Mama K

My ER Visit

2010-10-09T21:04:00.000-07:00

Several weeks ago, my boss sent me a nasty email. I responded as I usually do to a nasty email - I could feel my blood pressure and heart rate increasing as my face got red and I thought "why do I work here, anyway?" I went home and ranted and raved to my poor husband. And then I realized I had a headache. And I thought this is stupid; I have given myself a headache. I need to learn to take things more in stride. But that damn headache lasted 5 days, and no pain reliever would make a dent in it.

Then my annual severe cough - slight fever thing, where I can't breathe - came along. This thing lasts for weeks and I hate it. When I talk, I cough, and when I cough, I can't stop, and then I can't breathe. That came Thursday night.

On Sunday night, I went to bed and realized I had a severe headache. I managed to come downstairs and get some aspirin but there was no change. And then, to my horror, I felt nauseous. I am quite proud of my record of not throwing up for 22 years and intend to keep adding to that record. I have a huge terror of throwing up. I realized the light was causing part of my pain, as was any noise.

My husband came up to bed and seeing my clutching my head in pain, suggested we go to the emergency room. I said no, it's a headache. I'm embarrassed to go to the ER with a headache. I went to the bathroom and turned the light on and realized the vision in my left eye was completely blurred. That part freaked me out. So I said ok, let's go. He asked if he should call an ambulance and I said no way; you have to lie down in an ambulance and I was already nauseous and I get motion sick.

So I threw on some sweats and off we went to the ER, at 1:30 AM. I expected a full lobby but it was empty. I was put in a room and sent down for a cat scan. About an hour later, an ER dr came in and said most likely nothing was wrong, but the radiologist saw something of concern on the cat scan and suggested an MRI. So they were calling in a tech to do an MRI. Another hour went by, as I imagined the brain tumor or aneurysm bursting in my brain. The tech arrived at 4 AM and I was wheeled down for an MRI. I could hear the MRI tech talking and she mentioned she was talking to the radiologist, so I assumed the MRI would be read right away.

Many hours passed, but at least I was getting anti-nausea drugs and morphine in my IV so I was kind of out there. To make a long story short, we waited several hours for the MRI results. Finally the dr came in and said the MRI was fine and she noticed my eye was red - did my eye hurt? I said actually, yes it did. She brought in another dr and they tried to take the pressure in my eye. They said their results showed very high pressure but they wanted an eye dr to check it. They told me to see an eye dr now in the building and to return to the ER.

So off we went to see the eye dr. He took my pressure. I never knew much about glaucoma and eye pressure, but he seemed very concerned. 15 is the norm and my left eye was 70. My father had lost the vision in his eye when his was at 50, I later found out. So the eye dr did a laser surgery and the pressure moved down slightly. He said he had never known the laser surgery to fail. He called a glaucoma specialist, whose office was down the street, and sent me there. He said she was waiting for me.

So off we went to the ER, who said there was something on the cat scan and MRI that was of concern and a neurologist suggested admitting me for further work-up. We said no, the eye was a critical problem.

We got to the glaucoma specialist's office and my pressure had gone up. She gave me drops. The pressure did not go down. She told me I would not be happy with her, but she had to stick a needle in my eye. It's a good thing I was still doped up from morphine - I cannot handle anyone coming near my eye under normal circumstances. She stuck the needle in my eye, did another laser surgery, gave me pills and more drops and told me I had come very close to losing my vision.

We got home at 5:00. Never ate anything all day but had no appetite.

Had to go back to the glaucoma specialist the next day and the pressure had come down. Someone called it a medical crisis. The next day I had to get the laser surgery in my other eye.

Since my dad lost his vision after a botched cataract surgery that resulted in the removal of his eye (and macular degeneration in the other eye), I have always wondered how anyone can live with no vision. I am very thankful that it was caught and that drs were willing to drop what they were doing to spend the time treating me.

Still have the damn headache but am feeling lucky after this ordeal.

The Daughter Graduates

2010-06-15T19:46:00.000-07:00

Our graduate, Heather Grace - "looking into the future" as my husband describes the pose....

It seems like just yesterday when the hubby, the daughter (Heather) and I went to orientation at Ohio University. We listened to many speeches about what to expect, and advice was given to parents to stop hovering and let their kids go.

And here we were, 4 years later, driving down for graduation.

There is something so exciting about graduations - any kind. This is the biggest one I have ever attended. All the graduates were on the lower level with some overflow in a balcony. I started counting how many were in a row and how many rows there were, and I figured there were about 6,000 kids graduating. I thought geez, add in the speeches and watching each kid walk across the stage, and well, I thought we'd be there all day except there was another graduation scheduled for 4.5 hours after the one we attended.

It started out with people marching out holding flags with names - "College of Business" (which Heather was in), "College of Engineering" etc. And the orchestra played Pomp and Circumstance - I don't know how that became the official graduation tune, but it works. The speeches were great. Something in my head always equates "speech" with "boring." The professional speaking, an alumnus of OU, was very high energy and motivational. The student speaking was quite charming and funny. He was wondering why everyone always says "wait until you get in the real world" and wondered if the world he had been living in for the past 4 years was just a figment of his imagination. Then came the conferring of the degrees. I have never seen such speed and efficiency in my life. There was no walking across the stage. They had kids coming up 3 steps to each side of the stage, at the same time, with the announcer obviously being a speed reader. If you blinked, you missed your kid.

Then it was back to the dilapidated house where we paid way too much in rent money. We had some pieces of furniture to move out. It was about 88 degrees and very humid. The tree lawns nearby were littered with tons of furniture. I walked outside and noticed a guy in a pick-up truck, loading all the furniture into his truck. I thought now that is smart. And that is the business to be in at a college town - pick it up free in June and sell it in August. The guy saw me and asked if I needed help moving. I said YES and he helped move the furniture down the stairs and into our car.

Then it was out to lunch with Heather's good friend and her family.

Then the 3+ hour ride home. As we left beautiful Athens Ohio, my husband said "well I guess we'll never be coming back here again" and honestly, I won't miss that ride.

So now "real life" begins for Heather.

Or it will once she finds a job.

Words from Mother Theresa

2010-05-29T20:17:00.000-07:00

"Spread love everywhere you go: first of all in your own house. Give love to your children, to your wife or husband, to a next door neighbor...Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God's kindness; kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your warm greeting."

An Evening with Regina Brett

2010-05-07T18:14:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, our local paper, The Plain Dealer, featured excerpts from a book written by one of its columnists (one of my personal favorites) - Regina Brett. Based on those excerpts, I ordered the book from the library. I am not a big buyer of books. I read them once and I return them. That works for me.

So I got my email from the library that the book had arrived, and I went to get it. Even though I was in the middle of some great trashy magazines (hey, I write technical stuff all day; I'm entitled), I started on this book immediately.

Then my friend Sharon invited me to The Gathering Place to hear Regina speak. What a perfect setting. The Gathering Place in Cleveland is a place for those who have been touched by cancer. In its own words, "the mission of The Gathering Place is to support, educate and empower individuals and families touched by cancer through programs and services provided free of charge. We are proud to recognize our decade of celebrating life."

Sharon recently went for a tour and tried Reiki and plans to go back to try other programs.

We went together last night to hear Regina speak. And what a wonderful evening it was. Regina is a breast cancer survivor, so it was fitting that she would speak at this support center.

A woman in her 50s who looks like she's about 16, Regina has packed a lot into her life. And she chronicles everything in "God Never Blinks - 50 Lessons for Life's Little Detours." The fact that she refers to the events in her life as "little detours" kind of says it all.

Regina describes herself as "one of those broken souls." Raised in a Catholic home with 10 other siblings, she became an unwed mother at age 21 and raised her daughter on her own. She found the love of her life and married him at age 40. At 41, she became ill with breast cancer.

This book describes her journey.

She is a survivor. She could have easily felt sorry for herself, but she didn't. She continued to move forward through every challenge. She talks about the "chemo shower" her friends gave her, giving her hats, scarves and earrings. Every event that could have been a cause for a pity party became a celebration of sorts.

One of my favorite stories in her book was when she decided to create a gift for her husband's 40th birthday by asking 40 of his friends to write a letter to him. "Most of them ended up saying what is most difficult to say in person, what is often never said in person." She presented the collection to him on his birthday. And he said "most people don't ever get to know how people feel about them. This is the kind of stuff they say at your funeral."

Everything about this book and about Regina is a celebration; learning difficult life lessons; understanding that there will always be ups and downs; and knowing things will always get better.

I bought the book for Sharon. And I recommend it to present as a gift to anyone who is going through rough times.

Delicious Dessert - Berry Tart

2010-04-14T14:13:00.000-07:00

Berry Tart

1 C crushed ginger snap cookies (about 20 cookies)
3/4 C crushed vanilla wafers (about 25 wafers)
1/4 C finely chopped walnuts
1/3 C butter, melted
1 envelope unflavored gelatin
1 3/4 C white grape juice
1 8 oz pkg cream cheese, softened
1/4 C sugar
1 t vanilla
2.5 C fresh blueberries (I used less)
1.5 C sliced fresh strawberries (I used more)

Combine the cookie crumbs, walnuts and butter. Press onto bottom and 1.5 inch up sides of a greased 9 inch springform pan.

Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes or until set. Cool on a wire rack.

In a small saucepan, sprinkle gelatin over grape juice; let stand for 1 minute. Heat over low heat, stirring until gelatin is completely dissolved. Cover and refrigerate until partially set (about 45 minutes).

Meanwhile, in large bowl, beat the cream cheese, sugar and vanilla until smooth. Spread over crust.

Place berries in a large bowl. Gently stir in gelatin mixture (I didn't use all of it). Spoon over cream cheese layer. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours before serving. Carefully run a knife around edge of pan to loosen. Remove sides of pan

Thoughts on Welcome to Holland

2010-04-08T17:32:00.000-07:00

When we were going through the very difficult child-raising years, I came across something that forced me to view life in a new way. It was called Welcome to Holland.

http://www.creativeparents.com/Holland.html

The gist of this wonderfully simple piece is that we don't plan to have a child with disabilities, but when it happens, we need to look at that child in a new way. Some of the words have resonated with me for 10+ years:

... you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met....

I did learn a new language. Most of my free time was spent reading books and getting information online. I met wonderful, kind, giving people who I would not have met were it not for these circumstances. I learned what is important and what is not.

Our son, at age 20, is doing much better than we ever hoped or expected.

And those words continue to stick with me. And I realized they apply to much more than a child with issues. They apply to any major difficulties anyone experiences. To me, those words are a key to survival when life gets really tough.

And so when my best friend who was recently diagnosed with breast cancer asked me to go with her to a class teaching how to apply make-up for cancer patients, I thought this will be fun. As I tend to do, I connected what she is going through with the Welcome to Holland piece. As a healthy middle-aged woman, she didn't expect to be going for days of testing, chemotherapy, or spending a few days in a hospital with a low blood count.

But she will learn the language, and she will meet special people.

And I will be there too.

And we will have fun, like we always have.

Bonnie Becomes a BON

2010-03-22T16:23:00.001-07:00

I am honored to be selected as a feature blogger of Words of Wisdom (WOW). Please check it out:

http://www.ourwisdomofwords.blogspot.com/

WOW, in its own words, is a support site for blogs of substance. Mmmm. I never thought of my blog as a blog of substance and I've actually given up trying to define what it is about. Sometimes it's better not to over-analyze these things. When I feel like writing, I write. And it might be a while between posts. If I have nothing to say, there's no post.

I love the concept of this site and I look forward to finding interesting new blogs to follow. It was created at the perfect time for me, since it seems that several of the blogs I've been faithfully following have abruptly decided to end. And I'm the type of person (nosy) who needs to know what happened! So if I start to follow your life and suddenly you say "I'm done" - well, I won't be happy about it!

I will admit that I found the acronym BON (Blogger of Note) to be very amusing. You see, as a Bonnie, when Sandy emailed me with the subject line "BON" I thought she was being especially friendly to me!

I have been blogging for 1.5 years now. I am a Compliance Officer at my job (in employee benefits) and I do a lot of technical writing, and let me tell you, it doesn't get any more boring than that. I have always enjoyed writing, and found it to be quite refreshing to write whatever comes to me and have people actually read it! My husband's cousin got me into it - she is much more creative than I am, but we both agreed that once you start blogging, you seem to view everything in your life in a new way and think to yourself "oh now THAT would make a good blog post!"

I tend to find the humor in things. Even in things that aren't funny. I am known for laughing at the most inopportune times, and when that happens, I usually can't stop.

As a Cancer, I love my home. I would be quite content to never leave it. I am mom to an almost 22 year old daughter and a 20 year old son. My husband and I will celebrate our 25th anniversary this September. And I am a loving mama to a 15 year old dog and 3 cats. I can't imagine my life without these animals hanging around.

My friends are very important to me and I would describe myself as a loyal person.

Finding my favorite posts was kind of a fun adventure. I did not realize I had written so much! But here they are:

http://mamaksblog.blogspot.com/2009/10/friend-for-few-seasons.html

This blog was meaningful to me because (1) friendships are so important to me; and (2) it touched on what we went through when my son was younger. It was not a fun time.

http://mamaksblog.blogspot.com/2008/09/water-aerobics-for-people-like-me.html

This is kind of how I see life. Most things are amusing to me. And while my water aerobics days are over ( just too painful to get into a bathing suit), it was fun while it lasted.

And finally

http://mamaksblog.blogspot.com/2009/08/pepper-is-15-today.html

A tribute to my wonderful dog, Pepper. I admit that the first thing I do every morning is make sure she's still breathing. It's getting harder for her to get around. She is one of the great loves of my life.

In closing, I want to wish a happy birthday to my oldest cat, Bing Krauss, who turns 11 on 3/26/10.

In final closing, here are the kids (there will be no pix of moi, because the last good picture taken of me was taken 30 years ago):

Back Home to Reality

2010-03-15T19:14:00.001-07:00

I have been chided for not writing.

I have not felt like writing. I didn't know how to put down in writing what has been happening. But I will give it my best.

We had a wonderful trip to Florida. Spent the first night in Tampa with an old friend who goes all the way back to junior high. We hung out and went to an Irish pub where the 3 of us were a team in a trivia game. Thankfully, my husband and my friend are much better at trivia than me. I have forgotten pretty much everything I know. I'm a perfect specimen of a menopausal woman. My brain has pretty much left my body.

We spent night 2 with my old boyfriend. We were together for about 6 or 7 years, starting in our college days. We keep in touch very occasionally. When I told him we were coming down, he said he and his wife wanted to take us to dinner, and we were welcome to stay there. It was nice meeting the wife of over 25 years, and spending time with them.

The remainder of the trip we stayed at my husband's old high school friend's condo. He was happy to have us, we were happy to be there, and it was very relaxing.

I had been very nervous about leaving my 20 year old son home alone with the 15 year old dog and 3 cats. I thought I'd be a wreck the whole trip. But it was quite the opposite. It was like living in a fairy tale world for one week. Now I know why people take vacations. It is very, very nice to live with no stress, if only for a short week.

Upon arriving home, our fairy tale world ended. First we walked into the house to find clear signs of a party that had taken place. I wasn't surprised; my son admitted to me on the phone that he had one. I just wasn't prepared for the mess that awaited us.

He also never brought the garbage can in, and there was a nice letter from our city telling us we are in violation of whatever code for leaving it out. The letter even included a nice picture of our house with a picture of the garbage can on the treelawn.

Then came the call. My friend from the beginning of time - we lived 3 doors away when we were born and have therefore been friends for 52 years - was diagnosed with cancer. She had an ultrasound and the tech brought in 2 doctors, who both looked at the ultrasound and stated it was cancer. I thought well they must be wrong; who diagnoses cancer without a biopsy? Yet what kind of doctor says "it's cancer" without really knowing it's cancer?

We have always enjoyed doing dumb stuff together, and laughing at everything. Yes, she has been the subject of many of my posts. Going to see Deepak Chopra and laughing hysterically through the whole thing. Going to garage sales. Doing queer stuff that would not be fun with anyone else. I always expected that we'd be doing this together through our 80s. I could not picture growing old without her.

Then came the days of tests and the horrendous wait for results - did it spread?

That news was as good as it could be. The cancer was contained to a breast. She will start chemo soon. After 6 months of chemo comes surgery. I had never heard of that order, but apparently that's how they do it.

I guess 52 doesn't seem that young if you look at it objectively. But no matter what age we are, we will always view ourselves as being young, even though our bodies and are minds are starting to go.

The next year will be a hard one. But the news could have been a lot worse.

So, that's what's been going on. The ups and downs of life, in the span of a few weeks.

Off to Florida!

2010-02-22T08:33:00.000-08:00

My husband and I have not taken a vacation together in I don't know how many years - 21?

So we are off to Florida tomorrow.

As luck would have it, I woke up at 3 AM Sunday morning with the worst pain ever in my arm. I must have a pinched nerve. My arm is not working well at all. I took a muscle relaxer at 3 AM on Sunday and slept most of the day. I won't take anymore cause I don't want to be out of commission, having to pack and clean the house, altho I have given up on cleaning the house.

I am hoping my son will take good care of the 15 year old dog and the 3 cats.

And that the weather down there is halfway decent.

The Festive Blood Drive

2010-02-14T05:23:00.000-08:00

I'm hoping there's some relationship between Valentine's Day, the day I am writing this, and the blood drive I recently attended (they're both red?).

I used to give blood fairly regularly. Then a few years ago, I gave blood on my way home from work on a Friday. I came home and felt a little tired but nothing alarming. The next morning, I got up and went to water aerobics. I came home and showered. I felt a little off, so I decided I'd stay home for the rest of the day. I put on a black t-shirt that was stained with bleach. I used to love that t-shirt, but one day I wore it to the grocery store and I bought bleach that day. As I was putting it on the belt, I felt something damp and realized the top wasn't on the bleach bottle all the way. I didn't realize til I got home that my black shirt had a big white streak, but I then declared it to be my wear-around-the-house-only black t-shirt.

So I got out of the shower, donned the stained shirt sans bra, and started to change the bedding. My husband even joked about my shirt and I said "well it's not like anyone is gonna see me."

So I came downstairs with the sheets and felt a little worse. After putting the sheets in the washing machine, I started to walk across the kitchen floor and suddenly I realized I could no longer stand, or see. I said to my husband "I don't feel right" and he grabbed me as I collapsed. I heard him call 911 and say "my wife just passed out." I was in and out for the next few minutes but I woke up to 4 guys surrounding me, checking my heart, blood sugar, etc. And my sweet dog Pepper was in the midst of these guys, licking my face. One of the EMTs said "will someone please get the dog out of here?" And even though I was half out of it, I remembered smiling to myself.

They declared me to be stable and suggested a trip to the hospital. I declined. I know what emergency rooms are like and no thanks.

As I tried to figure out what had caused this, I figured it was giving blood and not taking in enough fluids afterward. It shook me up enough that I was a little gun-shy about giving blood for a while.

There is a party center nearby that sponsors one big blood drive a year. I had received several flyers about it and thought well maybe I should go. Free food! Live entertainment! The final clincher came when I got a call a day before the blood drive, telling me I'd get a free "goodie bag" that included a travel mug.

That did it. I needed a new travel mug. So I called and made a reservation for 4:30, planning to go on my way home from work.

The weather wasn't great but it wasn't horrendous. I arrived and many people were walking in at the same time as me. We were greeted by a handsome smiling young man, who asked if we were there to donate blood. He directed us down the hall. Fifteen feet later, another smiling young man continued to direct us. We read from the book everything we needed to know about giving blood and were given a name sticker with a number on it. Then we were directed by another smiling man to yet another room, where a man asked our number and wrote it down. Every few minutes someone would come out and call out the next number. I laughed and told the woman next to me that I felt like we were in the middle of an assembly line and she agreed but added that it was "very well organized."

When our number was called, we went to a room full of cubicles and completed the computer questionnaire. Then we were directed to the main ballroom.

