shoes for her when I go with Mom the next time. No, I'm going today by myself. Well, of course, my conscience kicked in big time. I called her back and told her I would go IF I could drive. She agreed, but oooo did I pay for it.

We started out of town. Suddenly she had to go to the bathroom. We turned around. I remembered to ask if she had told her son that she was going to be gone for the day? No, it isn't any of his business. Besides, I called. Neither he nor S (his wife) answered so I hung up. If he can't answer his phone, he doesn't need to know where I am. They have an answering machine, so she either didn't let it ring long enough or decided she didn't want to leave a message. So while she was in the bathroom (clear at the back of her house in her bedroom), I called her son to tell him where we were going. Would you believe it? She heard me!

We started out again. We got to about where the second picture is taken, and she asks, Why aren't there any trees on the Prairie? I just don't understand why there aren't any trees. Where I grew up has lots of trees. I grew up with trees. Did the farmers cut them down? What are those towers? (cell phone) I don't know why everyone has to have cell phones. Why do the trees only grow in the draws? Why is this a Prairie? This went on clear past where the first picture was taken. Pictures 3 and 4 show where basically natural prairie meets where there the snow sticks long enough for there to be moisture for trees to grow.

Then we get to about pictures 5 and 6. Look at this wasted land. It isn't good for anything. Why isn't is good for anything? Can't grow vegetables. Why don't they grow vegetables on the Prairie? This land isn't good for anything. There's only rock here. No topsoil. Wasted. The growing season on the Prairie isn't long enough for vegetables and there isn't enough water. The farmers grow grain, peas, lentils, hay and rape. Well, what good is that? It's not vegetables. The grain is used for flour and cereals. We eat the peas and lentils. Hay feeds the cows, and you eat beef. This is rock and pine trees. Wasted land. Where I lived we grew vegetables. Hmmmph, it's not vegetables.

Shoe store: Owner isn't in. There is a young very pregnant lady "on duty". She brings over some shoes, but they aren't the right kind. She goes in the back and rummages around. She comes out with a pair a beige shoes in a 9 1/2 M. K goes balistic. That man said he didn't have any more shoes in my size (which was a true statement). Doesn't he know what he has? He didn't tell me the truth. Many more statements. K tried on the shoes and decided that because they were marked the size she has worn for the last few years that the shoes fit. The clerk kept showing K how they were too tight across the arch and how they slipped on the heel. But, K had to have those, because they are my size. That girl had a smile on her face, but here were tears in her eyes when we left. I apologized.

Staples for that elusive White Out. K headed for where it used to be. I told her that it was now in a different spot. WRONG. When she finally listened and found the White Out, they didn't have the exact same package as the one she uses.

Lunch: Took K to a restaurant she'd never been to. Thought it would be a treat. This isn't the restaurant I thought you were talking about. Why are we going here? This [dish] isn't what I thought it would be. Doesn't taste anything like I thought it would. Don't leave a tip. This isn't very good. Well, I'm sorry, but I was buying the lunch. If it was bad, why did she eat it all? My lunch was really good. I left a tip. And heard about it. There is a really nice restroom here, do you want to use it before we head home? No, I can wait. I just don't understand why you always need to use the restroom.

Leaving the parking lot: Too much traffic to make a left hand turn across three lanes, so I turned right. Wrong. Where are you going? This is my car. You're supposed to turn left. You can turn on any of the streets. Why aren't you turning? When I tried to explain where I was going it just got worse. I was headed to the by-pass by the levee. Tooks us less than a mile out of our way. The fruit trees, daffodils, and forsythia were in bloom. There were ducks and geese in the ponds, and people out walking on the levee. The sun was shining. It was glorious. She didn't even see it.

Things calmed down and were rather pleasant until we were almost to picture 1 again. (Remember this was Good Friday and there was lots of traffic.) A passing car was coming at us and getting way into my comfort zone. I put on the brakes - firmly, but not hard. Why did you do that? We had lots of room. You didn't needn't to slow down. I don't know why you just wouldn't let me drive. I wouldn't have slowed down.

Just wasted land. No trees. No vegetables.

Home to my house. Now I have to re-adjust all the mirrors and the seat. You should have just let me drive. Why did you bring your coat? It was nice out. I never carry a big purse. You should just carry your wallet. By this time I wasn't nice any longer. I sure my, "See you at church later" was less than civil. I was awful. I'm not sure I even spoke to her at church.