Walking into the ballroom just made me smile. It was filled with cots and volunteers and a high school choir singing, loudly, with bad soloists singing loudly. It reminded me of a Chevy Chase movie.

We all donated blood and were then directed to an area with small tables with tablecloths where many people sat. I thought, as I usually do, I don't really need a pack of cookies, and then I smelled the air, and it was heavenly food. I looked over and there were tables set up with chafing dishes of food. Lots of food. Some kind of wonderful smelling pasta, salads, cookies, many drinks, etc. And I thought oh what the hell. So I helped myself and sat down.

Everyone said hello and while we all ate in silence, this blood drive continued to amuse me. An announcer told us that they had already collected 700 pints but their goal was 1,200. There were 2 hours left to go. The weather probably kept some people away. But I thought this is kind of fun! And entertaining! And festive!

And then I picked up my goodie bag - a tote bag with a travel mug, a flashlight, a deck of cards and a water bottle.

I will be back next year.

And happy valentine's day.

New Things That Are Good

2010-02-06T20:59:00.000-08:00

Not much new over here, but I have sampled or read of some new things that are good....

First, the Coffee Toffee Twisted Frosty, at Wendy's. No, I should not be eating stuff like this, but I read on AOL's write-up of the best offerings in fast foods that the twisted frosty is just FULL of mix-ins. In Wendy's words:

"We start with our irresistible, real dairy Frosty and add coffee syrup made with real-brewed coffee. Then we mix in chocolate-covered toffee candy made in old-fashioned copper kettles to create a rich, indulgent treat."

It is unbelievable. You can choose between a chocolate and vanilla frosty, and chocolate is the only way to go. I had my heart set on one today, and following the best dieting advice, I had only the frosty for lunch. Why bother with the nutritious stuff when this is all you want? Oh, is it good.

And I happened to read in today's paper about a new offering by Heinz catsup - it's a new container kind of like the container little packages of butter come in. So you can DIP the fries right in the new catsup container. And it has more catsup in it than those squeeze things that take way too much time when you're anxious to dig into those fries as soon as you get home. Hell, you can now dip them right in the car.

And for those of you who like junk food TV, it's Celebrity Rehab. I must confess to a liking for junk food TV. I make fun of my husband for watching Cops, but then I started to get into Real Housewives. It's an embarrassing habit, but I like to do some relaxing on Saturdays, and that includes taking an hour to watch that show. As I watch it, I think I can't believe I'm wasting my time watching it. But then this week we just discovered Celebrity Rehab. Heidi Fleiss is in it. My god, what happened to her lips? She must have OD'd on the lip injection and she looks terrible, but it's junk TV at its best.

Our Visit to See Deepak Chopra

2010-01-19T14:45:00.001-08:00

Years ago, a co-worker was offered several tickets to see Deepak Chopra at Severance Hall in Cleveland. He offered me two tickets and I gladly accepted. I tried to convince my husband to go, but he had no interest. I gave him the this-can-improve-your-life plea, but he continued to decline. So I invited my friend Sharon. We looked forward to an evening out with perhaps some spirituality thrown in.

We arrived at Severance Hall and showed our tickets. The usher told us to continue walking up the stairs. We got to the next level, and the usher on that floor told us the same thing. We arrived at the next floor huffing and puffing and I told the usher there that he better not tell us to continue walking up another flight of stairs. He looked sheepish. I said so we have to continue walking, huh? And he smiled and said yes.

As it turned out, our seats were in the highest part of the concert hall, which is very high. OK, we had expected better but we still looked forward to this evening. Til we sat down. These seats had the smallest amount of leg room I have ever experienced. I am someone who needs to stretch her legs out frequently, and this wasn't working real well. We finally arranged it so that Sharon, who had an end seat, moved her legs to the aisle so that I could use her leg space for my legs.

Deepak started talking and told a few amusing stories that had the audience laughing. Then he got into the serious stuff. My mind started to wander. My mind has always wandered when I'm forced to sit and listen to someone, but I somehow thought this subject matter would engage me. Wrong. Several times I tried to pull my brain back in, but by that point, I had no idea what the man was talking about. That was when Sharon turned to me and whispered "I have no idea what he's talking about." I should add here that Sharon and I have a bad habit of laughing, uncontrollably, at the most inopportune times. Many years ago, we had gone to see Terms of Endearment, and the entire theater was in tears, and it struck us how funny it was that all these people had paid money to go and cry, and we became hysterical. In the midst of all the sniffling, you could hear our snorts as we told each other to shut up, because if one wouldn't stop, the other wouldn't stop.

So there we sat, in our tiny seats, laughing hysterically, as Deepak gave his words of wisdom to his large audience. We could not stop.

Intermission could not come soon enough. As soon as it came, we looked at each other and didn't have to say a word. We both stood up, grabbed our purses and walked out.

Down the many steps.

When we finally got to the bottom, there was a table set up, with Deepak. No people were there yet. He was there at intermission to sign books. And we had to walk right past him to get to our cars.

That got us started all over again.

Easy Chicken'N Broccoli Pie

2010-01-13T19:10:00.000-08:00

A good easy dinner (Courtesy of Betty Crocker)

1 1/2 cups Green Giant® frozen broccoli florets, thawed, drained (from 12-oz bag)
1 cup shredded reduced-fat sharp Cheddar cheese (4 oz) (I didn't use the low fat version)
1 cup cut-up cooked chicken breast
1 medium onion, chopped (1/2 cup)
1/2 cup Bisquick Heart Smart® mix
1 cup fat-free (skim) milk
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon pepper
2 eggs or 1/3 cup fat-free egg product
1. Heat oven to 400°F. Spray 9-inch glass pie plate with cooking spray. Layer broccoli, 1/2 cup of the cheese, the chicken and onion in pie plate.
2. In medium bowl, stir Bisquick mix, milk, salt, peper and eggs with wire whisk or fork until blended. Pour into pie plate.
3. Bake 20 to 25 minutes or until knife inserted in center comes out clean. Sprinkle with remaining 1/2 cup cheese. Bake 3 to 4 minutes longer or just until cheese is melted. Cool 5 minutes.

Better to Age Fast and Be Happy

2010-01-08T20:34:00.000-08:00

I made the mistake last month of logging onto realage.com (for some reason, I can't get the link to work today). I completed a long questionnaire. Based on your responses, you are given your "real" age. Well my true real age is 52.5 but now I have been assessed as having a real age of 63.7.

So, realage.com has decided to send me emails to give me suggestions on reducing the age they have assigned to me.

One suggestion had the headline "Turn Off Hunger With This Drink."

I'm open to anything, so I clicked on that.

YUCK! This drink is made with fat-free cottage cheese, 1% low-fat buttermilk, half an avocado and agave nectar.

I think I'll stick to my junk food and be old and happy.

Stuff People Have Said that Amuses Me

2009-12-31T08:39:00.001-08:00

Last night as our family was driving together in one car, we were forced to talk to each other. It is rare that the 4 of us have a conversation together.

I was telling them how we got all this chocolate at work, sent to us by vendors. Well there was a box of cookies and a box of cherry cordials that was still unopened a week after Christmas. So yesterday I announced to my floor that my mother volunteers at the food bank, and if no one objected, I was going to take these unopened sweets to her so she could donate them the next time she worked. One person said I should have done that a week ago with all the chocolates we got. So I put them in my bag and brought them home. Well, 20 year old son Joe, who tends to see things in black and white, was dumbfounded: "you don't bring cherry cordials to a food bank." "Why not?" I asked. "Because those people don't eat cherry cordials. They need canned goods." I explained that it would be nice for one of "those people" to take home something sweet; something they wouldn't ordinarily buy, and an argument (aka a lively discussion) ensued til we finally dropped the topic because one never wins an argument with Joe. I will bring the stuff over to my mother in the next few days.

And speaking of my mother, I was thinking about one of my favorite remarks she has ever made. We went shopping one night at a strip center with a big parking lot. It was raining out. She started to pull into a space, and I told her it was a handicapped space; she hadn't seen the sign. And she said "oh, 'they' won't be out tonight." Now my mother is not a mean person; she has spent most of her life volunteering for multiple causes. That remark just stuck with me and I told a friend about it and whenever we can't find a parking space somewhere, she'll say we should just park in a handicapped spot cause they won't be out today.

Then, although it doesn't come under the category "stuff people have said that amuses me" - I was thinking about a dinner we had at my parents a few weeks ago. My mother went to bring out a box of chocolates she had bought for the occasion, and found that someone had opened them. Given that the only person who lives with my mother is my father, she was very angry at him. Half the chocolates were gone. My father said he didn't know she bought them for this occasion. Never mind that my mother is allergic to chocolate. We all laughed but my mother was not amused. Later my sister told me that whenever my mother goes out, my 86 year old father, who lost his vision a few years ago, goes searching through the house for candy. I love seeing the child in all of us.

Angel Clare

2009-12-28T16:44:00.000-08:00

A few months ago, an old college friend, Richard, sent me a downloaded song called Woyaya.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=viwERI295zU

I cannot figure out how to download the video (from youtube) or add the music to this video. If anyone on blogger knows how to do these things, please enlighten me! But if you have the time and inclination, click on the link. I think this song is so beautiful.

Anyway, I opened his email and this beautiful music started to play. Music we listened to in college. Richard and Larry shared a room in our co-ed dorm, and all these memories burst forth of a group of us hanging out in their room. There was a rocking chair in that room, and I can't remember if it was Larry or Richard who sat in that chair, but one of them did, and several of us would sit there with the lights out, as we listened to the music of the day.

This was at York University, in the outskirts of Toronto. Our favorite outing was to take the bus and subway to downtown Toronto, where we would travel down Yonge Street and buy our favorite thing - albums. It was so exciting to come back to the dorm with a new album.

When I think of my years at York U, my memories are never of classes. Other than the one on body language where they hired a nude model for the class to discuss his body language. That was my only memorable class. All those thousands of dollars spent, and my main memory was gathering in Richard and Larry's room to listen to music.

When I opened Richard's email and heard the music, it just brought me back to 1975, a very carefree time. And I asked Richard the name of the album that this song was on, and he told me it was on Angel Clare. So I added it to my "wish list" for Christmas this year, and I was so happy when I opened it up.

Last night was the first big snowfall here in Cleveland. I HATE driving in the snow. I woke up this morning and thought well I better head out early to avoid the traffic, cause I drive very slowly in the snow. So I got in my car, popped that new CD in, and I'm telling you, the next 40 minutes (usually 30 but not when you're driving as slow as me) was pure enjoyment. Such beautiful songs on this album.

While I wanted the CD for Woyaya, I discovered another beautiful song called Old Man, written by Randy Newman:

(Randy Newman)
Everyone has gone away,
Can you hear me? Can you hear me?
No one cared enough to stay,
Can you hear me?

You must remember me, Old Man,
I know that you can if you try,
So just open up your eyes, Old Man,
Look who's come to say, "Good-bye."

The sun has left the sky, Old Man,
The birds have flown away,
And no one came to cry Old Man,
Good-bye, Old Man, good-bye.

You want to stay, I know you do,
But it ain't no use to try,
'Cause I'll be here, and I'm just like you.
Good-bye, Old Man, good-bye.

Won't be no God to comfort you,
You taught me not to believe that lie.
You don't need anybody,
Nobody needs you,
Don't cry, Old Man, don't cry.
Everybody dies.

Happy Holidays

2009-12-25T06:24:00.001-08:00

(written by The Husband)

’Twas two weeks before Christmas, when all through Krauss House
  Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
  The stockings weren’t hung by the chimney with care,  
Too much junk prevented us reaching up there.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,  
Nursing the hangovers pounding their heads.  
Heather had “tried” to find a temp job,
But settled instead for becoming a blob.
Joe had four finals in his college classes;
We hope he wakes up so there’s a chance that he passes.
Bonnie had long before risen from bed,
  And was hard at work to earn us some bread.
She took a quick break to tell David he’d better
Get off his ass and write the newsletter.
He sprang from the bed to answer her call,
Stubbing his toe, cursing, “Damn it all!”
He saw it was she on the caller ID;
She’d just have to wait, ’cause he had to pee.
“I’ll call her right back, as soon as I can,”
He thought to himself as he went to the can.
“I know why she’s calling,” he thought with regret;
“It’s the damn newsletter I haven’t done yet.”
He sat at the keyboard with his writer’s block;
Staring in space, watching the clock.
“What can I write?” he thought, with great desperation;
“I need some help, I need inspiration.”
Suddenly to his wondering brain did appear,
An idea of how to recap our year.
“I’ve got it,” he yelled, “I’ll poeticize!
And the best way to do so is to plagiarize!”
So David was able to call back his spouse,
And tell her he’d written about our fine house.
The best thing of all, as it’s now just past noon;
Is that finally he has run out of room.
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night.”

A Great Office Holiday Party

2009-12-22T19:01:00.001-08:00

Every year we do something different for our office holiday parties. In the years when we were doing really well, it was a night out with a guest - a fancy dinner somewhere. In the leaner years, it was a potluck lunch at work (employees only).

The last few years, the owner of our company has become very creative in the planning of our parties. A few years ago, we all drove out to Crocker Park, a "lifestyle center" on the west side of town. We were all given $75 and told to spend it on ourselves. We were not to purchase gifts for others. We had an hour or so to buy what we wanted, and then we met for lunch at The Cheesecake Factory, where we enjoyed a great meal and showed off our gifts (or our creativity; one employee used some of the money to get her hair cut). It was honestly the first time I have ever paid full retail price for items for myself. I felt a bit guilty, but it was just fun to spend. Oh, and if we didn't spend the money, we had to turn it in at the end, and it would be given to charity. Of course there's one in every bunch, and we do have the employee who didn't need anything and donated all his money to charity. Made the rest of us feel like a bunch of heels, but we still had a great time.

This year the party was to be a surprise. We only knew that it would be held at Legacy Village, the east side "lifestyle center." I was VERY happy about this destination because I live 5 minutes away.

So we all met at The Viking Store, which is a kitchen store and cooking school. The party's purpose, as the owner told us, was to work on "team-building." I admit that is an area that needs work at our company. There are only 20 some people working there, and we definitely cause each other a lot of grief.

So we divided into 2 groups, in 2 separate rooms, and within our rooms, we were given a team to work with. Teams had 3-4 people. We had a fun and informative instructor, and with a lot of laughing and talking, we set out to make a cocktail party menu: tiny blue cheese biscuits with seared beef tenderloin; grilled chicken skewers with honey pomegranate glaze; steamed halibut with thai red curry sauce; roasted vegetable and boursin canapes, and for bananas foster for dessert.

Sound good? It was good. Along with the fun of cooking with others (and it was extra fun cause a lot of the ingredients were pre-measured and these ladies came and picked up all our dirty dishes and whisked them away - I loved that!).

While we waited for the food to cook, we were given glasses of wine and told to wander through the store. The one thing I loved was the juicer gadgets that made it so easy to squeeze fresh fruits. At $17, I decided it was beyond my budget, but I will post this here and hope some family member might read this - my birthday is in July!

It really was a fun way to spend an afternoon.

A Day At The Post Office in December

2009-12-12T10:05:00.000-08:00

One thing that I truly dread every December is going to the post office to send a package to my friend in Canada. For other packages, I have a nice lady at work who will weigh the package and even figure out if I'd be better off sending it via UPS or USPS. But since the package to my Canadian friend involves completing a customs form, I must go to the post office to send it off.

So I woke up this morning and declared that this would be the day I would deal with that task (I always say that coloring my hair is my least favorite activity; I would have to say that this task is my second least favorite activity).

I arrived and there was a line of about 10 people. And one postal employee. I proceeded to fill out my customs form. That took a few minutes, and then I looked up to check out the line. Why is it that there is always one customer doing some kind of transaction that takes forever? And why is she always there when I'm there?

Well, she was there. And people are shifting their feet, watching and praying that another employee would magically appear. Well there were several other employees, but none of them seemed inclined to wait on anyone. Maybe it wasn't their job. But I think we are all spoiled by standing in a long line and having the lone employee make a page: "help needed at the front." This was clearly not gonna happen.

So the older lady who was 2 in front of me turned around, looking for someone to meet her eyes. That someone was me. She said "this is ridiculous. One employee 2 weeks before Christmas" And I said "I know. It's like this every year." She said "well this is just inexcusable."

I glanced at the guy between us and could tell he was annoyed at the complaints. He said nothing.

A few minutes later, the old lady (OL) turned around again to complain about the service. This time the annoyed man (I'll call him CM for cynical man) decided to join in.

OL: I have things to do! It's taking 10 minutes a person. It will be an hour before they get to me.

CM: In case you haven't heard, there's a deficit. And the post office can't afford to hire more people. So I consider it my patriotic duty to stand in line.

OL: How is it patriotic to stand in line?

CM: It's either that, or we pay higher costs.

OL: I'd rather pay higher costs.

CM: I wouldn't.

OL, looking at me: Well how do you feel about it? You get a vote.

Me: My salary certainly isn't going up every year.

CM, smirking: Yeah.

OL: Well my time is worth something. I would gladly pay more to not stand here for an hour.

CM: Ok, well offer the first guy in line a $20 and see if he'll let you go ahead of him.

OL, eyes rolling: You know, there should be a way that we can weigh our own letters and not have to wait for this.

CM: There is a way. There's a scale over there.

OL: Well I don't know if it's first class or what.

CM: It has instructions on it.

OL: I'm not very technical.

I actually wasn't minding the wait, since I found this all quite amusing. In the meantime, they did add a second employee. As I watched the two employees working, I saw that they were very calm. I would have been quite stressed, seeing that line, but they handled it very well and were very polite to all the customers.

The line started moving quickly at that point.

So I'm done with my second least favorite activity.

Til next year.

2 Thanksgivings

2009-11-27T18:01:00.000-08:00

Just finished Thanksgiving Dinner #2. Had planned on bringing my camera to both, but forgot both times. So, my friend Sharon took some pix from Thanksgiving Dinner #1. Picture #1 is the son, the husband, me and the daughter. Picture #2 is Sharon's daughter Linda, with her cheese and turkey ball. It actually has turkey in it. A very festive addition to the party. And picture #3 is a table of appetizers. I made a tuscany dip and holiday pecans.

I ate way too much last night. I have reached a point in my life where I can no longer eat heavy food and feel fine afterward. The company was wonderful, the table was beautiful and the food delicious.

This morning I left the house at 6:20 to pick up Sharon for our annual tradition - Black Friday shopping. We've been doing this long before they called it Black Friday. So we went to stores that weren't offering early bird specials - Gabriel Brothers, Big Lots and Ollies. All the stores were relatively quiet and well staffed. There were no long lines. We did not make much of a dent in our shopping, but I think we agreed the tradition was more important than anything. After shopping, we met Kenny for breakfast. Then we went home and went to bed.

Tonight was dinner #2, at my parents' house. I was very good. I did not go overboard.

I am looking forward to 2 more days of freedom.

On that note, the pecans were pretty good, and VERY easy, so here is the recipe:

Paula Deen's Southern Holiday Pecans

2 C pecan halves
3 T unsalted butter
1/3 t cayenne pepper (or 1/2 t hot pepper sauce)
1 t ground cinnamon
1 T sugar
1 t salt

Heat oven to 325 and place rack in center. Line a rimmed baking sheet with
foil and lightly coat with cooking spray. Place nuts in a large bowl.
In small saucepan, melt butter. Add cayenne and cinnamon and stir.
Pour over nuts and toss until coated. Toss in sugar and salt.
On prepared baking sheet, spread out pecans in a single layer and bake,
stirring once, for 14 minutes. Transfer baking sheet to a wire rack and cool.

Thanksgiving Morning

2009-11-26T07:08:00.000-08:00

I started to lose interest in work at about 1:00 yesterday. I had a 4 day weekend to look forward to! When someone brought their kids to work at about 3:00, and they started running through the office and yelling, I decided I'm outta here. Is it just me, or is it only the parents who think their kids are cute when they do that?

This morning it was just glorious to not have the alarm go off at 5:50. Pepper the dog did start to run over to my side of the bed when she heard me move, so I came down to feed her and let her out at 8:00. At 15, Pepper does not have the eyesight she used to. When I let her out, there was a squirrel in the front yard, sitting on its haunches eating a nut. I thought oh no, squirrel, be careful, because in her younger days, Pepper would madly chase after the squirrels. But today Pepper just quietly went out and did her business and came back in, and I thought well Mr. Squirrel, you have something to be thankful for today.

After letting Pepper out, I happily went back to bed. Three cats awaited me - 2 in bed with my husband and one on the loveseat. I am so thankful for these little creatures who are truly the most amazing things ever created.

Pepper followed me up and proceeded to roll all over the floor. I have heard that rolling like this is the sign of a happy dog, and Pepper has always been a happy dog.

I got back into bed and started to read a book I've been enjoying. Heaven! A weekday morning to be totally lazy and do whatever I want.

The husband came down and made his Caribou coffee. Something else to be thankful for, cause I always make the cheap and easy stuff during the week. I proceeded to make cinnamon streusel muffins from a mix and put them in the oven. The daughter is home from college and has a friend sleeping over and they can wake up to the smell of fresh baked goodness. That is, if they wake up soon at all (last night involved a trip to a local bar where they enlisted the son to be their designated driver). I don't think I like that my daughter is 21.

The husband just commented that my mother, Lenore, has not called to ask if we're watching the parade. Yet. She has done this in 23 of our 24 years of marriage. I'm sure the call will come soon.

We are having a double Thanksgiving this year. We usually trade off every year - odd years at my sister-in-law's house and even years at my parents' house. I am ashamed to admit that at age 52, I have never cooked a turkey. I never needed to! But anyway, this year (not being my parents' year), my mother decided we should have Thanksgiving at her house tomorrow. She would not follow the normal rules this year.

All I know is that while I used to love to have people over, it is just too much work! So I am thankful I just have to make appetizers for tonight (I'm trying Paula Deen's recipe for spiced pecans and a hot tuscany veggie dip that has all kinds of good stuff in it) and a salad for tomorrow and that's the extent of my obligations.

There is much to be thankful for. I hope everyone out there in blogland enjoys the holiday.

Fragments of my Life

2009-11-14T19:06:00.000-08:00

You know how when you go to the grocery store and you are buying gum or a candy bar, the bagger always asks if you want to take it with you? Well this is embarrassing to discuss, but last night the husband and I went to the grocery store. Among other things, I was buying a bottle of stool softeners. So we're waiting for the bagger to bag up the groceries and he holds up my bottle of stool softener and asks if I'd like to take it with me. I said no. And I looked at the husband, thinking he hadn't heard this, and he had this big grin on his face, and when our eyes met, we just cracked up. What was this guy thinking?
-----------------------------------

Went to dinner tonight at this local Italian place. This is the same place we went to a year ago where the waitress had a tantrum and told the owner that "they" (us) "could get their own food out of the kitchen." So we were a little nervous about what we would find, but tonight we found the opposite - a young smiling waitress who told us several times that she was just a happy person. No matter what we asked, her response was "no problem." Once we realized this, we would smile at each other when she responded with "no problem." Then the husband said "I think I'll ask 'how bout a blow job?'" and see if she still responds "no problem." Needless to say, he didn't.
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That's all that's new over here. The son turns 20 in a few days - we will have a party tomorrow and I am going to make a giant snowball -http://www.kraftfoods.com/kf/recipes/snowball-cake-114038.aspx. He won't let me use coconut so I'll try chocolate chips.

Humor at Ho Wah

2009-11-06T15:24:00.000-08:00

Let me start by saying I would be perfectly happy eating Chinese food 7 days a week. But my husband doesn't feel the same, so we don't get it too often.

Tonight the husband came in, all stuffed up. He said he didn't feel well.

Me: I know what would help you!
Husband: What?
Me: Hot and sour soup! I'll order and pick it up.
Husband: You want to order chinese?
Me: Yes! And you can get pork egg fu yung, which is kind of Atkins-y.
Husband: OK.

I called my son to see what he wanted, and then I called Ho Wah, our favorite local chinese restaurant.

Chinese lady: Ho Wah
Me: I'd like to order something.
Chinese lady: OK
Me: Sweet and sour chicken, hot and sour soup, and pork subgum chow mein.....Oh, WAIT. I don't mean pork subgum chow mein. I mean the dish that's made with eggs.
Chinese lady: (silence)
Me, who can't remember shit: What's it called - the dish made with eggs?
Chinese lady: (silence)

I was scanning the menu as fast as I could, and then I found it.
Me: pork egg fu yung.
Chinese lady: 15 minute.
Me: OK.

I arrived at Ho Wah. While I waited for my food, I was watching the chinese owner. Everyone who works there is oriental, but tonight there was a young white guy.

Chinese owner, looking at paperwork, mumbling something about Christmas, looks at the white guy.

Chinese owner: You work Christmas.
White guy: Uh, I don't think I can do that.
Chinese owner: You work Christmas. Everyone work Christmas.
White guy: (frown)
Another Chinese employee: This is a Chinese restaurant!!!

I told a friend about this exchange and she said it sounded like I was in a Seinfeld episode, and I said I FELT like I was in a Seinfeld episode! It was like the most important thing about working in a chinese restaurant was being able to work on Christmas.

Veal Scallopini

2009-10-31T18:12:00.001-07:00

This is the first time I made this dish, and I just loved it.

Veal Scallopini

3 T olive or veg oil
1/2 C all-purpose flour
1 lb thin veal scallopini (less than 1/4 inch thick)
1/2 stick butter, cut into pieces
1/2 fresh lemon
1.5 T drained small capers

Heat a 12 inch heavy skillet (not non-stick) over high heat until hot, then add oil and heat until hot.
Meanwhile, stir together flour, 1 t salt and 1/2 t pepper, then dredge veal in flour, knocking off excess.
Cook veal in 2 batches, turning once, until browned and just cooked through, 2-2 1/2 minutes per batch.
Transfer to a plate.
Discard oil from skillet, then add butter,and cook over medium heat, shaking skillet frequently, until browned and fragrant, 1 - 2 minutes. Stir in juice from 1/2 lemon, capers and 1/4 t each of salt and pepper. Return veal to skillet just to heat through.

My Disgusting Lunch

2009-10-28T17:13:00.000-07:00

My husband is on the Atkins diet. We started on it together, but, as always happens, I could no longer stand the sight of meat. Plus, I've been under the weather, and when I am under the weather, I crave pasta and can't even think about meat.

So at dinnertime, he does his thing and I do mine. I will prepare something for myself, and he will prepare something for himself.

Last night I came home, feeling quite exhausted, and found a family size Stouffers escalloped chicken and noodles casserole in the freezer. Mmm, that sounded like the perfect dinner for me. And since I've not made it to the grocery store in a while and have no bread in the house, I thought I could bring the leftovers to work for lunch.

So I put the frozen dinner in the oven as soon as I got home. It has to cook for 66 minutes. When it was done, I just helped myself to a bowl full and sat down to watch TV. The husband came in and asked "what can I eat?" I said "well there's lots of stuff in the freezer." He said "but none of it appeals to me." He looked in the fridge. He looked in the freezer. He was like a forlorn child. I left the kitchen thinking he'll figure something out.

Meanwhile, I was not happy with the temperature of the casserole. After cooking for 66 minutes, it was barely lukewarm. I started to eat it that way, and finally, realizing it had no appeal, I stuck it in the microwave. I was amused when I went back into the kitchen and saw that my husband had helped himself to the casserole. I smiled to myself thinking he's had enough of Atkins too.

Later on, I spooned a helping into a tupperware container to take for my lunch.

Work was not good today. For some reason, I could not get into my word files that I needed to work on. No one in IT could figure it out. I kept getting messages about not having access. I had counted on getting certain things done. And then, another co-worker came to work very sick. I stopped by her office and told her she looked terrible. She was coughing non-stop. She told me she had a temp of 101.9. I told her she needed to go home. Meanwhile, many other co-workers were very annoyed she was there. Just this week, our company put anti-bacterial soap and Clorox wipes all over the place. The containers promised to keep flu germs away. As I was filling my coffee cup, reading one of the containers, I laughed to myself, thinking they can put all these germ killers on every visible surface, but if you have a sick person who comes to work, these germ killers will do nothing.

Finally it was lunchtime. I walked down a floor and heated my chicken and noodles. I carried my tupperware container back to my office to eat at my desk. I took a bite, and damn, if it wasn't a deja vu experience - it was barely lukewarm. So I walked back down to the kitchen, reheated it, and with the lid half on, started to walk back to my office. Then - I have no idea how it happened, but the tupperware container flew out of my hand and my chicken and noodles were scattered all over the carpeting. "SHIT!" came out of my lips before I could think about it. My helpful co-worker Donna was in the kitchen and heard something fall, followed by my rather loud "shit." She said to someone else in the lunchroom "that didn't sound good." She came out to investigate and saw my huge mess. And I mean huge. It looked like someone had gotten sick all over the office carpeting.

So I grabbed a trash can and started to pick up the pieces. But chicken and noodles comes with a lot of sauce, and sauce is hard to pick up. Donna and another co-worker helped, and I grabbed some of those Clorox wipes to try to get the cream sauce off the carpet. Donna, being much more fastidious than me, decided we should leave paper towels over the spot to help blot it up. As other co-workers came in from lunch, they wondered "who got sick." The news that no one got sick but klutzy Bonnie spilled her food was soon through the office.

Meanwhile, I carried my tupperware container back to my office. It had one spoonful of chicken and noodles left. I ate it. It was not appealing. It was lukewarm again.

I don't think I'll ever be able to eat Stouffers chicken and noodles again.

There's Nothing Official Wrong With Me!

2009-10-26T14:17:00.000-07:00

It has always been a fear of mine, when I schedule a doctor's visit, that there will be nothing wrong with me and he will wonder why I am wasting his time.

So that fear was realized today.

When we were at a wedding in MI, 16 days ago, I was hit with some kind of bug. I felt miserable. Lots of coughing. No fever. Sore throat. My chest hurt. Every time I tried to talk, I would go into spasms of coughing. My voice was barely hanging in there. A few days after the onset of my yuckiness, my son had a 104 temp. I had had my flu shot exactly 15 days before. He was diagnosed with the flu, Type A.

He got better. My thing kept hanging on. I read all the symptoms of the regular flu and H1n1 about a hundred times. I googled pneumonia. I googled bronchitis. People who work with me were tired of hearing me hack away. My family was getting tired of listening to me. Everyone said "when are you gonna call a dr?"

So today I got to work and received emails from some friends: "Call a dr. This has been hanging around too long." I thought well it's Monday. The dr's office will be filled with people much sicker than me. I am able to function. Finally, I just called the dr's office and waited on hold, listening to a recorded message for 15 minutes while I hacked away. I must have done a good job at describing my symptoms, because amazingly, I got an appointment for today.

I got there and described my symptoms. He sent me for a chest x-ray. He gave me a breathing test. The verdict: "all normal." I thought oh hell. I was hoping for some official diagnosis. I felt like an idiot for wasting everyone's time. He prescribed an inhaler for me and told me to call if I'm not better in 2 weeks.

Not better? But there's nothing wrong with me! I came home and went to bed.

For someone who has nothing wrong, I certainly feel like crap.

I Love Trader Joe's

2009-10-22T17:53:00.000-07:00

Cousin Deet http://themarmeladegypsy.blogspot.com/, who got me into this blogging adventure, just emailed me to ask how come I haven't put anything new on the blog. I know! I told her. Nothing seems blogworthy, and the longer I go like this, the worse it gets.

So, for lack of a better topic, I will write a post about Trader Joe's. I LOVE Trader Joe's. When they first appeared in my part of town about 7 years ago, my husband and I took a friend over to that shopping center. It was 9:30 and Trader Joe's was closed, but the lights were on, and there were people working inside. It was a nice summer night. So we were looking in the window, and a manager type of guy came out and asked us if we had been in the store yet. We said yes, but our friend, who lived on the other side of town, hadn't. So the guy who worked there said "well come on in and look around." And we just walked in and looked around. It's always difficult to shop at TJ's and not buy anything (the registers were closed) but it was a fun little adventure.

Every time I go in that store, it seems that the employees just love working there. When I'm checking out, they will comment on something I bought and tell me how they just tried it and loved it and served it at a party. The check-out lines are never dull. There is always conversation going on. I have decided if there ever comes a time when I don't have to work to live, I will go work at TJ's and just have a gay old time and happily talk to people all day long.

No one is in a bad mood at TJ's. Everyone is happy. Well, sometimes my husband gets grumpy, as he tends to do, when the aisles are packed and you can't move. But I've discovered the simple solution of leaving the cart at the end of an aisle and I just go breezing through the store free as a bird.

Tonight I wanted to view the hummus and salsas in a refrigerated case. There was a lady standing in front of the case, and she was kind of in my way, but I walked around her and grabbed what I needed. She realized she was in my way and apologized, laughing to herself as she told me "I have no idea what I'm doing here. I don't even know what I'm looking for. But I'm just standing here stuck looking." And I knew exactly what she meant.

When Cousin Deet comes in town, from Lansing, she stocks up on all her TJ stuff. It is quite amusing watching her fill her cart to overflowing, and she says that she really didn't mean to buy that much.

All of the food is fascinating to me, from the chocolate covered everythings (the dark chocolate caramels and the toffee are the best) to the frozen foods you can't buy anywhere else, to the special soaps, to the best priced olive oil in town...it's always an adventure.

A Friend for a Few Seasons

2009-10-03T16:42:00.000-07:00

Years ago, when my son was diagnosed with Tourette Syndrome and a bunch of other stuff, I spent a lot of time on the computer, just trying to get information. We went through some very bad years with some very challenging behaviors. I've seen bloggers blogging about issues such as what we went through, and I am very glad to see all the support they get from their followers. When we were going through this stuff, it seemed there wasn't much support out there.

One night I was checking out a site on TS and I started to read the comments. Most comments I couldn't relate to, but one comment just struck a nerve with me. And I sent an email to this stranger ("G"), whose son seemed to have the exact same issues as mine.

I could be completely open with my new friend, because he was going through the exact same stuff. We would tell each other about new medications that were coming out, what our doctors had said, if flax oil was effective (it was, but my son wouldn't take it) and how we responded to some of the difficult behaviors. We worked together to find a new way to live. Both of us were living lives that we never would have envisioned living.

At the time, G was an investment banker in L.A. He and his wife had adopted their son from a woman in Cleveland, where I live. That somehow seemed to link us more. And so began an email correspondence that lasted for several years.

There is an email that comes along every few years about friends - it's about how a friend can be there for a reason, a season, or forever. The gist of it is that sometimes someone comes along to fulfill a need, and that friendship doesn't last forever, but it is there for you in your time of need.

G and I emailed on a daily basis. I printed all the emails and kept them in notebooks. I have 3 full notebooks of our correspondence. After a few years of corresponding, G got divorced from his wife, came out as a gay man, and moved to AZ to open a bed and breakfast. He invited my family to come and stay, as his guest. We accepted.

Shortly before our trip, I went for my annual GYN exam. The dr was making conversation and asked if I had any plans for spring break. I said yes, as a matter of fact, our family is going to stay at this B&B of a man I met online! I told him the story and he kept saying "that is SO cool!"

So our family flew out west for a vacation. We flew to Las Vegas, spent a few days there, and then drove down to AZ. My husband had cousins living in the same city (one lived right across the street from the B&B, which was bizarre, and we introduced him to G). We spent about 5 days getting to know G. I have to smile when I think of that trip, because I think about how all these couples meet online and then decide to get married, and people think "but they haven't even met!" but when you email someone every day, you do get to know them - often better than you know people you spend 8 hours a day with as co-workers.

G's son became more difficult. His wife had sole custody in L.A. and he didn't see his son much. When he did, he had a very difficult time and soon it became easier for him not to see his son at all. Our emails became less frequent, as the focus of what had brought us together had changed. It seemed to me that G changed a lot too. Gradually, I realized that this man who had tried to hard to help his son had basically given up, and wanted to live his life without him.

I still have my notebooks. Once a year or so, I think oh, I should just throw the damn things out. And then I pick them up and start reading. The reason I had printed them and organized them so carefully was that a friend suggested I do this as my own journal of what we lived through. And that is what those notebooks have become for me. When I start to read them, I am really horrified by what we went through. We tend to put very unpleasant things out of our mind, and while I have vague memories of what we went through, those notebooks are the black and white proof of what happened. And it wasn't pretty.

G and I haven't corresponded in about a year. I sometimes get on his B&B website to see if he's still the owner, because he used to talk about doing other things. With no strings attached to anything, he is free to take off for anywhere and start a new life.

I don't think this was a life-long friendship. But it is a friendship that was there for several seasons, and more importantly, it was there for a reason, and I am grateful that we had what we had.

A School Shooting

2009-09-17T13:43:00.000-07:00

On October 12, 2007, a co-worker looked outside the office building where I work and noticed many police cars outside the building. Right across the street from our building is a Cleveland school, called Success Tech. We turned on the TV, and TV crews were filming kids standing outside, some in tears, as well as stretchers with the wounded being carried out.

We found out that a 14 year old freshman walked into the school, shot two adults and two students. After police entered the school, he killed himself.

It seems commonplace now to be reading about a student somewhere who is entering a school or college campus and shooting people randomly. It is still shocking news, but seemingly less than it should be.

At Success Tech, after the shooting, they put in metal detectors for anyone entering the school.

Every morning I pull into the parking lot at work and see the kids lining up to get into the school, to go through the metal detector. They are all very orderly. Today I was watching them, thinking this has become their norm, to have to walk through a metal detector to get into their school.

And I thought how completely sad this whole thing is.

$20 for a pair of Tweezers?!!!!

2009-09-13T10:57:00.000-07:00

I am by nature a thrifty person. I was raised that way and I have stayed that way.

I have washed aluminum foil to re-use it. I not only cut coupons religiously, but I exchange the ones I don't want with my mother and my friend Sharon. And if a coupon is really valuable to me, I'll email my work colleagues, giving me like 7 total coupons for the same item. I let the weekly grocery store sales dictate what I'll be buying for the week.

So what I paid for a pair of tweezer this week astounds me as well as all who know me.

Daughter Heather was home for the summer. We call her "princess" because she likes the finer things in life, and she really likes having her parents pay for the finer things in life. We are quite happy she is a senior in college so she can start buying her own finer things in life.

While Heather was home, she complained that her tweezers no longer worked, so I told her to get herself a new pair. I'm thinking $5. Well she came home with the most amazing tweezers I have ever used. Tweezerman tweezers. I always thought tweezers were basically the same, but I learned I have been wrong. I am used to trying 5 times to get that one hair. With Tweezerman, you get it on the first try, always. I asked "how much did you spend on these tweezers?" and she said '$15."

I decided my time is worth something, and it is time-consuming to keep missing the same hair. So I went to CVS and found about 10 different types of Tweezerman. The one that most closely resembled what Heather brought home was $20. Yeah, $20! And I bought it! And it has made a major difference in my life!

I went to work the next day and mentioned I had spent $20 on a pair of tweezers. Those who know me and those who are thrifty like me were appalled.

Secretly, I think they might buy these one of these days.

ANNOUNCING THE WINNERS!

2009-09-12T06:20:00.000-07:00

And the winners are............

Number one winner: Trish

Number two winner: Anno

This was done thru the random number website that Delaney provided to me (thank you, Delaney!)

As established in the rules, Trish chooses first, then Anno gets the second book.

Thank you to all who entered!

And so today starts year 2 of blogging!

MY FIRST BLOGAVERSARY GIVE-AWAY!

2009-08-30T12:31:00.000-07:00

My FIRST blogaversary is 9/12.

In celebration, I am having a give-away. I am giving away two books. First winner gets to choose; second winner gets the other one.

To enter, just make a comment telling me you are interested in joining the contest. And make sure I have a way of contacting you.