Yesterday, I was telling my mom about our two trips to town (mom had been gone so we hadn't visited for a while). Mom said one word, "Dementia".

Then today, I remembered. When Grandma used to get like that it meant she had a urinary track, bladder, or kidney infection. K wouldn't use the restroom those two days. I wonder... I will be making a phone call to one of her sons tomorrow.

Great Day in the Mornin'

If you are squeamish, please don't read any further.

I'm actually in a really good mood. The funny thing is I shouldn't be.

When I went to put the dogs out this morning, one or both of the dogs (that stay downstairs) had been sick - both ends. What a disgusting mess. It was so bad that in a several spots it was soaked clear through two layers of really thick cardboard, the carpet, the pad, and into the wood. Luckily, most of the actual mess was on the cardboard, so that was easy to dispose of. But, most of the rest of the carpet was soaked and the pad was pretty damp. So, I spent my whole morning ripping out the carpet and pad in half of the back room and doing a quick clean up of the floor. (The rest of the room is blocked off and used for storage.) Luckily, the carpet was in bad shape before this happened. (In a little while I'll go put down a sheet of plastic and put flattened cardboard boxes over the top.)

About lunch time, I remembered I hadn't taken anything out of the freezer for dinner. When I opened the freezer door I got a face full of frozen food - hard packages of meat that after hitting me in the face fell and landed on my toes.

Then, I decided that since the ice finally melted from in front of the garage door, I'd better get the potting soil out of the garage so that I can take care of the house plants that the kitten tried to destroy. I opened the garage door. The rolling cart for scooting under the car fell (why was it standing on end just inside the door???) and scraped down my shins while a garbage bag of recycling hit me in the head (recycling has to go to another town) and the plastic end of leaf rake hit me in the face (why wasn't it hung up?). Also, several empty cardboard boxes fell over. I did screech; I don't know if I swore or not. Did I get the potting soil? NO. DH has old computers stacked on top of the sacks of potting soil (HUH?). I was no way in .... going to move those heavy things. (And to think that DH didn't want me to buy potting soil the other day because "we have some in the garage".)

I should be used to this by now. It really, really is a good thing that I am in a good mood. I'm even going to be nice and cook dinner.

Cluttered by the Decluttering Blitz

It's everywhere. All we hear about is declutter, declutter, declutter. Buy this book on how to organize, indiscriminately throw 27 things away, get rid of everything you don't need right now. On and on and on.

On November 21, 2008, I joined FLY just to see what it was about. After several hours of "arguing" with my computer, I finally got a new email account set up and started to receive messages from FLY. In approximately 53 days I have received hundreds of emails from the FLYLady and her ilk. Today I deleted 598 unread messages. Remember that is less than 2 months! That is an average of almost 12 a day. Think how many more it would be if I knew how many read emails I have previously deleted.

I should have known better when I saw the FLYLady web page. Talk about CLUTTER! The site gives me a headache. (See Flylady.net) Oh, and they sell things - t-shirts, diaries, calendars, etc. - more clutter!

So now that I've got that off my chest, I'm going unsubscribe to Fly Lady and see if I can close that email account. You might have noticed that I already deleted one blog. I'll start decluttering by getting rid of some time-wasters.

My apologies to those who like the FLYLady.

ARGGGG! Was I justified?

Okay, I admit it. I committed a sin. I just told off a customer.

One of our customers has called ELEVEN times today looking for my husband. I finally answered this last time, because I was sick of the phone ringing. I wasn't extremely rude. I just told the customer that if J was home he would have answered the phone! The customer hung up on me. LOUDLY.

Guess what? This customer doesn't have the money to pay the repair bill, but he still wants his computer TODAY. NOW. What does he do with his computer? Play games.

Poorest excuse of a library

I think I'm going to cry.

I just had the most disappointing trip to the library. The book selection is terrible! "They" have wiped out almost all of the paperbacks (mysteries, sci fi, fantasy, westerns, romance) and at least half of the young adult section.

I looked for some of my favorite authors in the hardback section. I've read them all. I guess we're supposed to order our books from another library now, and wait for them to come in. If that is the case, why bother with a library at all?

Why Wives Pick on Husbands

My husband is a computer whiz, geek, repair person.

The mouse or whatever else that is controlling the cursor is making the cursor do crazy things. The cursor flies all over and sometimes disappears. Evidently it only happens when I use the computer. Several weeks ago I mentioned the problem and have mentioned and/or asked about it many times since.