I will draw names (if anyone knows how to do the random pick that everyone talks about, let me know; otherwise I will literally draw names from a hat) on my actual blogaversary - 9/12.

A Fun Day at BJ's

2009-08-29T14:54:00.000-07:00

Sharon and I like to do "queer" stuff. We like the simple joys of life.

So when I read that our local BJs was having a FREE LUNCH today, I called Sharon, the only person I know who would want to join me for this. The ad said that local restaurants would be giving away samples of food.

So off we went, at 12:30 today. This local BJs is usually empty (which I love) and we figured there would be somewhat of a crowd with this special promotion. We were right. We walked in and there was music playing. A DJ was directing line-dancing. Several employees and a few non-employees were participating. I wish I had the guts to join them. But I know what I look like on a dance floor. And it ain't pretty. There was a table where we could enter a drawing to win fun stuff like beach towels, which we entered.

First stop: samples of lasagna from an Italian restaurant. It was delicious. Second stop: pizza. Sharon wanted to browse where we happened to be but I saw the 3rd stop was sub sandwiches from Jimmy Johns. I said Sharon - come on, we have to get our subs before they run out! So we sampled a sub - our choice of turkey or salami. Fourth stop: Mr. Chicken. There were no chicken samples, but they had sweet potatoes, cole slaw and the most delicious BBQ meatballs I have ever eaten. The Starbucks table looked like it was closing up, so we wandered through the store. I called my husband and suggested he come, but he had already eaten lunch. Then I called my parents:

Lenore: Hello?
Me: Hi. How are you? (Lenore has had pneumonia)
Lenore: I am good. You're calling from your cell phone.
Me: Yeah. I'm at BJs. You ought to come. There's free food from restaurants?
Lenore: Free food?
Me: Yes, and you don't have to belong to BJs.
Lenore (talking to Art, who heard "free food") - it's Bonnie. They have free restaurant food at BJs.
Me: It goes until 2:00.
Lenore: But it's 1:15.
Me: It's up to you - you're only 10 minutes away. I have to go; you can decide.

Exactly 12 minutes later, I looked down an aisle there were Lenore and Art

Lenore: We were watching the Kennedy funeral on TV. We already ate lunch. But dad said "you only go around once."

Sharon started to shop and I said wait, I have to watch them. This is greatly amusing to me. I watched as they sampled the lasagna, pizza and subs. I thought these are the only people I could call from BJs and have them run out to get the free food. At 86 and 84, I thought let me be like that at that age.

Little Charlie

2009-08-23T16:57:00.000-07:00

I wanted to write something special for this, being my 100th post, and I have known for a long time what the topic would be. And today I finally met the subject of my post - Little Charlie.

Little Charlie's parents, Michelle and "Stan" decided many years ago that they wanted to adopt. I don't think they knew at the time all of the work and adventures that awaited them in their search for Little Charlie.

Michelle was a journalism major in college and is an amazing writer. She kept a private blog of the experience, and this will be such a wonderful keepsake for Charlie when he grows up. Reading her blog was like reading a novel or watching an exciting movie, as her readers wondered what would happen next, and how soon it would happen. I would pass on some of the blog posts to some of my friends, who took great interest in what was happening. I don't think Michelle and Stan knew how many people were rooting for them.

So what did it take for Michelle and Stan to find Charlie? Well, in Michelle's words, it took "lots of money, paperwork, heartache and patience."

Money came in part from a fundraising cookbook that Michelle and Stan created (200 copies sold within one week!). One friend won a superbowl office pool and donated her winnings. Paperwork involved having the required background checks, home studies and countless fingerprints. Heartache - during the wait, Kaz, as it came to be called, closed, then suspended adoptions by U.S. citizens.

In October of 2008, Michelle and Stan were notified that they might be able to travel to Semey (Kaz) in 2008 to meet their baby. In November, they flew out there. There were some fascinating and humorous posts about the trip out there. They stayed in an apartment and visited the Baby House twice a day. It was so much fun to check the blog for pictures of this adorable little boy with very big cheeks. We were also treated to pictures and history of Kaz. After spending almost a month in Kaz, Michelle and Stan flew back to Cleveland alone. These are the rules. They then had to wait to find out when Charlie would be flown to Cleveland.

Charlie arrived in the U.S.A. (fittingly) on Valentines Day. I just love this picture of Charlie's Homecoming at the Cleveland Airport.

Charlie has grown and flourished in his first 6 months at his new home. We've read about Charlie tasting french fries, first words, discovering how lights turn on and off. And that smile - you just want to squeeze those plentiful cheeks and experience Charlie's joy for life.

So today David and I met Charlie and what a good time that was. Charlie is a VERY BUSY GUY. If I had 10 percent of that energy, I'd have a spotless house, a weedless garden, and a spotless office at work. He is a very lucky guy, because he has such committed parents who worked so hard to get him here, and continue to work hard to acclimate him to his new home. We feel fortunate to know these people and we hope to have more visits with Charlie, to watch him continue to bloom. And to see that smile that can just melt your heart.

.

Getting Rid of The Clutter

2009-08-17T17:24:00.000-07:00

I must be doing something wrong. I subscribe to Woman's Day and Better Homes and Gardens. I also have shared a subscription to People Magazine with a co-worker for about 20 years now. Every year when she gets the renewal notice, she asks "how many years should we renew for?" and I always give her the same answer: "one - who knows where we'll be next year...." And then a year passes by and we're doing the same thing.

But I digress. Maybe that's part of my problem, is that I digress too much. So in addition to my own magazines, Sharon gives me all her old issues of Family Circle, Good Housekeeping and Ladies Home Journal. They are piled high on my coffee table. Very high.

Now what do all of these magazines feature? Well, in addition to recipes that are dangerous to me, cause I cut them out and stick them in a pile to later be filed, and coupons (same thing), they all feature articles on how to get organized. If you judged me by how many of those articles I have read in my lifetime, you would think I was the most organized, clutter-free person on earth. Unfortunately, the opposite is true.

Tomorrow night our friend Jim is coming over to bring dinner. No special occasion; he comes for dinner occasionally, and at his request we have grilled cheese, tomato soup, some kind of potato, and a nice dessert. Well this time, he insisted on bringing the entire dinner, including dessert. So what does this mean to me? It means I have absolutely no obligations, other than to clear the clutter off the table. Uh, I mean tables. The kitchen is worse than the dining room.

I have been working on that for the last hour, and I am exhausted.

So how did I get so out-of-control? Well, I decided to analyze my piles. I think the #1 problem is recipes. I am so ambitious when it comes to recipes, that I cut out hundreds a year. I have a very organized notebook, with sections for meats, veggies, etc., that I tape the recipes in. The notebook is huge and the loose recipes far outweigh the ones in the organized notebook. What else? Retail coupons, restaurant coupons, and the neighborhood books of coupons. Now, if this wasn't plentiful enough, I have to thank David's friend Jeff Miller for our multiplying mail. Jeff, you see, subscribed to Sports Illustrated. He was having trouble reading the print, so he sent a change of address to the magazine, changing his address to our address. In other words, he was giving David his Sports Illustrated. Do you know how much mail we get now addressed to Jeff Miller? Sports Illustrated must make a fortune selling Jeff's name. At first I was complaining, but then we started getting "welcome to the neighborhood, Mr. Miller!" offers. Nice offers. Like half price coupons to nearby restaurants. We just have to pretend we are Jeff Miller cause half the offers have Jeff's name on the coupon itself.

What else? Oh yeah, Sharon's magazines. Every time we see each other, we do an exchange. Sharon, my dear friend, I am so out of control, and I swear I'm gonna read those 5 year old magazines, cause I just can't bring myself to throw them away, but they are largely responsible for my problem!

And the I-will-read-someday magazines like the Costco Connection. There's good stuff in there, especially the book reviews. Parade Magazines that separate themselves from the Plain Dealer every Sunday and end up in my clutter pile. Oh, and the Ohio Farm Bureau Magazine - I had to join the OFB to get a discount on my car and auto insurance, which is thru Nationwide. I have no idea what I would find in that magazine that would interest me, but I read it once and I actually liked it!

So there you have it. If I just had more hours in the day, I could work my way through the clutter and get a ton of reading done. Then again, I sadly think of my mother (Lenore) and father (Art) arguing over Art's clutter. Art worked as an engineer.

Lenore: "Art, get rid of the electronic magazines."
Art: "I will read them."
Lenore: "You will never read them. You have been accumulating them for years."
Art: "I will read them someday."

Sadly Art lost his vision before he could get to those magazines. I wonder if Lenore ever got rid of them.

I fear we will end up doing what we always do - throw all the clutter in a box.....never to be looked at again. I am bad.

Our New Garden Friend

2009-08-14T19:00:00.000-07:00

This is our new garden friend. I got it as a late birthday present from my friend Sharon. We don't know if it will work in keeping the critters out of the veggie garden, but I haven't seen any deer in there since we placed it there.

And maybe we'll get to eat a tomato or two before the critters steal them all.

Pepper is 15 today!!!

2009-08-14T14:56:00.001-07:00

I AM RERUNNING AN OLDER POST TODAY IN HONOR OF MY LOVELY DOG PEPPER'S 15TH BIRTHDAY TODAY.

About 12 years ago, my kids started bugging me about getting a dog. We already had cats, but they just weren't the same as a dog. I think my daughter envisioned jogging down the street with her long haired sleek looking golden retriever type of dog. I don't know what my son envisioned. I just wanted a friendly dog to love.

One day I was reading the paper, in the pets for sale section, which lists all the breeds alphabetically. I was open to any type of dog so I read every listing. The one that caught my eye was listed under "H" and it was for a "Happy Dog." Mixed breed. Perfect. I called the number, and was told that the owner (Ted) and dog lived on the other side of town and that Ted was moving out of town and could not take the dog with him. I asked if we could set up a time to meet the dog. Sure, he said, you can pick a 15 minute time slot, and he told me what time slots were available (there weren't many left). I said well now wait a minute, I'm not gonna drive across town with my kids and have you tell me that someone else already bought the dog. No, he said, I am setting up one evening where people can visit "Pepper" and then I will decide who can get Pepper. I said ok, and the next night I drove my kids across town. We went to Ted's apartment, and there were people on their way out who had just viewed Pepper. Now we had our 15 minutes. I prayed for my kids to be good, for us to look like the perfect family for Pepper. I felt like we were all auditioning for a show. Pepper liked us and licked us, but Pepper liked and licked everyone. When our 15 minutes was up, the next couple appeared for their owner-of-Pepper-tryouts. We got home, and I sat down and waited for the phone to ring. After 15 minutes of silence, I thought oh hell, I'm calling Ted. So I did, introduced myself and said "I just want you to know our family really wants Pepper." To my amazement, he said "well you were the first to call, so Pepper is yours. I just want a few more days with her - can you get her on Saturday?" I said sure.

I forgot to mention what Pepper looked like. Before we went to view Pepper, I asked Ted what breeds she was, and he told me she was a shelty dachshund mix. I also asked how much Pepper weighed, and was told she weighed 21 pounds. I somehow expected a delicate looking dog. How wrong I was.

Well the real Pepper was very low to the ground and very, very wide. Someone we know hit the nail on the head when he said she looked like an ottoman.

So on Saturday, we got the hubby to go with us to fetch Pepper. Hubby, remember, had never met Pepper. His words when he first saw her were "oh my God." Not an enthusiastic OMG, but more of an eye-rolling what-have-you-gotten-us-into-dear OMG.

So after a sad goodbye between Ted and Pepper , we took Pepper home. We weighed her. She weighed 42 lbs, not 21. Ted had given me a bag of Bill Jac food and Pepper refused to eat it. Ted called the next day to see how Pepper was. I said she's not eating - did she usually eat this dog food? Ted said well, actually, she ate a lot of table scraps. I said did you know she weighs 42 pounds? No, he said. Ted had owned Pepper for one year and we had the vet's records from one year ago. Pepper doubled in weight in one year!

So we set off to put Pepper on a diet (a difficult task), and to welcome her into our home (an easy task). Pepper was a lover of life.

About six months after we brought Pepper home, Ted called and explained that his roommate was very ill with a brain tumor and he and his roommate were in town for a few days and it was his roommate's wish to see Pepper - could they come over now? OK, I said, and I scrambled to clean the house, a task that takes much longer than an hour. The doorbell rang 30 minutes later and only Ted was at the door. He told us his roommate was too sick to get out and could he take Pepper to the car to see him? I thought either this is the saddest thing I've ever seen, or these people are about to kidnap my dog. I said ok, and I stood at the door, thinking in my delusional state that I would run after the car if they indeed tried to kidnap Pepper. But I need not have worried; 20 minutes later, Tom returned with Pepper and said "thank you so much. This meant to much to my friend. And Pepper seems happy."

We determined that Pepper was a border collie - corgi mix. We got her weight down. Not to 21, but fairly close. Pepper loves to eat. She joined the right family.

Pepper has brought so much joy to our family and well, I admit it, especially to me. She is the only creature who is overjoyed to see me 100% of the time. She kisses me and I kiss her and when I want companionship in the garden, she comes out with me. She makes me laugh cause she loves food so much she spends her day sitting in front of her empty bowl. She loves people and all she asks for is a little attention in return for her love.

Pepper used to follow me everywhere and she especially loved to get in bed with me (you had to hoist her up because those little legs of hers would not climb). Now she has slowed down considerably. When it's time to go out, she looks at you like you-mean-I have-to-get-up-now? Sometimes I get up in the morning and just touch her to make sure she's breathing. My happy dog has enriched our lives more than I ever would have thought possible.

The Hornet's Nest

2009-08-12T14:53:00.001-07:00

Look what we discovered in our front yard yesterday - a hornet's nest! (Click on it to enlarge it.)

David first had a crazy thought that he would tackle this himself. I told him to google how to get rid of a hornet's nests first. Then he came to his senses.

This prompted me to read up on hornets' nests. Wow. It is a huge nest. I learned that hornet nests are made of a paper-like material made by the insects from chewed up plant material and their own saliva. The honey comb shape is a very efficient way to pack a strong structure with lots of cavities into a small space, each comb cell in a wasp or hornet nest serves as the hatching and growth chamber for one egg and larva (since I am the most UN-scientific person on earth, you will know that I cut and pasted this from a site that I googled).

We called the city to ask for a recommendation on who to call to get rid of this. The city asked how close it was to the sidewalk. "Very close" David replied. And to our great joy, the city agreed to come and get rid of it. And it's gone today.

I kind of miss it! I read that a lot of people save the nest as "a decoration or conversation piece." So this picture will be our only reminder that it existed.

Margarita Pie

2009-08-03T19:37:00.001-07:00

At the office where I work, we have a cinqo de mayo party every year. One year, Marsha brought in this amazing pie and gave me the recipe. It is tangy and perfect for a hot day. It has become a family favorite:

Margarita Pie

Ingredients
1 (8 oz) container whipped topping, thawed
6 tbsps butter or margarine, melted
1/4 c sugar
1/2 c lime juice
1 (14 oz) can sweetened condensed milk
1 (1/4 oz) package Kool-Aid lemon-lime powdered drink mix
1 1/4 c pretzels, crushed

Directions
Step #1 Mix crushed pretzels, sugar & butter
Step #2 Press firmly onto bottom & up side of 9-inch pie plate
Step #3 Refrigerate until ready to fill
Step #4 Combine condensed milk, lime juice, & drink mix powder in large bowl until well mixed
Step #5 Gently stir in the whipped topping
Step #6 Pour into crust
Step #7 Freeze 6 hrs or overnight.
Step #8 Let stand at about room temp 15 mins or until pie can be cut easily.

Our Cottage in Michigan

2009-08-02T19:24:00.000-07:00

I have spent the last few days at our cottage in Michigan. I almost didn't go. I am embarrassed to say that I haven't been up there in about 8 years. This time was almost the same as prior years. There were so many reasons not to go; it's a long drive; this would be the first time leaving the kids at home alone - they would surely throw a party and the police would come; old dog Pepper has a UTI and no one would clean up after her or let her out....

But at the last minute, I decided to move outside my comfort zone (something I just told a fellow blogger to do) and I went. We belong to an association of other cottage owners, and there's an annual meeting, and this year the meeting was going to be at our cottage. That happens every 20 years. David was willing to go up alone, but I thought he should have his wife there to co-host this event.

I had a day of worrying; could Pepper make the trip with us? She'll be 15 in 2 weeks and is showing signs of her age. I gave up on the kids watching her. How would the kids do? Finally, I did what I always do when I worry too much; I became exhausted. And I reached the point of thinking que sera, sera.

It was a lovely few days. Pepper did fine on the trip - we stopped every few hours and she was a hit at the rest stops - one guy even gave her a dog biscuit he apparently keeps in his pocket. And once we got there, Pepper acted like a puppy! It was very amusing to see the transformation. The weather was perfect - not too hot. The cottage looks great - there is new furniture since I was last here.

Now I'll tell you what amused me the most about this trip. David goes up to the cottage every summer for a week with his high school buddies. They play golf, poker, and hang out. One of his friends, Jeff, wanted to spend some extended time at the cottage this summer. He went up in early July, stayed through the week of the guys hanging out, and stayed afterward. He used it as his home base as he visited friends and relatives in other cities.

Now Jeff has the cutest dog ever. He was featured in an earlier blog post, but here is Ducky again:

Well in the 3 days we spent at the cottage, EVERYONE we talked to said "I enjoyed talking to Jeff." David's family has owned this cottage since the 1920s and he doesn't know half the neighbors, but in the month that Jeff spent at the cottage, he somehow endeared himself to everyone up there. We had 15 people at our cottage for the association meeting and David didn't know who several of them were. But they all commented about how much they enjoyed being with Jeff. I think Ducky helped.

The Vegetable Garden

2009-07-27T19:01:00.001-07:00

A little white eggplant; Bing the cat feasting on weeds; a little broccoli; and yeah, that's me holding a giant zucchini and a little eggplant.

Foreign Languages

2009-07-24T14:41:00.000-07:00

I was sitting here reading blogs with the doors and windows open and I heard this very loud talking in a foreign language. Pepper the dog was barking and I thought what the hell is this? So I wandered over to the front door, and saw that the guy who lives across the street (I hear he's Russian; he's been living there 5 years and I've been planning on introducing myself for 5 years now) had stopped his car in the drive and went to get his mail, while the radio loudly buzzed out in Russian. I didn't even know you could get Russian radio stations.

It reminded me of my first year of college. I went to college in Toronto. My roommate lived in Ontario but was of Dutch descent, and they spoke Dutch in her home. So she always had the radio tuned to Dutch stations (I guess it's no different than the Russian station this guy was listening to). Every morning we would wake up to her radio alarm, with people speaking in Dutch.

Which reminds me of a party I went to last week. The hosts gave a party for their friend Wanda, also from Holland, who has been living here for many years. Wanda has a best friend, Wilma, who is visiting her for about a month this summer. So it was kind of a "meet Wilma" party. I talked to Wanda and Wilma and asked them how often they see each other. They said one will visit the other every 3-5 years. I asked how they keep in touch between visits and they said some email but they call each other every week. They said they just liked to hear each other's voices. Wanda has been living in the states for about 18 years, I'd guess, and Wilma was her best friend in Holland, and they remain best friends. They seemed to enjoy each other very much. They would be conversing in English and then they would just switch to Dutch, and as I sat there listening, I wondered "do they realize they just switched languages?"

Which reminded me of a French class I took in college. I had taken Spanish all through high school. But since the products in Ontario were labeled in both French and English, I decided I should try French. So what we had was a freshman class of kids who had all taken Spanish in high school. And the first day, the French professor told us there would be no speaking in English. None. So as we struggled along to have conversations, if we didn't know a French word, we automatically used the Spanish word, and we all understood each other cause we had all taken Spanish, and the French teacher spent the year yelling "NO ESPANOL!" The funny thing is that none of us realized we were doing it.

I really marvel at people who speak more than one language.

Mary Poppins

2009-07-22T18:36:00.000-07:00

David and I subscribe to the Broadway Series of shows that come to Cleveland. The last show in our series was last Friday night - Mary Poppins. I remember when I saw that it was included in the series, I thought ok....well, we'll just sit through it and MAYBE it will be enjoyable. I also knew that many of the season ticketholders would be bringing their children and grandchildren.

We parked and walked the short distance to the theater. Sure enough, there were lots of very young people. Boys and girls all dressed up, for a night of downtown theater. It reminded me of my own youth. My grandmother sang in the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus and we used to go downtown to see the "pops" series. I remember being overwhelmed by the fancy facility and all the people united in one place to see a concert.

It also flashed across this brain of mine that often parents or grandparents bring their kids to shows like this, sure that the kids will love it, but the shows are long, and often it is hard to hold the attention of young ones when a show lasts several hours, during which you must sit in your seat.

Well, it was an amazing show. The actors were amazing, as were the special effects. They actually had Mary with her umbrella way up in the air, sailing over all of us! And Bert tap dancing on the ceiling! And the music - well who can not get into Step in Time, Feed the Birds, and of course Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (I have no idea how to spell this)? And, when David auditioned for Fiddler earlier this year, it will always amuse me that he chose Chim Chim Cheree as his audition song. There is great music in this show.

For Good Commenters Out There

2009-07-22T15:26:00.000-07:00

Well I had a nice surprise today when I found out I won this award. For being a good commenter! And this from someone who's very easy to read and comment on! I did not know until today that she's only been at this for a few months, but check out Sandy's blog at

itsarealjungleoutthere.blogspot.com

I have to say, it's very easy to be a good commenter. You don't have to rack your brains out trying to think of something to say! You just read what someone else wrote and make a comment.

So I will take this time to thank the commenters on my blog, and I feel like we're all so intertwined that we've all checked out each other's blogs anyway, but here we go - to my loyal commenters:

themarmeladegypsy.blogspot.com

http://delaney55.wordpress.com

http://croneandbearit.wordpress.com

http://annos-place.blogspot.com

http://perpetualchocoholic.blogspot.com

Other than Jeanie at Marmalade Gypsy, who got me into this blogging world, I have never met any of these folks, but I feel like I know them, and I look forward to my evenings when I can sit back, relax and read their blogs. Subjects are all over the place, but they are always interesting.

Writer's Block Over Here

2009-07-21T16:07:00.000-07:00

Writer's block over here. This tooth thing has made me a little nuts. I'll spare the details, but recovery from this thing is slower than I thought it would be, and I have pain at night so I don't sleep and despite large volumes of caffeine in the morning, I feel like I'm in a fog all the time.

So I'm posting a current picture of Marty's garden. Note the solar lights - very cool - they light up at night (I guess that's what solar lights do).

The veggie garden has turned out to be a disaster. The only veggie growing, besides some lettuce, is zucchini. Some animals have eaten the tomato, bean and pea plants. I have to say, it has not been as much fun working in the garden this year. It's very buggy out there and having all those mosquito bites is yet another reason for me not to sleep.

It Wasn't TMJ

2009-07-11T12:27:00.000-07:00

Well, I saw my dentist on Monday, my birthday, to tell him I had TMJ. He x-rayed a tooth just to be sure, said the tooth looked fine, and I told him I'd like muscle relaxers, cause that's how it was treated 10 years ago. I also wanted anti-inflammatories and he told me to take Advil. Then we discussed how much ibuprofen I was taking and he declared it was way too much.

I left his office and went to work. I kept taking more ibuprofen. A co-worker told me I should call him back and tell him I wanted "the good stuff" to relieve the pain. I thought I'd wait for the muscle relaxers to work.

The next few days were a fog. I tried going to work for a few hours on Wednesday and a co-worker offered to get me a McDonalds shake at lunch. YES, I said - THANK YOU. And as I sat at my desk, falling asleep cause the pain was keeping me up all night, I thought once I get that shake, I'll be fine. Well she called and said guess what? McDonalds has no shakes today. I never understood how a place like McDonalds could run out of shakes. That was the final straw for me. I left work, stopped at another McDonalds, got my shake, and went home.

Thursday I woke up with a face that looked like the Elephant Man. I had a 7:30 mammogram scheduled, and I went from there back to the dentist, with no appointment. This is the second time in my life I have done this. Once when I was pregnant, I had horrendous head pain and didn't want to be told I could come in later in the day, so I had walked in as soon as the office opened and said I can't wait for an appointment. So I arrived at the dentist and the friendly receptionist said hello. I said I don't have an appointment, but I know I have a problem. After 3 nights of googling TMJ in the middle of the night, I had spent the previous night googling "abscessed tooth" because I knew that's what I had. The dentist graciously examined me again and said "this isn't TMJ." I said "I know." He said but the x-ray was fine. I said "I know." He handed me 3 antibiotic pills and said "I'm writing you a prescription - fill this right away, and if you don't see improvement by tomorrow, call me and I'll try to get you in to see an oral surgeon." The pain was horrendous. First thing the next day, I couldn't talk because I was so swollen and it was like I had 100 marbles in my mouth. I had my husband call and ask the dentist to get me in to see an oral surgeon. He did.

I went to see an oral surgeon at 12:30. He looked at me and said "I hope I can extract this today." That shocked me; I thought that's why I was there. I asked "why do you say you hope you can do this today?" And he said "because I don't know if I can control the pain." At that point, temporary pain didn't bother me if it would just end the chronic pain. He walked out and I said to his assistant "I am a wuss - can he knock me out?" She said she didn't know. He took more x-rays. I was surprised to learn that an x-ray will not always show an abscess. He said "I am confident this is the bad tooth" (the one the dentist had initially x-rayed, that showed nothing). He gave me a local anesthetic and pulled out the offending tooth. I looked at that little thing and thought I can't believe that little thing can cost me so much money and so much pain.

That was yesterday. I am on vicodin (the good stuff) and an antibiotic that I have to take every 6 hours and I can't lie down within a half hour of taking it. That makes sleep hard. I finished my book club book and caught up on People Magazines. I still look like the elephant man. The pain is less intense. The ultimate irony is that I have lost weight during this ordeal, but I look like I've gained 50 pounds. My formerly double chin is now a quadruple chin.

People have said "you're lucky it wasn't TMJ - that is very hard to treat." I think I am lucky that this is behind me, but I was hoping for a normal face by this point.

I missed almost a week of work. I have watched every episode of Housewives of New Jersey. I have learned I can't stand being out of commission.

July 6th - Another Year Older

2009-07-06T05:45:00.001-07:00

Well, today is my 52nd birthday. Our plan was to go to Little Italy yesterday to celebrate, but I have been afflicted with something that I believe is TMJ - and which is causing me a lot of pain. I was up at 3 this morning, reading emails and looking for blogs to read. The email part was fun, because this feature on facebook allows people to put my birthday on their calendar, and it is quite amusing to me to receive birthday greetings from old high school friends who I haven't spoken with in many, many years.

As for the blogs, well, it seems most people have taken a blog break, cause there wasn't much new out there!

Years ago, my son Joe declared there were 2 types of older females. A "lady" is a thin, beautiful female, with long hair. A "woman," on the other hand is an overweight female, usually with short hair. He did not hesitate to point out that I am a woman. Now whenever I hear the terms "woman" or "lady" I find myself thinking in terms of his definition. I wonder if I ever get thin in this lifetime and if I ever grow my hair out, if I can qualify as a lady. But being a woman is not all bad. I think of a woman as being more seasoned than a lady; someone who works harder; someone who's been around the block. So today I will define myself as a 52 year old woman.

I have had mixed feelings on the facebook concept for a long time now. At first it was fun, and then I thought ok, I've been there and done that, and there's nothing more to do. Then my friend Sharon convinced me to put my maiden name in there (I argued and said why bother) and I believe she was right in that - more people came out of the woodwork. I will say that most of the people I've "friended" (Sharon, who is in the know, corrected me when I said "befriended" and told me "friended" is the correct term) were not people I was good friends with in high school, but it is fun seeing what they are up to now. It seems most of my fellow Clevelanders have left Cleveland for places south and west.

A few weeks ago, I received a facebook message asking if I'd like to meet for lunch; one of the transplanted ladies (yeah, she's thin with long hair) was going to be in town and wanted to meet for lunch. I hesitated, cause I do work for a living, but then decided I could take the time off, and life is short, and I should do this. So I went. There were 7 of us who got together, and I have to say, it was surprisingly enjoyable. We had little conversations with whoever was next to us, and bigger conversations with the whole table, and I was surprised by how much in common I had with these people. As I looked around, I thought I really wasn't friends with any of them in high school, but it was very easy to talk to them, and it occurred to me that we had more in common than I thought. I think just growing up in the same period, in the same place, gave us that commonality. As an adult, I seldom meet people who I can just fall into an easy conversation with (other than the blogger friends I've made this past year, who are surprisingly open and friendly)!

So, as I wait for my dentist appt in mid-morning, I will hope to be pain free so that I can celebrate yet another year of being a woman.

Me and Heather and a Dead Mouse

2009-06-29T18:56:00.001-07:00

Last night, when I was so tired from my lack of sleep, I was looking forward to bedtime. David and Joe went to see Hangover, and I was home with Heather (age 21). It suddenly started to pour, and I quickly opened the door to let Bing the Cat in, and then I ran upstairs to close the windows.

As I was coming down the stairs, I saw a dead mouse in the hall. I assume Bing brought it in to proudly show us what he had been doing outside.

Me: (screaming) "HEATHER!!!"
Heather: "WHAT?"
Me: "There's a dead mouse in the front hall!!!"
Heather: "So what do you want me to do?"
Me: "KILL IT!"
Heather: "NO - you kill it!"
Me: "I can't."

I did venture a little closer to make sure it was dead. Today I was discussing with a co-worker whether it's better to find a dead mouse or a live mouse, and we agreed it would be better to find a dead one. I thought ok, maybe I can pick it up with an oven mitt. But that was just too gross for me to handle. So I moved the garbage can into the hall and got a broom and a dustpan.

Me: "HEATHER!"
Heather (annoyed): "WHAT?"
Me: "Come and help me."

Amazingly, Heather appeared. I handed her the dust pan.

Heather: "You're giving me a dustpan?"
Me: "yes. I'll sweep it in and you hold the dustpan."

Amazingly, she took the dust pan. I took that broom and swung like it was a golf club. We both screamed. It landed in the dust pan.

Me: "Throw it in the trash!"

She did.

Me: "Help me close the trash."

She did.

I grabbed the trash bag, screamed, and ran outside with it.

We are such wusses.

Another Night of No Sleeping

2009-06-29T14:18:00.001-07:00

I have found that Sunday nights are usually my worst, in terms of not being able to sleep. But last night was really ridiculous.

For some reason, I felt the need to worry about anything and everything.

My son lost his wallet. Who took it? Why? Did we need to worry about identity theft? Could it be lost in his car? How much money did he lose?

I had a doctor's appointment scheduled for this morning. Would I have gained weight? What is the lightest thing I could wear to the appointment?

I needed to get more exercise. Would I have enough energy to get up before my doctor's appointment and take a walk? If I did, would I be able to stop sweating after my shower? I didn't want to subject my doctor to my sweating body.

Over the weekend, I had read twice about the 10/10/10 rule. That rule suggests that with every complicated decision you make, you should consider how it will affect your life in 10 minutes, 10 months and 10 years. Well, let's face it - most worries will continue to be a worry 10 minutes from now. But 10 months or 10 years? Hell, there will be new things to worry about then!

This started at 3:00 AM. I stayed in bed for a while, trying to convince myself that nothing would matter in 10 years. It didn't work. I came downstairs at 4:15 AM. I let old Pepper the dog out. As I opened the door, I saw a car driving very slowly down our quiet street. Who could that be? What was that car doing? I finally realized it was the lady who delivers our paper, come rain or shine. I had no idea she arrived so early every day.

I read emails. I don't know why I subscribe to the New York Times via email. It comes way too often! I never have time to read it! And the only email waiting for me in the middle of the night is usually from my sister Laurie, who keeps bizarre hours.

At 4:30, I finally went back up to bed and turned on my lamp to read. I then noticed a fly that was buzzing around the lamp shade. I watched and listened to it for a while, and it became increasingly more annoying. I finally banged my book against the lamp shade. Well, that did 3 things. It woke David up; it caused tons of dust to fly thru the air – it’s one of those pleated shades that collects dust; and it caused Milo the cat to come racing over to see what was going on. Milo immediately made it his goal to kill the damn fly, which I missed when I banged the lamp shade. Milo got inside the shade and started pawing it, and the fly flew below my nightstand, as did Milo, and then Milo emerged, seemingly victorious, and climbed on David to sleep.
Mission accomplished. Easy for Milo to then relax; he's a cat. He doesn't have to get up in the morning!

I finally fell asleep at 6:30, only to be woken by the alarm at 6:45. I actually was glad the alarm went off, because that meant this awful night had come to an end!

Marty's garden

2009-06-21T09:56:00.000-07:00

Marty's Garden (created in memory of my wonderful father-in-law Marty, who passed away 3 years ago) has gained a new addition: an official sign. My son Joe created the plaque in ceramics class a few years ago (it's hard to read, but it says "In Loving Memory of Martin Luther Krauss"), and our friend Jim created the official sign holder to hold the plaque.

Jim is actually the one who gave me the idea for creating the memory garden. It has been his tradition to plant items in memory of friends who have passed away. It is a wonderful way to honor and remember a loved one.

Our House Guest

2009-06-19T17:11:00.001-07:00

Is this the cutest thing ever?

David's friend Jeff has been on a long road trip. He lives in FL and has been working his way up to our cottage in Michigan. En route, he stopped in Cleveland to stay for a few days. And he brought his little friend Ducky.

I worried about how my old dog Pepper might respond to Ducky, because Pepper is a border collie mix and I read once that border collies are a jealous breed. And we have certainly seen that. If we are seen petting or holding one of the cats, Pepper is immediately by our side, saying "give ME all your attention!"

Well, amazingly, Pepper loved this little shih tsu. She followed her around, with her tail wagging more than I've seen it wag in years. It's like she thought Ducky was a little toy.

Jeff lives alone and Ducky is a wonderful friend to him. He is clearly devoted to him. When Jeff wanted to take a walk, he had to sneak out. And when he returned, Ducky greeted him like he had been gone for months.

It was a fun 2 days.

DINNER AT THE FOLKS

2009-06-12T18:19:00.000-07:00

Dinner at the folks tonight. It can be comical, and tonight was one of those nights.

I was driving home from work today wondering what I was gonna do for dinner. David went up to the cottage in Michigan. Heather went down to Athens to move from one house to another. And Joe is never around. I loved that I was going to have an evening where I wasn't expected to prepare dinner. So I got home and my dad had left a message on my machine: "We have leftovers from a tray from Corky's. You must come for dinner. Call when you get this."

Corky and Lenny's is a well known deli in Cleveland. My dad was in a fraternity in college and at age 86, he still gets together with his fraternity brothers. The guys and their wives spend New Years Eve together and gather for dinners throughout the year. There have been deaths, illnesses and remarriages, and they are all going strong.

I will also add that my mother has the same "disease" that my sister and I have. It gets worse as we get older. The disease is that we always use the wrong word when we are telling a story. Our families are used to it, and they usually know what we mean.

So I called my dad back and said it's only me, but I'll come. I asked what time. He said I don't know - it's just 3 of us - you decide. I said ok, 5:45. He said 5:46. I said ok.

And I arrived at 5:46, cause that's how I was raised.

The table was set for 3 - me, dad (Art) and mom (Lenore). We all sat down and my mother looked at the tray and this is how the conversation went:

Lenore: "Oh look, there are sweet potatoes on the tray!"
Me: thinking, but not saying "huh?"
Art: "What do you mean there are sweet potatoes on the tray?"
Lenore: "What are you talking about? I never said there were sweet potatoes on the tray."
Art: "Bonnie, did she just say there were sweet potatoes on the tray?"
Me: (laughing) "yes."
Lenore: "Well I can't believe I said that."

So I went to help my dad, who can't see, with his sandwich.
Me: "What do you want on your sandwich?"
Art: "Steak pastrami."
Me: (looking at the tray with similar looking meats) "Which is the steak pastrami?"
Art: "What, have you become a goy? It looks different than the corned beef!"
Me: "OK, what else?"
Art: "Mustard."
I put some mustard on the bread.
Art: "That is not enough mustard! Even I can see that there's not enough mustard!"
Me: (looking at the tray) "Oh, I see sweet pickles. That must be what mom meant by sweet potatoes.*
Art: "You didn't know that? Of course that's what she meant. You think I could be married to her for 63 years and not know what she meant?"

Lenore: "Have some fruit. I cut up some fresh fruit today."
Art: "I'll have fruit."
Lenore dishes out a few pieces of cantaloupe.
Art: "That's enough."
Lenore keeps dishing out more fruit. Art and Lenore start talking to each other. Lenore keeps dishing out more fruit. Art keeps eating more fruit.

Me: "What are you gonna do with all this meat?"
Lenore: "Sam's coming for lunch tomorrow. I think I'll freeze the rest."
Me: "I don't think cold cuts freeze very well."
Art: "We don't want to freeze it. Call Bernice and invite her over for dinner tomorrow. We won't tell her we got the tray today."

Someone said my family is like a Seinfeld episode. Too bad the show went off the air. I would have plenty of material to submit.

Life Lessons

2009-06-07T12:57:00.000-07:00

Today was a day for thinking about life lessons. I attended the high school graduation of Linda. She is the last of our group to finish high school. This time, since I wasn't thinking ahead to the giving of the diplomas, I was able to listen to each speech, and they were not bad. Then I came home and read the paper. Our local paper, the Cleveland Plain Dealer, had re-published columnist Regina Brett's 50 life lessons. They are all worth considering:

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me.

It is the most-requested column I've ever written. My odometer rolls over to 50 this week, so here's an update:

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good.

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.

4. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.

13. Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

16. Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.

17. You can get through anything if you stay put in today.

18. A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

22. Overprepare, then go with the flow.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will this matter?"

27. Always choose life.

28. Forgive everyone everything.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.

30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

32. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends will. Stay in touch.

33. Believe in miracles.

34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

35. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

36. Growing old beats the alternative - dying young.

37. Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.

38. Read the Psalms. They cover every human emotion.

39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we'd grab ours back.

41. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

42. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

43. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

44. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.

45. The best is yet to come.

46. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.

47. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

48. If you don't ask, you don't get.

49. Yield.

50. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

Thoughts on a Marriage

2009-06-02T14:13:00.001-07:00

When I was young, I wondered about marriage. The thought occurred to me that once you make that decision, you are planning to be with that person the rest of your life. It was an overwhelming prospect to me. I am someone who needs alone time and when I spend too much time with anyone in close proximity, I feel - well - overwhelmed.

But I made that decision in 1985, and I have had no regrets.

What is amusing to me lately is how two people with different temperaments can successfully live together.

D is very calm. He ended one of his famous humorous newsletters with "what me, worry?" and I thought yep that's him. I, on the other hand, worry about everything. If anything can possibly go wrong, I've envisioned it in my head. That old anxiety gets worse as I get older. I used to think I would get calmer as I aged, but the opposite seems to be true.

I am also a person who tends to rush through things, including, sadly, life in general. While I don't plan to view life this way, it's like there's never enough time for me.

In the past few years, I've discovered that gardening can slow me down. I can putter around and it's ok. But there's still that part of me that's urging me to come on, hurry up, get this done.

And maybe this whole gardening thing is a way to look at our life together.

My brother owns a flower and vegetable seed company. He asked me what kind of seeds I wanted and I told him pole beans. I knew nothing about pole beans. I did a little internet research and learned they grow tall and need something tall like a pole (hence the name, I guess), for the plant to wind itself around. So I got my seeds in the mail. There were no instructions, because my brother's company sends to professional growers (I do not fit into that category). So after waiting weeks to find a guy who would actually show up to rototill the garden (another topic for another day), we were ready to plant. I was ready to just dig in the garden and plant the seeds. D, on the other hand, had to approach this in his slow, methodical way. He got on the internet and told me there was conflicting information. Some sites said the beans need sun; some said the beans need shade. He was standing there telling me about this dilemma and I just said "plant the damn things already." And thinking about our exchange later, with a smile, I realized how different our temperaments are.