Last night the cursor was being completely weird, so I asked my husband if the optical mouse wore out.
Answer, "Not very well."

Not understanding his answer, I asked, "Do you have to replace optical mice often?"
Answer, "Not very well."

I swear, I didn't say another word. (But, I DID write about it!)

Does This Sound Familiar?

A long boring "Who's on First?" type story that could be called "Inane Conversations that Almost Caused a Full Blown Argument" or "The Trouble One Little Word Can Cause".

First, a little background info so that this tale might make some sense.

A few weeks ago a brush fire started across the road from where my husband often works. In the rush to get to the fire, my firefighter-husband-who-knows-better didn't stop to grab his fire gear out of the car. Not to mention the safety rules he broke, he basically ruined a fairly new pair of $100 shoes and a tore the back out of a good shirt. In a very weak attempt to defend my husband, this fire did need to be jumped on extremely fast because the wind was blowing, and the fire was very near houses and businesses.

Jump to this past Thursday (the day before Halloween) at about 5:15 a.m. Husband, just before leaving for work, says to sleepy wife (me), "I'm staying at your folks' tonight so that I can catch up on some jobs in the area. Also, I have several stops to make after work on Friday, so I'll be home pretty late. I know it is Halloween; sorry I won't be there to help." Me to husband, "That's fine. I'll see you tomorrow night. Watch for rocks and deer. Love you."

Later in the day it dawns on me - my husband has been home to help on Halloween maybe twice? in the past 15 years. The last time he stayed home he complained for days about the interruptions and how he couldn't get any work done. So, of course, I got to wondering why in the world would he even mention that he was sorry for not being home on Halloween. Also, I realized I hadn't asked where he would be stopping nor had he told me.

Jump to five-ish Halloween evening.

By now I'm a little annoyed and concerned. I haven't heard from my husband, and he is out of cell phone range. Then, Mom calls to tell me that just after lunch, my husband had taken one of the fire engines out to a fire. She hadn't seen him, so she figured he was still on the fire. And, at this very same time, trick or treaters start knocking on the door. And, the business phone starts ringing. While trying to keep the dogs quiet, answer the door, and hand out candy, I'm trying to apologize and explain to customers that 'J' was on a fire and that I didn't have a list of his stops so that was why they hadn't been called.

Much later in the evening while children were still trick or treating, J pulls in.
The first thing out of his mouth was, "What do you have fixed for dinner?"
I see a flash of red, but just say, "Leftovers."
He grumbles and says, "I had leftovers last night. Is there enough?"
I come back with, "Yes, and I hope you didn't ruin your new shirt."
My husband said, "No, this time I wore my jacket."

In my husband's fantasy world, a hot meal would have been waiting for him. I would have completely ignored the trick or treaters. I would have known which stops he was going to make, and I would have called those customers. In reality, while answering the door and listening to his fire-war stories and grumbles, I sort of helped warm up his dinner. He insisted that I eat, too, (I really didn't want to) so I reluctly shut off the porch light so we wouldn't be interrupted.

***

Another little tidbit to know is that in our house there is a door between the entry hall and the landing to the upstairs where our bedroom is. My husband always hangs his jackets on the door knobs so that when there is a fire call in the middle of the night he can quickly grab a jacket as he rushes by. (He is a voluteer on three fire departments.)

Jump to this morning.

I was looking at the two jackets on the door knobs and asked, "Which jacket did you have on the fire? I'll need to wash it." (They both looked a little dirty, but not fire-filthy.)
Husband says, "The cloth one." (Hello, they're both cloth - one is nylon, the other cotton drill.)
Me, "Do you mean the bright red one?" (The cotton drill.)
Husband, "Yes."
Me, "It's too clean. I thought you said you wore your jacket. Did you have your fire gear over your jacket? Weren't you too hot?"
Husband, "I had on my fire gear. I had my jacket with me in the truck. I didn't say I wore it."
Me, snottily, "I just asked a simple question."

Lunch time comes and I'm thinking, "Without starting a fight, how do I ask him what he actually wore on the fire?" Ahh, okay.
Me, "Did you wear your fire shirt? Do I need to wash it?" (Yellow fire shirt is worn for wild fires vs. bulky heavy protective clothing used for fighting structure fires.)
Husband, "No, I wore my structure turnouts. I'll need to take them to the dry cleaners one of these first days."

Ahhh, he had on his structure turnout coat. So explains the use of the word jacket.