The other night at dinner we decided to go to a nursery to get a few more vegetable plants. We weren't sure when the nursery closed, but we guessed 8:00. So after dinner, I was ready, but D was doing his usual "stuff." My son describes it as "dad's gotta do his rituals." He has to find his eyedrops, which is usually a 5 minute search. Then his wallet. Then he always tends to find a million things to do when it's time to leave. So this night, D started his rituals. It fills me with anxiety to wait for him, so I sat down at the computer to kill some time. Time went by. I waited. Finally at 7:35, I said "uh, I think we need to get moving" and he said "I've been waiting for you!" and I said "I've been waiting for you!" And if I could count how many times we have exchanged these very words, it would be a very large number.

We arrived at the nursery at 7:55. There were only 2 cars in the lot. We walked in and asked the three guys standing there, clearly anxious to leave, when they closed. "8:00" said the older one. I think the younger ones would have said "we're closed" had the older guy not been there. I said "we can do this in 5 minutes." It was a challenge. We had to get our bodies past the rows of racks of flowers they had pulled together in anticipation of closing. We each picked out a vegetable plant. We just needed one more thing - mulch. I said to D "grab a bag of mulch." Which is what I would have done. Well, there were about 20 varieties of mulch. And D stood there in front of those bags and said "I don't know what to pick." I stood there tapping my foot, knowing the guys who worked there were ready to kill us. D asked the older guy "what works best on vegetables?" and the older guy responded "they will all do fine on vegetables." OK, that would have been the time when I would have checked the prices and grabbed the cheapest bag. Not D. He stood there, looking at each bag.

We finally got out of there. It took more than the 5 minutes; I had prided myself on meeting that deadline.

And then there's the other thing that they say is the number one cause of conflict with couples: finances. If I had my way, we would save every penny. If D had his way, we would spend every penny. Somehow, some way, we have reached a medium that is probably where we should be. If D had to say the words heard most from me during our life together, it would have to be "I don't know how you think we have money for this." Well the ultimate irony happened the other day - we had moved a loan from one bank to another, and the new bank did a credit check and sent us their results. And would you believe D's credit score was higher than mine? The frivolous one gets the better grade?!!! Geez.

Lemonade Cookies

2009-05-24T11:46:00.001-07:00

'Tis the season for these tart cookies!

Lemonade Cookies

1 C butter
1 C white sugar
2 eggs
3 C all-purpose sifted flour
1 t baking soda
6 oz can frozen lemonade concentrate, thawed
2 T white sugar

Preheat oven to 400. Lightly grease a cookie sheet.

In large bowl, cream together butter and 1 C sugar. Blend in eggs. In a medium bowl, sift together flour and baking soda; gradually beat into butter mixture, alternating with 1/2 C lemonade concentrate. Drop mixture by rounded teaspoons onto the prepared cooking sheet.

Bake 8 minutes, until lightly brown. Brush lightly with remaining lemonade, and sprinkle with remaining sugar.

Tidbits from a Monday

2009-05-18T18:10:00.000-07:00

I don't like to complain, but I will. I just don't have much energy. I get up early, go to work, come home and I am dead to the world. Every day I say "I will not take a nap today" but the second I get home, I am hobbling up the steps to my room. I don't know why I get this tired every day. I'm not THAT old. But I guess my body feels old.

Today I got to work and found that our computer system was down. I was able to work in Word and I was able to send and receive emails. But the calls I get require me to log info into the computer system. Usually Monday is the busiest day of the week, but today was not as busy as most. I hate answering the phone and people want me to give them information and I can't. And then, on top of that, the roofers are working on the roof at work. I am on the top floor of our 3 story building, so they are right above my head. I don't know what they're doing up there, but it sounds like they are taking a 2 ton machine and crashing it on the roof and I am filled with anxiety as I wait for the roofers and the machine to come crashing through the roof on my head. I find myself yelling "Jesus" all day long. I wonder if that's a Jewish thing. AND, each time they bang on the roof, these big crumbs of dirt come flying through the ceiling and settle on my desk, my hair, you name it.

So I came home exhausted and fought myself over a nap and thought why am I fighting? I need a nap. But I kept it short, and then I went out with old Pepper the dog to work on the garden. I had my little headphones on with music blasting. Pepper used to follow me to the flower garden and lie down with me there, but she is no longer willing to walk that far. So she stays very close to the house and seems content to occasionally roll in the grass.

I love the fresh air. I love getting lost in dirt and weeds. The way I handle ALL big projects is the same - I chip away at it, bit by bit. So I just picked a small part of the garden, dug, sat on my little kid's chair and took great delight in pulling weeds. I think the older I get, the more I take great joy in mindless activities.

And while I love to cook, lately my goal is to expend the least amount of energy to get dinner on the table. Tonight it was hot dogs. With store purchased cole slaw and potato salad. I am really going downhill. I remember years ago, I went to visit one of our claims offices in another city. There were 2 ladies who worked there. One lady came in and said "I reached the lowest of lows last night." The other lady asked what happened. The first lady said " my husband is out of town, so I made mashed potatoes for dinner and just ate them out of the pan." The other lady asked "were they instant or real?" "Real," the first lady replied. "You didn't reach the lowest of lows," said the second one. And that exchange always amused me, and still keeps me amused, 10+ years later.

After dinner, it was time to just plop on the couch and watch a rerun of Two and a Half Men and then Jeopardy.

And I'm embarrassed to say I'm ready for bed.

Mother's Day 2009

2009-05-10T07:55:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day 2009. So many who I am close to have lost their mothers and this is a sad day for them. As I was reading one of my woman's magazines the other day, I saw this Dr Seuss quote: "Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened." And I think it is a fitting quote for those who are missing a mom.

I am lucky enough to have my mother still around. At almost 84, she is like the ever-ready bunny - she keeps on going and going and going. As a matter of fact, she was honored at a lunch on Friday, winning an award for all her volunteer efforts. She has recorded tapes for the blind for many, many years. She is active in a group that makes dolls for the homeless shelters. She makes shawls for women in Somalia, leads a group of women singers that performs at old age homes, works at the food shelter, etc. And she takes care of my dad, who lost his sight years ago.

I give her my food magazines when I'm done looking at them, because she likes to try new recipes - she likes to stay young and try new things. When she invites us for dinner, nothing is simple. There is always a buffet with about 20 items on it. And her garden is just beautiful.

Of her 3 kids, I am told that I look the most like her (only truthfully, if I didn't color my hair, I would have more gray than she does!). I think I inherited from her a need to keep busy. Even when I seem to be relaxing, I am always thinking I should be doing more.

When she was diagnosed with breast cancer last year and went through radiation therapy, she made sure she was scheduled for first thing in the morning. She wasn't about to give up a day for radiation therapy! Let it happen and let her begin her day.

She has always been there for her kids and grandkids. She was the emergency contact when my kids were in school, because I knew she would always drop what she was doing and pick up one of my kids if they got sick.

She has held the family reunion at her home for many years. I think no one else wants to be bothered with the responsibility of having those people over. She enjoys doing it.

I am proud of her, for all she has accomplished and for who she is. We are blessed that she is still with us. Happy Mother's Day, mom.

World's Oldest Dog Turns 21

2009-05-07T14:38:00.000-07:00

Taken from the N Y Post - the world's oldest dog. I LOVE dachshunds, so I had to put this on here.

Chanel -- named the oldest dog by Guinness World Records last year -- is taking a rare trip from her Port Jefferson Station home to mingle with canine buddies invited to her Manhattan birthday party.

The old girl's red hair faded to white a long time ago. Her cataracts force her to wear special doggie glasses and her bones feel the cold.

Her home is kept at a constant 72 degrees. She eats boiled chicken with whole-wheat pasta, and a specially selected soft treat designed for her ancient teeth.

And she spends her days relaxing at home, only taking walks in the summer.

"She used to run three miles with me every day," said Shaughnessy, a high-school principal's secretary who adopted Chanel from a Virginia shelter as a 6-week-old pup.

"She still enjoys a walk, but now she's carried for a lot of it."

Chanel took the title as the oldest dog last spring when a 28-year-old beagle from Virginia died.

A Brief Glimpse of a Magnolia Tree

2009-05-05T16:54:00.001-07:00

Well I've been a bit out of commission lately - mostly because my son Joe, who up until this week, has never studied in his life, has decided to study. Which means he is hogging the computer ALL THE TIME.

But Cousin Deet just sent me this picture that she took when she was in town to see Fiddler, so I had to publish it. If I were halfway competent on this thing, I'd put her blog in as a link, but I'm not, so it's http://themarmeladegypsy.blogspot.com/
Anyway, as anyone who knows magnolias, they are beautiful for just a few days, so we were very lucky to have a magnolia in bloom at the same time our talented photographer was in town.

Fiddler: The Story of a Friendship

2009-04-26T14:48:00.000-07:00

Top picture: full cast

Second picture: me and David, out of costume

Third picture: David as Avram

Fourth picture: From left: Sharon (mama), David (Avram) and me (mama)

Fiddler On The Roof is over. And now we can all rest.

Several people have asked when I was going to post about this production. Well, you kind of have to know the background of this show to fully understand why this production was so important. I had alluded to this in an earlier post about Fiddler, so if I repeat myself, bear with me.

More than anything to me, this production was about a friendship. A very strong, loyal friendship between two women. Sheila is the drama director at the local high school. She directed this show several years ago with her best friend Debby as the musical director. The two met in college and they shared the same birthday. They were best friends for 36 years. Both single women, they shared the bond that only single women can share.

My friend Sharon and I have been friends since birth. I remember well our single days. Friday nights at China Gate Restaurant. Saturday nights watching Fantasy Island on TV. We eventually married and had families of our own, but the single women friendship is a unique, solid bond that I will always remember.

Eventually Sheila and Debby worked together on high school musicals. Sheila was the drama director and Debby was the musical director. They agreed on pretty much everything, and they put on some wonderful productions. In 2001, they together directed Fiddler on the Roof. It was a major hit in our small community. The shows were sold out. The production featured students and staff in the cast.

Five years later, Debby was diagnosed with cancer. She was looking forward to working with Sheila again on the next production of Fiddler. They had decided to do it again together. Unfortunately, Debby lost her battle in 2008. Sheila was determined to continue with the production, and to devote it to Debby.

As she details in her introduction in the program, the tough part was finding a new music director. One man's name kept coming up - Brad - and here I'll use Sheila's words to descibe what happened next:

When I first met Brad face to face, I remember telling him that I was not going to try to turn him into another Debby. I then told him that this show was going to be a very tough one for me to get through. I broke down. I'll never forget. Brad, who was a perfect stranger up until that meeting, took my hand and said "Don't worry. I'm here for you. I'll get you through it."

And Brad kept his promise to Sheila. And Sheila kept her promise to Debby.

And those of us who participated in this production felt very fortunate to be part of this devotion between friends.

On opening night, Sheila did a formal tribute to Debby, presenting her mother and sister with a scrapbook she had prepared from email letters written by students who had worked with Debby.

As for the production itself, I have to say it was just fun (other than rehearsing til midnight the few nights before the production). My husband David played Avram the Bookseller, and Sharon and I were mamas and villagers. None of us had performed beyond high school.

It is interesting to watch how a production evolves. Every part of it starts from nothing - an empty stage turns into a realistic looking set created by Ron, a solid guy in overalls who has a full-time job and created this set after working all day. Sandy, the pretty costume lady who amazingly took our shirts and removed the collars (that was probably the least skilled thing she did but we were all very impressed!). Brad, the music director who added a spirit of fun to the musical numbers. Joel, the tech guy, who injured his leg and needed surgery one week before the production - he also had a part in the play that included dancing. We assumed he would need to be replaced, but he continued in both the acting and the tech roles - I have never seen anyone with more energy.

And the cast - the high school kids all knew each other, but many of us adults came into this as strangers. As we got more comfortable, we opened up to each other. Ileen, a grandma, loved to bake and provided us with baked goods for all 3 shows. She also entertained us cause Ileen knows everyone and everything. She probably should have been cast as Yente. And Laura always made me laugh. Two menopausal women trying to remember the basic blocking moves - an almost impossible task, but made much easier with the laughter. Even in the sad scenes, we had to be careful not to laugh. Jean, who was in the show with her talented son Cody, started out very quiet but then opened up and she is the one who decided the mamas should supply all of the snacks for the shows (we did a great job). And the last mama, Sharon, was my reason for being in the show. When Sheila called Sharon to see if she would be in the show, Sharon suggested me. Sharon and I have spent most of our 50 some years together in a friendship that involves laughter more than anything else. In our last production of the show, there is one number where Sharon and I and 2 others are to rush over to lift the bride in a chair and turn around with her in the air. Well in our rush, we smacked into each other and we couldn't move cause we had smacked into each other, and I laugh now at that image as I write this, and we laughed then, and we will hopefully spend the rest of our lives laughing together.

And for David, well, it turned out that he is a very talented actor! Sharon and I loved watching him at rehearsals. His facial expressions were priceless. We are wondering if this is the start of something new for him.

We are all so engrained in the Fiddler mentality that every time we hear any phrase at all, we tie it in to a line in Fiddler.

It felt like this weekend would never get here, but it did, and it went by so quickly. My email friend Ellen, who hears from me many times a day, told me I would go into withdrawal after the show. So far, though, I'm just enjoying the relaxation.

Three days before the final show, I was sure we had no idea what we were doing and that it would be a flop. At dress rehearsal, I had more hope. Then came the performances, and we had 3 great audiences who laughed in the right places and appeared to enjoy themselves as much as we did.

David's Cousin Deet and her boyfriend Rick drove in from Lansing to see the show. Other friends and relatives came to see the production, and I believe they were all very impressed. I am grateful to all who took the time to come see us. It meant a lot.

Just before our last show, Sheila thanked us, and told us we were a "comfortable cast" and by that she meant, there were no egos involved as you sometimes see in shows like this - we all came together to do a job, and we did it. And did it well.

But it was more than just putting on a show. It was about helping one friend complete a promise to another friend. As part of a strong, long-standing, loyal friendship that started when two college girls realized they shared the same birthday. And that seemed to mean the most. To all of us.

Sundays with Suzy

2009-04-20T20:20:00.000-07:00

Many years ago, I was required to attend Sunday school at temple. Most years I was just bored and tired, but I made some new friends along the way. However, one year of Sunday school was a nightmare. Why? Because of mean Suzy.

In my youth, I have no memories of anyone tormenting me other than that year of Sundays with Suzy. Suzy was just plain cruel. I don't remember the details of any of her remarks, other than that she was just plain mean. On the few times when Suzy was absent, I could stand Sunday school, but when she was there, I just dreaded going.

Suzy had escaped from my mind (most things these days have escaped from my mind). Well, today I attended the funeral of a friend's mother. After the graveside service, everyone was invited to my friend's house. As is the Jewish tradition, the family sat and ate a meal - a dairy tray. As an aside, I will add that David and I love dairy trays but we have noticed that the only time we ever get dairy trays is when someone dies. Anyway, David likes the lox and other smoked fish and I like the gefilte fish, creamed herring, egg salad, etc. So many treats all together on one tray.

So David and I arrived at my friend's house. I had allowed time for my friend and her family to get there and eat. We arrived, and the family was at the table eating from the tray. David and I stood around talking and then we decided to leave. We went to say goodbye to my friend and she said "come and have some food." I said no, we're not hungry." I lied because I think that those expensive dairy trays are only for the family. She kept insisting and said "I'd like to sit down and talk with you - just come and sit at the table and have something to eat." She didn't have to twist our arms. So we sat down at this long table - 2 tables pushed together, actually. I was at the end of the table. I looked at the other end of the table, and - OMG, it was Suzy! I asked my friend "who is that woman at the other end of the table?" She said "her name is Suzy _______." Holy shit, I thought. My friend asked if I knew her and I said yes, she tormented me many years ago in Sunday school. I hate her.

Well my husband took offense to that remark. "Bonnie," he asked "do you know what she's like today?" And I said "I don't care what she's like today. I hate her." He said "for all you know, she could be a perfectly nice person." I said "no way - once a mean person, always a mean person. Mean people don't become nice." And he gave me his "you are an idiot" look. My friend asked what we were talking about. I said well, David thinks people can change, and I say someone who was so mean can never be nice. And my friend said "I agree with you. I was very tall in my youth, and my mother made me go to dance classes, and one of the girls in that class was so mean to me, and occasionally I see that girl (lady) when I'm out shopping, and she doesn't remember me, but I remember her, and I always think that one day I'd like to walk up to her and say 'you know, you were really mean to me when I was young, and it really hurt my feelings, and anyway, you're ugly.'"

I don't know why that struck me as so funny, but it did.

I am just not the type to approach someone and say something like that, but I can fantasize that I will have that encounter with Suzy, and say the words my friend wanted to say to her tormentor.

Beachwood Fiddler: Almost Here!

2009-04-15T19:39:00.000-07:00

My Easter Dinner Food Failures

2009-04-14T17:33:00.000-07:00

Every year we have the discussion "where are we having Easter this year?" Truth be told, I do enjoy cooking, and I spend half the year cutting out new recipes, but when it comes time to determining where we will have a dinner, I always vote for someone else's house. Why? Cause I hate cleaning. It takes much longer to clean than to cook. And it's not just that it takes time to dust, etc. - it's that we always run out of time and stuff everything into a box. And we have boxes throughout the house that were stuffed for the sole purpose of having people over to eat.

So when I mentioned to sister-in-law Mary that I hate to clean, she said "we don't care how your house looks." Ha! This, coming from the cleanest person I know. Then she started to tell me about her bad shoulder and how her physical therapist said she should not use her arm for anything other than physical therapy. And then she volunteered to host Easter dinner. "Mary," I said "how can I possibly say ok after hearing about aIl your shoulder problems?" And she said "well I'll get help." Feeling like a heel, I said oh, we'll do it at our (dirty) house.

And I decided to do something untraditional this year. Every Easter it's the same thing - David decides to cook a meat that he puts great effort into, and it is NEVER, NEVER, NEVER done when it's supposed to be done. It's either done 45 minutes early or it's raw when all the sides are ready. So I said ok, this year I'm going to make something that we put in the oven, and we take it out when it's hot, and there's no fuss.

So the day before, I made 2 lasagnas. I thought that was a lot for 9 people, but everyone I asked said oh, you better make 2. So we are now eating lasagna for lunch and dinner every day because there was a whole one left.

I know they say you should let lasagna sit when you take it out of the oven, but I never got that, because when food sits, it gets cold. So you either have liquidy lasagna, or you have cold lasagna. This time we had the liquidy lasagna.

But my real effort was in my dessert. I had my Taste of Home Magazine, which I love, and there was a picture of these beautiful cheesecake balls. I won't duplicate the recipe here, because I will spare you the grief I experienced. In short, you bake a cheesecake, with no crust. You freeze it overnight. The next day, you let it sit out for an hour. Then you roll the cheesecake into one inch balls, and dip them in graham cracker crumbs. Well, the damn thing wouldn't roll into balls. So I decided squares would do. After I got bored cutting squares, I tossed half the cheesecake. David walked into the kitchen and said his usual "I don't know why you always try to do this kind of thing." I had to agree with him this time. So then you freeze the cheesecake balls (squares) for an hour. Then you take them out, melt white chocolate, and dip the balls (squares) into the melted chocolate. You then dip it in toppings of your choice - chocolate chips, sprinkles, etc. I forgot how much I hate working with melted chocolate. It only stays the right temperature for a few minutes. Kind of like the lasagna! So I dipped a few and gave up. The results are pictured above.

Never again.

Being Lazy

2009-04-03T17:53:00.000-07:00

David and I subscribe to a series of Broadway shows at the downtown Cleveland Playhouse Square. We have been subscribers for over 20 years. Every year we get a renewal form and they ask if we want to keep the same seats and we say YES.