Disturbed

I'm becoming alarmed about what might be a "new" trend of thinking. Maybe it has been around for a while, and I'm just learning about it. Maybe I just stumbled upon a small pocket (can't think of the word I want to use) who believes "this".

"This" is pushing feminity or being feminine. "This" doesn't sound so bad or frightening on the surface. After all, I am a grown woman who has been married for over thirty years. I have children and grandchildren. I believe in families. I know how to love, nuture, laugh, and cry. I know how to cook, bake bread, preserve, garden, sew, and clean. I can read the Bible, read poetry, do embroidery, play the piano, and even sing (plug your ears!). (Unfortunately, I never learned to dance.) Some would consider me kind and caring. I try to be respectful to others. I think I know how to pray. I know how to behave in our church. (I even know how to make candles, milk a cow, gather and candle eggs, pluck a fowl, and could probably spin wool, weave fabric, and make baskets if I had to.) These are considered feminine traits.

However! What I have been reading suggests that a wife should always be subservient to her husband. These groups or people are spewing that women should not involve themselves in politics. The husband should be the one to tell his wife how to think. The husband should fight all his wife's battles. The wife should never say an unkind word or raise her voice or argue. The husband should take care of all the finances. And, the women should always wear feminine, flattering dresses and do only "feminine" things. Old writings? NO! Only from one religious group? NO, several.

Still doesn't sound so bad? What would happen if your husband passed away? Would you know how to take care of yourself? If not, who would take care of you? Do you want to give up the right to think for yourself? Do you want to give up the right to vote? Do you want to give up the right to be a doctor, lawyer, or business woman? Do you want to stand there and let your husband and/or others "trample" you? Do you want to give up the right to wear jeans :)???

One place I read went on to say that the 1970's feminism movement was the cause of man's irresponsibily toward society and the reason that men now treat women so poorly. Maybe, some, but it even went on to say that men of the older generations were responsible bread-winners and were kind, considerate, and gentle to their wives and families. It didn't say generally, either.

HUH? What about all the men who deserted their families - way before 1970's feminism? What about the men who raped women and got away with it - way before 1970's feminism? What about husbands that beat their wives and/or children - way before 1970's feminism? What about the men who considered it their right to have multiple affairs - way before 1970's feminism? What about the men who never did a day's work - way before feminism. There might have been some surface social curtesies. By digging into your own family history, reading history, or listening to older people talk about their lives shows that men were really no better before the 1970's.

For the most part, women have always been strong. They have kept "civilization" going while raising their children, whether by working to keep a household together, by working on their farm, by working in a factory, or by scrubbing toilets. They have fought for their family's safety. They have always done what needed to be done.

Feminism may have gone overboard, but:
I excerise my right to vote for whom I please. This is relatively new right for women in the U.S. Please take advantage of this!
I reserve the right to wear jeans.
I reserve the right argue with my husband if I think he is wrong.
I reserve the right to yell and/or swear and/or even drink alcohol if I wish.
I reserved the right to say how many children I wanted. (There are your husband's wishes to consider and also religious issues, but I personally don't believe in knowingly (key word "knowingly") endangering your life and/or the child's life to have a child. To me, this is the same as playing Russian roulette or trying to commit suicide or infantcide. (Hey, I wanted to be alive to take care of my children myself.) There are those that say birth control is evil or a form of murder. Who are we to say that God didn't intend to have birth control discovered? (This should be thoroughly discussed with your husband-to-be.)
I pay the bills (but try to keep my husband informed).
I reserve the right to read whatever I want to read.
I reserve the right to go back to college and study whatever I want.
I reserve the right to work outside the home if I wish.
I reserve the right to not clean, cook, pamper, or pander to my husband's every wish.
If I am doing the same job as a man, I expect equal pay.
If my husband should beat me, I would expect him to be arrested and jailed.
I reserve the right of being a wife to ask my husband for help if I need it.
I expect help from my husband even when I don't ask.
I reserve the right to get a divorce if life with my husband should become unbearable.
I like the fact that if I wanted, I could buy and own land without a co-signer or without my husband's approval.
I like the fact that I can go buy my own car without my husband's approval.
I like that I can actually own something. Period. Used to be that if the husband died, the only thing the woman owned was what he willed her or her silver - if she was lucky enough to have any.
And, just so you know, I absolutely love and respect my husband even if he does drive me a little nuts sometimes!

I don't know about the rest of you, but I am certainly glad women are no longer mere chattels.