Our seats are in the last row of the orchestra section, and one is an end seat (a must for David). Not long after we joined, they turned our row into the disabled row. Our two seats are still there, attached to the floor, but the other seats are individual chairs, so people with wheelchairs can have access. The best part is the huge amount of leg room we have. It has spoiled us tremendously, because whenever we have seen shows with different seats, we feel claustrophobic. There is so much space in front of our seats that many use it as a row to cut through instead of standing in the long lines to get out.

One year the theater called to ask if we are disabled. David said no. So they moved our seats! It was terrible. We were moved back several rows. We complained, cause your seats are only supposed to stay the same or get better the longer you are a subscriber, and we got our disabled seats back.

Well we had a show tonight. I try to take off Fridays when I have a show, cause I don't have much energy to begin with, but when I have to drive downtown, drive home, drive back downtown and back home, I am not happy. But I couldn't take off today. So I left at 3:00. It was very cold and rainy. I got home and got under the covers, and David joined me. When I opened my eyes, it was 6:10. We normally leave at 6:30. I said "David, it's 6:10!" and he said "so what are we doing?" I said "well we're either going to the show or not going to the show." Not a tough decision for him, because he had been complaining that he would miss the Cavs game tonight. We had never heard of the show ("I Love You Because"), and the thought of getting dressed, driving downtown, walking in the cold wind - just wasn't appealing.

So we're hanging out at home. David and Joe are watching the Cavs. David announced "we have a serious problem in our house." I thought oh no, what big expenditure did he find now? I asked what, and he said "we have no cookies in this house." I remembered that I had bought these frozen snickerdoodles from Trader Joe's and I said I can make them. He was quite happy about that.

So I preheated the oven, and placed the pre-cut cookies on a cookie sheet, and I smiled to myself as I thought of all the blogs I subscribe to, where they show the bowl of dough being mixed and then the final product. Eighteen minutes later, voila, they were done. They are QUITE good. And quite easy.

I needed this lazy night.

And I will admit to further laziness in that I didn't photograph these cookies - I found a picture online.

Our Need for Space

2009-03-29T09:18:00.001-07:00

These aren't mine, but I would love it if they were!

Yesterday hubby David and I went out together to run several errands. As we parked in one shopping plaza, I noticed a pet store. The last time I had been at this plaza, Heather had said "oh, let's go see the puppies!" And we had, and it was fun. I am not a big pet store person - we have always picked out our animals at the Animal Protective League, but who can resist looking at puppies? So we went in, and each cage had 2 or 3 puppies inside. And they were so sweet. I noticed they were all lying on top of each other in their cages, even though there was lots of room throughout the cage.

And I thought I guess we're born with that desire to cuddle up with other creatures. And somewhere along the way, we develop a need for space. I know that I have a strong need for space. If people get too close, I think ok, that's enough. I don't ever say "you're a little too close," but I do have a friend who will tell people to step back if they are too close.

I have spent a lot of time with parents of special needs kids, and a big commonality is that the kids don't understand or respect space. They are always standing too close. And we are always reminding them to give us more space.

And I'm thinking now that those kids are like the puppies. Maybe we should be more like them.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HEATHER!

2009-03-28T12:36:00.000-07:00

Heather is 21 today. I can't believe it's been 21 years since we rushed down to the hospital, having no idea what to expect (she came 2 weeks early, and I missed the movie in Lamaze class about a woman giving birth).

We had a family party for her last week when she was home for spring break - here she is pictured with Grandma at the party.

Now she is at Miami U, visiting her friend and enjoying her new legal status.

Deer in Our Yard

2009-03-26T14:38:00.001-07:00

This picture of some visitors in our back yard was taken a few weeks ago. I hope they get their fill now and leave our garden alone when it's actually growing stuff!

Boston Ellen's Chicken Noodle Casserole

2009-03-25T15:28:00.000-07:00

As promised, here's the recipe I got from Boston Ellen, who I also call Betty Crocker. I wish I had a photo,
but we ate ours pretty quickly. It's quick to assemble and just hits the spot.

Boston Ellen's Chicken Noodle Casserole

Small box of frozen peas.
4 cups (uncooked) of medium width egg noodles
2 cans cream of mushroom soup
2 cans chicken (or equivalent of cooked chicken)
1 cup milk.

Boil noodles and combine with other ingredients. Put in greased baking pan
and bake @ 400 for 35 minutes or until heated through.

*my note - while it wasn't in the recipe, I added a half cup of grated cheddar and it was good.

I am Hopeless

2009-03-23T19:19:00.000-07:00

Well, for anyone who read my blog 3 months ago, you might remember that I had a brainstorm right before my last doctor's visit - I brought some home-made ginger snaps to my doc, had my usual weigh-in (and it wasn't good) and when he walked into the office, I held out the bag of cookies and said "these freshly baked cookies are yours if you don't comment on my weight." And he said "deal!" and hell, it was an easy office visit.

Well tomorrow is my next visit, and I swear every time I go to the doctor, I say ok, I WILL lose weight by my next visit. And then life happens, and life brings stress, and for me, stress means extra eating. It didn't help that last night we went to my sister's house for my nephew's birthday party and she had made her amazing oatmeal cookies. No one makes oatmeal cookies like Laurie. And while I had vowed to work really hard this week before the appointment, we ended up sitting around the table, sipping herbal tea, and my sister-in-law and I did the take-a-little-piece-of-cookie-and-keep-doing-that-and well, soon it isn't a little piece anymore.

And then my friend Boston Ellen, who has given me great recipes over the years, mentioned the other day she was making a chicken noodle casserole. Ooooh, I said, that sounds good. So she gave me the recipe. And it was easy. I assembled it yesterday, and today all I had to do was come home and put it in the oven. I thought ok, I will take one helping and then remove myself from the table. One more failure. We sat around with the noodle casserole and fresh italian bread and even skinny Heather took multiple portions. Thanks a lot, Ellen.

And having resigned myself to having a bad outcome tomorrow, I lowered myself to the last resort - I baked a lemon blueberry bread, and wrapped a few pieces for the doc. I told Marsha at work what I was doing, and she said "you're baking for him again? It's not even a holiday!" And I'm thinking "duh, Marsha, I don't bake for him because it's a holiday; I do it to lessen my guilt by silencing him!"

And since I knew I had blown it, and I was tired and the house is a mess and we have a houseful of people coming over tomorrow night to celebrate Heather's 21st birthday, I really did myself in. I ate spicy jelly beans as I watched House.

I am hopeless.

On Being Middle Aged

2009-03-14T21:31:00.000-07:00

My first boss died of a brain tumor in his mid 40s. About 10 years after he died, I was talking to one of my co-workers and he commented that he was the same age as my boss had been when he died. He said you know, this is the age where you finally come into your own, and it's too bad he never got to experience that.

I was surprised by the comment, because this co-worker and I rarely talked about anything other than work. But it was one of those comments that always stuck with me.

Sometimes people make the comment that they would love to be young again. I am not in agreement. While I'm starting to feel old in many ways - with memory loss, aching joints and daily medications - I don't want to go back there. I think of youth as always worrying what people will think. Decisions being made based on how others would perceive me. Yeah, I've been there and done that, and I'm quite happy with where I am.

In my youth, I was a workaholic, and I thrived on that. When our company went through an upheaval years ago, and we were all stressed out to the max, I started to re-evaluate my priorities. And I decided that more than anything else, I wanted peace and balance in my life. I set up an interview at a company that was a 7 minute drive from my home, after driving downtown for 19 years. The position at this company was a lesser position than what I had previously held, and I wanted that lesser position. But the person interviewing me didn't get that, and had me come back for something like 5 interviews with different employees there, who were all shocked that I was going DOWN the career ladder. I explained to each one that I was looking for more balance and fewer responsibilities. I didn't understand why they didn't get that. I'm thinking it's a middle-aged mentality.

I had one interview at a place where the interviewer reminded me of me 25 years ago. She was very important at that company, and she felt important, and it was very important for her to feel important! During the interview she talked disparagingly about employees who arrived right on time, who took their full lunch, and - god forbid - who left right at 5:00. I honestly was feeling there wasn't enough air in that room and I had to get out of there! I thought lady, there is more to life than your job! But she was young, and hadn't smartened up yet.

I think part of aging is really enjoying the simple things that I would have found boring in my youth. Like gardening. I started to get into that a few years ago, and I can't tell you the joy I experience in the summer just walking out to my little flower garden and vegetable garden and seeing what's growing there. I'm thinking when you're young, you have accomplishments like good grades or starring in a school play or getting on a varsity team. Now, getting anything to grow when there was previously only soil is a major accomplishment that makes me proud!

And while I have known older people who speak their mind to the point of being obnoxious, I think middle-age brings with it an it's-ok-to-say-what's-on-your-mind mentality. As long as it's respectful.

Part of being middle-aged is also being able to see your kids in a different light. I'm not there to tell them what to do anymore, but to watch and hope they make the decisions that are best for them. Of course as a mom, I will always worry about my kids, but it's kind of interesting to see the paths they choose for themselves.

So I don't yearn for the days of my youth. I'm quite content with where I am right now.

Tuesday Musings

2009-03-10T18:27:00.001-07:00

I have a pair of slippers I've had for many years. Too many years, I guess. They are so comfortable. They are suede with a hard rubber bottom, with a fleece lining. Well, after many years, they are torn - I mean like 6 inch slits - and the fleece is kind of hanging out. But I love these slippers. The other day, David said "you need new slippers" and I said "these work fine for me." I mean, it's not like I wear them out in public. Last night I was cleaning the dining room table and saw that he had left his beloved Cabela's catalogue open to the page on slippers. He doesn't get that I don't want new slippers! Some things are just fine the way they are. Even if they don't look it.

I heard a cat meowing earlier this evening. I went in search of a cat who might have been locked in a room or closet. I went past daughter Heather's room. She was in over the weekend, and she does not believe in making her bed. Well my oldest cat, Bing, who gets huge every winter cause he stays in (he slims down every summer) was all curled up in a ball on Heather's jumble of blankets and sheets. This big blonde ball. And I went to pet him, and it was pouring outside and you could hear the rain coming down, and I just thought I'm so glad we brought this animal home from the animal protective league 10 years ago and we supply him with a warm, dry, loving home, while he provides us with his own brand of love and lots of amusement.

I think 2 hours is just too long for an American Idol episode. I can only watch it if I'm reading a paper or doing laundry or dishes in between songs.

A True Duck Story

2009-03-06T20:23:00.000-08:00

This post is dedicated to Sharon, because this story made her so happy.

A True Duck Story From San Antonio . . ...

Something really cute happened in downtown San Antonio this week ...

Michael R . is now an accounting clerk at Frost Bank and works
downtown in a second story office building.

Several weeks ago, he watched a mother duck
choose the concrete awning outside his window
as the unlikely place to build a nest above the sidewalk .

The mallard laid ten eggs in a nest in the corner of
the planter that is perched over 10 feet in the air.

She dutifully kept the eggs warm for weeks,
And Monday afternoon all of her ten ducklings hatched .

Michael worried all night how the momma duck was
going to get those babies safely off their perch in a busy,
downtown, urban environment to take to water,
which typically happens in the first 48 hours of a duck hatching .
Tuesday morning, Michael watched the mother
duck encourage her babies to the edge of the perch
with the intent to show them how to jump off!

The mother flew down below
and started quacking to her babies above .

In his disbelief Michael watched as the first fuzzy
newborn toddled to the edge and astonishingly
leapt into thin air, crashing onto the cement below .

Michael couldn't stand to watch this risky effort.
He dashed out of his office and ran down the stairs
to the sidewalk where the first obedient duckling
was stuporing near its mother from the near fatal fall.

As the second one took the plunge, Michael jumped forward and
caught it with his bare hands before it hit the concrete.
Safe and sound, he set it by the momma and the other stunned
sibling, still recovering from its painful leap.

One by one the babies continued to jump.
Each time Michael hid under the awning just
to reach out in the nick of time as the duckling made its free fall.

The downtown sidewalk came to a standstill .

Time after time, Michael was able to catch the
remaining 8 and set them by their approving mother .

At this point Michael realized the duck family had only made part of its dangerous journey .

They had 2 full blocks to walk across traffic, crosswalks, curbs,
and pedestrians to get to the closest open water, the
San Antonio River.

The onlooking office secretaries and several
San Antonio police officers joined in.

They brought an empty copy paper box to collect the babies.
They carefully corralled them, with the mother's approval,
and loaded them in the container.
Michael held the box low enough for the mom to see her brood .

He then slowly navigated through the downtown
streets toward the San Antonio River . .

The mother waddled behind and kept her babies in sight .

As they reached the river,
the mother took over and passed him,
jumping into the river and quacking loudly .

At the water's edge, he tipped the box and helped
shepherd the babies toward the water and to their
mother after their adventurous ride .

All ten darling ducklings safely made it into the water
and paddled up snugly to momma .

Michael said the mom swam in circles, looking back toward
the beaming bank bookkeeper, and proudly quacking.

Live simply,
Love generously,
Care deeply,
Speak kindly and leave the rest to God .

Sunday Musings

2009-03-01T08:11:00.000-08:00

Ah, another Sunday.

I went to bed late last night. First David and I watched the Mama Mia movie with Meryl Streep. Great music. He didn't remember much of it; says he was into rock in those years. Then I watched a Lifetime movie called America, which was really good. When I was sick a few weeks ago, I tried to watch several Lifetime movies but they just seemed to exaggerate good and bad - the good wife and the evil husband kind of thing. But America, about a boy named America who was in the foster care system, was very well done. Rosie O'Donnell was in it.

I woke up at 6:30 and decided while I was up, I'd let Pepper out, and then I went back to bed. I'm reading a very interesting book now called Mozart and the Whale; an Asperger's Love Story. It's the true story of a man and woman with Aspergers who meet and fall in love (although making it work is a big challenge and I don't know if it ultimately does work cause I'm not done with the book). So I read for a while and fell back asleep, and I must say, when I am able to sleep in on a weekend, it's wonderful. Cause lately I feel like I'm just gliding through life in a foggy haze. Lack of sleep does that. Sometimes it helps when I take 2 benadryl at night, a half hour apart, but I wake up just parched when I do that.

Got up at 10 or so, David went out to get our Sunday bagels, and, well, this is what Sundays are all about. I put a pot roast in the oven that I discovered on a blog (alwaysanotherrecipe.blogspot.com/2008/11/all-day-pot-roast.html). We have a rehearsal this afternoon, and this pot roast can cook for 8 hours (I cook it a little less than what the recipe calls for), so we will come home and dinner will be done. I love that. I wish I could work that out every day.

Every winter I say I'm going to get more into crock pot cooking, and then I don't. Most of the recipes I have involve too much prep in the morning, and at 6:00 AM, I do not feel like doing much kitchen prep.

Work has been stressful and it is so nice to me to have 2 days not worrying about it. For 10 years, I was a manager, and I thought about work 24/7. It was always on my mind. No more. Weekends are for getting away from the old grind, in body AND in spirit.

Saturday Musings

2009-02-28T16:54:00.000-08:00

Did you ever feel like you were outside of life, watching it just happen? That happens to me occasionally, and today was one of those days.

I was standing in the slowest check-out line at our grocery store. The bagger walked away (this seems to always happen when I choose a line based on whether or not there is a bagger) and the cashier was gazing into space, putting one item at a time in a bag. I felt like I was watching one of those movies where everything is suddenly in slow motion; all I needed was the soundtrack that they have in Ferris Bueller's Day Off.

Then I looked at the front of the line, and the guy checking out was a dad of kids who my kids went to school with. I haven't seen him in a while, and he looked older. I was thinking about how some people soften with age while others harden. Well he was not a soft ager. His two kids were "perfect" kids - top grades, talented in everything they touched. My husband used to say wait'll those kids go off on their own - they're gonna go nuts. Anyway, for some reason one of the internet news clips that I'd just read, about a child molester, popped into my head, cause often these creepy people seem so good in real-life and everyone is shocked to find out what goes on behind closed doors, and I thought what if he is one of those?

After suffering from insomnia for a long time, i have been sleeping and dreaming a lot all week, and the dreams are totally bizarre. Maybe this molester thing was part of that. I was awake for this one, though.

Where Has Common Courtesy Gone?

2009-02-23T15:32:00.000-08:00

I've been lamenting the lack of service that you find seemingly every day and everywhere, and unfortunately, I'm finding it more and more in the company I work for. I have been at this company for over 25 years, and we were trained by the now deceased owner to always go overboard in providing service. If someone asked a question and you didn't have the answer, you were to find the answer immediately and get back to that person. And if you didn't have an answer immediately, you were to call the person back and tell them what you had done and that you would continue to search for an answer.

I was reminded of this when I emailed a co-worker today to ask if we had received any claims on a new client since there were no claims in the computer system. I needed an answer soon but the phones in the claims department are always busy, so I find it less intrusive to email. Four hours later, I got a response telling me to check with someone else in the claims department (who sits 3 feet away from the person I sent the original email to). This is the kind of thing that raises my blood pressure. If she couldn't be bothered to stand up and walk the 3 feet, or even yell over to the co-worker, she could have at least emailed the co-worker (with a copy to me) and asked her to respond. It's common sense, common courtesy, and basic service. And it's gone.

A pet peeve is when I call a company to ask a question and I am told the system is down and I need to call back "later." Well I don't know when the system will be up; wouldn't it be better to take a message (seemingly a thing of the past) and have someone call me back when the system is up?

I know with the current economy especially, more people are doing more work than they used to. It's still not an excuse to blow people off.

Another pet peeve, and I work with people to do this, is to set your voice mail msg with the following: "I'm away from my desk right now, but please leave a message and I'll get back to you at my earliest convenience." Do people not realize how rude that sounds? I'm busy, but when I feel like it, I'll get back to you....

I work for a company that handles medical claims, and we used to get calls from hospitals and doctors' offices calling to request the status of claims. I was recently very surprised to learn that many hospitals and doctors' offices have sent even this basic function to India. So we now get frequent calls from India, checking status of claims. They usually have no identifying information so we can't find who they are checking on, and the calls with India last twice as long. One of the claims examiners told me last week that one of the hospitals we work with pulled the function back from India and admitted it was a mistake to send it there.

And the lack of human beings when you need an answer is sooooooo frustrating. You are given a choice of dialing numbers 1 through 4, and you listen to each offering and still can't decide which one is appropriate. Where you would normally dial 0 to speak to a human being, that option has become all but extinct. So you waste 10 minutes and hang up in disgust.

There are so many times I need basic information from co-workers and I leave them an email or voice mail msg and they never get back to me. So now I have to follow up, and I'm busy too! And I get back to people when I say I will! And I take calls from clients who want to complain about co-workers who don't return their calls, and I am no longer a boss, so there's not much I can do other than help the person.

I think I'm rambling. It's Monday and I just hate the way half the world has lost common courtesy. I guess we need to remove the "common" now when we talk about courtesy.

My Lack of a Cleaning Gene

2009-02-07T09:12:00.000-08:00

Here's dad, flanked by my sister and brother-in-law, as he prepares to blow out his candles in a house that is temporarily clean.

On Monday night we celebrated my dad's birthday. He turned 86, on Groundhog Day. We had a nice celebration, where everyone contributed to the meal. As I get older and more tired, I have decided this is the only way to entertain. The worst part of having people over - the very worst - is the clean-up before hand. Every time I finally get the house in shape, I vow that I will never let it go again, only to find myself, at the next birthday or holiday, going through exactly the same thing.

I got an email this week from a market search firm, asking if I wanted to be part of a focus group. The topic was prescription drugs, and it was being held 5 minutes from my home. The pay was $100, for 1.5 hours of my time. I jumped at the chance and called immediately. But when the lady at the market search firm did my pre-screening, she found out that I work in the field of medical benefits, and that disqualified me. But, she did have another focus group open. This one was about cleaning products; was I interested? Sure, I said, thinking I am not the best person to evaluate cleaning products. She asked a bunch of questions, where I had to respond by choosing from very true, kind of true, not really true, and definitely not true.

One of her statements was "I am the envy of my friends for my cleaning abilities." I quickly replied "the bottom one."

Every time my mother comes over, she feels the need to offer to help me clean. I always decline. My sister got the cleaning gene. I got the slob gene. My daughter inherited my slob gene. I wonder if the next generation will also inherit the slob gene. Sometimes my husband will complain that there is so much clutter it's making him crazy. I tell him I know, but he married the wrong person if he was hoping for a neat house.

I have noticed lately that any magazine I read - Women's Day, Family Circle, and Ladies Home Journal - always seems to have an article on how to get rid of clutter. I actually read these articles. I know what I should be doing. It's just so damn boring to me. I'd rather sit on the computer or read a book. By the fact that everyone feels a need to educate us on this subject, I am glad to know I am not alone.

Well I'm gonna go find something to do now. Other than clean.

Hodge-Podge of Stuff

2009-02-01T12:43:00.003-08:00

OK, today I put a new background on my blog (I am slowly - and I won't add "but surely" - learning how to figure out this blog), so I think it's time for a new post.

This post is a hodge-podge of stuff.

First, I have to relate that something amusing came out of facebook, which I am very inept at navigating my way around. Sharon had posted some elementary school pictures and people have been "tagging" them. I used to think that meant someone had posted the pictures, but now, Sharon, a recent facebook subscriber, tells me means the that "tagging" a picture means labeling who is in it. So Sharon managed to find Jonathan, someone from our kindergarten class. They befriended each other on facebook. Then I also befriended Jonathan. I have not seen Jonathan since 2nd grade, when I left that school district, but when I viewed his facebook picture, I thought he looks EXACTLY the same as he did in kindergarten. Well yesterday I went to Trader Joe's, and as I was leaving, I saw a guy walking in. I thought to myself "OMG, I think that's Jonathan!" He looked at me with just a flicker of recognition (oh, I need to add that I have no current pix of myself on facebook). He walked past me, I stopped, and said "Jonathan?" and he turned around, and I introduced myself, and he gave me a big hug. I know facebook is a place to "play" online, but I never thought I'd actually see someone in person who I had discovered on facebook! So I got in the car and immediately called Sharon. I said "you will never guess who I just saw outside of Trader Joe's" and she amused me greatly by saying "Jonathan!" She didn't ask; she just said it. I said "how the hell did you know that?" And she laughed and said "who else would you be calling to tell me you saw?"

Last night I watched the movie Real Women Have Curves. I loved this movie. Maybe cause I could relate SO much cause the mother in the movie keeps telling her daughter she needs to lose weight. My absolutely favorite scene in the movie is when the women, working in a factory, strip down to their undies to cool off AND to compare stretch marks. The movie was only 86 minutes long, and my only complaint is that it ends kind of abruptly.

Pepper the dog has lots of sores by her belly. She had these months ago and I took her to the vet, who diagnosed "seasonal allergies." I know anyone (and anything) can develop new allergies at any time, but a 14.5 year old dog suddenly developing allergies seemed kind of weird. He put her on steroids and the sores cleared up. Pepper loves to roll around on her back (that's supposed to be the sign of a happy dog, I'm glad to hear), and when she was rolling yesterday, I went to rub her tummy and noticed all the sores. I don't believe these are seasonal allergies. I will either take her to the other vet in the practice or maybe to a new practice.

Our house is a nightmare right now in this weather. Water is dripping from half the windows and the windowsills are lined with plastic cups. And tomorrow our family is coming for dinner to celebrate my father's 86th birthday. The house doesn't really look presentable, but it's family. And so much ice attached to our garage that the automatic garage opener stopped working cause a piece of wood snapped off. David yesterday decided he would go to the hardware store to get stuff to fix the garage. He announced this when I got home yesterday and I asked him if he was crazy. I said "call the garage door guy." Years ago, a garage door guy left a leaflet in our mailbox, announcing that he used to work for a garage door company and was now on his own. We have used him twice and he's great. I put him in our address book under "G" for "garage door guy." The last time he came, David went to write him a check and said "I"m sorry, I don't remember your name; my wife put you in our address book under 'G' for 'garage door guy.'" The guys told David "tell her to put me under 'J' for 'jack of all trades.'" So David said "we can't call him; he does garage door motors." I said "no, he told you he's a jack-of-all-trades!" David finally relented and called the guy. I heard him on the phone saying "I was going to try to tackle this project myself but my wife says I'm crazy and I think she's right." THAT'S RIGHT - he said "'I THINK SHE'S RIGHT"!!!!! There is a first for everything. So Mr. garage door guy/jack-of-all-trades came out this morning and fixed the door. For $40. The best $40 we've ever spent.

We are going to a super-bowl party at Howard and Mary's tonight. I still never learned all the rules of football but I made my Mexican dip (I can't tell you how many recipes I cut out each year of food to bring to superbowl parties and I never make them) and I'm gonna go be a pig tonight and enjoy those commercials. Son Joe is delivering pizza. I hope it is a very profitable day cause he owes us $190 from his last car accident.

Snow Day

2009-01-28T07:50:00.000-08:00

I'm having my very own personal snow day!

Last night the prediction was for a ton of snow today, and I have vacation days I haven't used, and I am not a big fan of driving in the snow....and I thought maybe I'll take my own snow day. Our office NEVER closes, so any snow day has to be used as a vacation day.

So the alarm went off at 5:30, I came down and let old Pepper out, got on the school closings site, saw that almost every school was closed, and thought I'm taking this day off!. Last night I told Sharon I might take a vacation day today and we agreed that if I did, we'd meet at Jack's deli for breakfast. We both love to go out to breakfast. So while I was up at 5:30, I emailed her that I was indeed taking the day off.

And I went back to bed, setting my alarm for 7:30 so that I could call in to the office. After that, I fell back asleep. How glorious.

Sharon called at 9:30. I said so...are we doing breakfast? She said no, it's too bad out there. And I reluctantly agreed. A few years ago when I took a vacation day on a day like this, the two of us did meet for breakfast. The roads were bad, we were the only ones on the road, and when we got there we laughed at what idiots we were, and then had a nice breakfast.

A few weeks ago when schools were closed because of snow, the pizza place where son Joe works called him at lunchtime and said they were slammed with delivery requests and could he deliver for a while. I thought about it later on and realized all these kids are home all day with nothing to do, and I can see them (or their parents) saying oh, we're not going out, but you can order a pizza if you want. So I'm guessing pizza sales increase greatly on snow days. Especially delivery pizzas.

So I'm here in my sweats, with my coffee, and it's almost 11:00, and I should be reveling in my freedom, but strangely, I'm thinking ok, what now? Could I have cabin fever after only a few hours of being home? I don't remember many snow days when I was a kid - they seem to have a lot more these days, but I remember the fun of going outside in the snow, sledding, coming in for hot chocolate, going out again...

I have a million things I could be doing here but I am not motivated. Maybe I'll go back to bed.

Sweet Sunday

2009-01-25T05:27:00.000-08:00

I got up early today - the 2nd day in a row. Since my damn alarm goes off at 5:30 AM Monday thru Friday, I so look forward to sleeping in on the weekends. But my body has been aching a lot lately and I've decided it's better for my body to be up doing stuff rather than getting more stiff by lying in bed.

And for some reason, the song "Sunday Sweet Sunday" just popped in to my head. My father, who will be 85 next week, used to sing it all the time. I know it was a love song ("Sunday, sweet Sunday, with nothing to do...Lazy and lovely, my one day with you...") - but I just prefer the lazy and lovely part (not that I don't want to spend my Sundays with David, but lazy and lovely is just very appealing to me).

As a kid, I don't think I fully appreciated what a Sunday could offer. I thought of Sundays as kind of a boring day. Of course in those days, nothing was open on a Sunday, so it probably was boring for a kid.

Now that I am middle aged, but often feel quite old, I take great joy in the laziness of a Sunday. We have kind of a tradition where David goes out and gets hot bagels. There is NOTHING like a hot bagel and coffee on a Sunday morning, settling down to read a Sunday paper.

It's a little off topic, but I will always remember one weekend morning many years ago when my son Joe was a toddler. I was in a bad mood, it was a gray and rainy day, and I made both of us some rye bread toast. I went up to my room to eat mine in solitude. He came upstairs, stood at my bedside with his toast, and announced quite happily "it's nice to eat rye toast on a rainy day." And my heart melted for this little kid who could find joy in such a simple thing.

Maybe it wasn't off-topic. Sunday is a day to find joy in the simple things. I just put up a pot with ham hocks to boil, and I will add split green peas, onion, barley and carrots. Sunday is the day I try to cook something that will cook all day, so that I'm not scrambling at the last minute to put dinner on the table. It is a slow, peaceful day.

I like to read the paper slowly, maybe catch up on magazines, cut out coupons, read my favorite blogs, and read the emails I don't have time for during the week (like the NY Times that comes daily via email). It's not a day to zoom through my tasks so that I can drive off to work. Everything is just in slow motion. I guess these days slow motion is very appealing.

So I'm off to enjoy this Sunday, sweet Sunday. I know I will find things to do, but it's nice that I don't have to do any of them.

And that soup is starting to smell delicious.

On Facebook

2009-01-18T15:39:00.000-08:00

That's me, in the red top in this picture that an old high school friend just posted on facebook.

I decided to join facebook last year. I'm not quite sure why, but it seemed like there might be some interesting stuff on there.

So I joined, and a stranger asked me to be his friend. A good-looking stranger, I might add. Well, I went to college in Toronto and he lived in Toronto, so maybe we weren't completely strangers (although we probably were), but I said ok. My first friend! Then I asked Donna from work to be my friend, and I had 2 friends. Gradually my friends list started to increase, although the numbers didn't approach what my kids have. But honestly, I have started to suspect that the kids just look for quantity, rather than quality, in their friends.

I honestly have no idea how to navigate around facebook, and I don't really have the time or desire to explore it; I just wait for people to befriend me.

Suddenly a few weeks ago an old high school friend asked if I would be his friend. I accepted, and I got on his account and found other high school friends. So the last week has kind of been a frenzy of getting back in touch with people from junior high and high school. I was very good friends with one girl in junior high and she found me (first asking if that is really me, cause my picture is a monkey; something that I'd rather display than the real thing). We then started emailing each other, catching up on 30+ years of what's happened to us.

Incidentally, it's kind of interesting to sum up 30 years of your life. When you are in touch with someone daily, the topics are basically how was the drive to work, what are you making for dinner, listen to what so-and-so did to me, etc. Being in touch after 30+ years is much more complex, and it's almost like you have nothing of note to say!

One of the high school people I found (and befriended) is now an exec at the food channel. My cousin-in-law loves him, so I got them in touch with each other. My cousin-in-law had shared with me that she has a list of guests she would invite to her "dream dinner party" and my high school friend (along with Bob Newhart and some others) is one of them. So she got to tell him in an email herself that he was so honored. He sent a nice email back.

Another high school friend must be very into scanning pictures, cause suddenly old high school pictures are popping up on facebook. I can't believe I was ever that young and carefree. I know I will never be young again, but I'd settle for carefree.

I purposely did not ask my son or daughter if they would be my friend. I recognize they have a life with their friends and they don't want me in it. But funny enough, several of their friends asked if I would be their friend. So I am cool with the friends but not with the flesh and blood.

A few days ago, my nephew decided to un-befriend me. He sent an email to all of the "older" relatives, telling us very nicely that he loved us, but no longer wanted us on his facebook; he was reserving this for friends. Wow, to face such rejection at age 51! My first facebook rejection! But alas, those of us who were rejected have formed our own group of fellow-relatives-rejected-by-the-nephew (not its official name, but it's official purpose).

The Co-Ed Bathrooms at York University

2009-01-13T06:43:00.000-08:00

I had decided to go to Canada for college, and I chose York University in Toronto.

So one fine August day, my parents drove me up there, and we loaded all my stuff in my large dorm room. Then my father said he was gonna look for a restroom and I said me too. It was a square hallway. So my father walked around and found a sign that said "Men" and I walked around and found a sign that said "Women." He walked in his door, I walked in my door, and we met in the middle. We immediately went back out our doors to make sure we had read our signs right. We had. It was a co-ed bathroom (although I never did understand why they didn't just label it that way."

Well my dad was surprised, but not outraged. I was amused. I was just so happy to be starting in on this new phase of my life that really nothing could bother me. And I had purposely chosen a co-ed floor. We walked back to the dorm room and my father said to my mother "Lenore, the bathrooms are co-ed!" "No!" she exclaimed. I smiled.

When I tell people about it today, they ask how I could stand having a co-ed bathroom - wouldn't it be weird? Well in my youth, it wasn't.

A few days after I arrived, I walked into the bathroom and there was a guy washing his hair in the sink. "Hello!" he yelled when he saw me through the mirror. "Hello!" I replied back to this shampoo filled head. "My name's Leigh," he said. I told him my name was Bonnie. That night there was a dance in our dorm. I was sitting there with my new friends and a gorgeous guy walked in. We were all murmuring about his good looks when he surprised all of us by saying "Hi Bonnie." I said "hi" in an uncertain tone, having no idea who this Greek God was. He realized I didn't recognize him and said "it's Leigh!" I said "oh!" I hadn't seen him upright yet! What a treat!

The bathroom had two showers with a wall between them that was about 5.5 feet tall. Well there was a guy on our floor named Garth, a very tall professional student. A few times I would find myself taking a shower next to tall Garth. He could see my bright yellow robe hanging and he would yell over 'Hi Bonnie!" and I would think "oh no, I'm taking a shower next to tall Garth, and with his height, he only has to look over and here I am in my naked glory." So I would converse with him as we showered, thinking it would stop him from looking over. I think it worked; I'll never know.

I was on the 13th floor of the dorm, and people on our floor befriended the people on the 14th floor. We were always going up and down those stairs. There was a guy on the 14th floor named Louis. Louis, like many students at York, was from Hong Kong. When the students from Hong Kong came to Canada, they took on American names. But, we American and Canadian citizens decided, someone over in Hong Kong must have had a very old book of names, because the names they took were from another generation - Louis, Arthur... And they never used the condensed version of the names - it was always the full name. Anyway, Louis was renowned for brushing his teeth for 10 minutes at a stretch. So you might go in to take a shower, and Louis would be there brushing his teeth. You'd get out of the shower, and yeah, there was Louis, still brushing his teeth. I still think about Louis and what amazing teeth he must have today.

Those who lived on the same sex floors were used to looking good all the time - they'd look like hell as they shuffled into the bathrooms in the morning and would emerge looking great. Those of us on the co-ed floors were used to seeing what we all really looked like, and it didn't matter. It somehow seemed symbolic in our friendships - we had nothing to hide.

A View of Our Deck on 1/10/09

2009-01-10T13:22:00.001-08:00

Miss Heather Grace Krauss

2009-01-08T14:27:00.000-08:00

Here is my daughter Heather, pictured on New Year's Eve (next to my $8.50 x-mas tree I got from Flower Factory, and yes, I know it looks very Charlie Brownish).

In the TV shows I used to watch when my kids were toddlers, one of the songs went something like "one of these things is not like the other..." and you had to guess what it was.

Well if you looked at our family, I guess you'd have to say Heather is not like the others.

For one thing, she's thin. She was home for winter break and kept a diary of everything she ate. What she ate was mostly low fat soup and no-fat cheese. Who eats no-fat cheese? No one in our house, except Heather! It took me twice as long to buy food at the grocery store when she was home as I had to look for things I never bought for the rest of our family (and never will again). The no fat milk got tossed as soon as Heather went back to school.

When Heather was in high school, she was captain of the varsity girls' basketball team. When I was in high school, they had intramural teams, and 5 of us friends who were equally inept formed a team. I am kind of embarrassed to admit that we had a record of straight losses. Never won a game. And actually never even expected to win a game!

Heather is artistic. She can draw beautifully. She did not inherit that talent from me, but probably from my mother.

Heather has these small graceful fingers. David and Joe have the biggest hands I've ever seen in my life.

I think of myself as being a logical person. I don't know that you could say the same about Heather. She's kind of out there sometimes. I very much look forward to seeing her finish college, start a career, and navigate the basic skills of living - getting her own place, washing her own dishes and clothes. Especially washing her own dishes! I can't wait to see that.

I recognize that sameness can be boring, so it is kind of fun watching this person who didn't seem to inherit much from us, other than her dislike of housework, her sense of humor (and her wonderful laugh). That is one of the reasons I am so happy to see Heather in our family, with all her differences.

(By the way, is anyone out there looking for a cute summer intern who is majoring in business?)

Patty's Portrait of Pepper

2009-01-08T13:49:00.000-08:00

For Christmas, my sister-in-law Patty gave me this amazing portrait of my lovely dog Pepper that she painted. I am so impressed!

Joe and Josie

2009-01-06T16:24:00.001-08:00

A picture of Joe on New Year's Eve, holding a doll someone made of David after he won a chili cook-off.

My son Joe is a very funny kid. He was hell to raise, but he has a natural sense of humor. And often I'll share things he's said or done with my co-workers. I assume they will listen and forget, as I tend to do with most things. But often they will tell me how they laughed about something I had told them a long time ago that stuck with them.

That happened yesterday at work. Donna in the office next door told me her favorite story was the account of Joe's visit to the doctor. Two years ago, at age 17, we decided that a 200+ lb 17 year old did not belong in the pediatrician's office with all the babies. So he graduated to our internist. I went with him, and we were both sitting in the waiting room, when the nurse came out and announced "Josie Cross." Well, Joe's name is "Joe Krauss" and we assumed that the nurse had slaughtered his name, as people tend to do. So he rolled his eyes and got up to follow the nurse. As this happened, a woman in the waiting room also got up to follow the nurse. It all happened too fast for me to yell to Joe that this woman's name was probably Josie Cross and that she was being called to the waiting room. So here these two strangers started to follow the nurse back into the where the offices are. And I sat there all by myself, laughing at this sight. I could just imagine the nurse thinking that they were together and leaving them in the office together. Well as they set off down the hall, another nurse came out and announced "Joseph Krauss." Fortunately, Joe had not gone too far off into the maze of offices, and he heard her and reappeared, with a very red face. I also had a very red face, because I could not stop laughing, thinking of all the scenarios in my imagination.

Grandma Helen and Grandpa Sid

2009-01-05T17:06:00.000-08:00

I recently found a frame for an old picture of Grandma Helen and Grandpa Sid, and as I framed it, I started reminiscing...

Helen and Sid were my mother's parents. Sid owned his own drug store in the days when people lived and shopped in Cleveland (as opposed to the suburbs of Cleveland). What did that mean to us 7 grandchildren? CANDY! Maybe that's how I became the Candy Queen! Every time we went for dinner at Grandma and Grandpa's, we would open the drawer at the bottom of their oven, where Grandma stored every bag they had ever received. And we could fill our bag with candy. Provided, of course, that we finished our dinner. Maybe this is where my weight issues started.

Grandma was a wonderful cook. She made these wonderful Hungarian Nutballs, and Kraut Halushken (cabbage with noodles). She sang in the Cleveland Orchestra Chorus and she befriended conductors and singers who performed in the Pops concerts. As a matter of fact, I was named after one of those singers, Bonnie Murray, and she would always spend time with us when she was in Cleveland. (And we continued to exchange Christmas cards until her death last year.)

Grandma was also really good with flowers, and I remember her marigolds.

In my younger days, my parents would go out on Saturday nights, and Grandma and Grandpa were my baby sitters. Ah yes, I can remember many a Saturday night spent watching Lawrence Welk on TV. I do remember one night, which I have never told anyone about, when I was supposed to be in bed. Something made me want to know what was going on downstairs. I snuck partway down the stairs and apparently Grandma was having chest pain. She did not want to seek medical treatment. So Grandpa just sat there holding her hand, telling her it was going to be ok.

Family dinners at Grandma and Grandpa's, with our aunt and uncle and cousins, were always a wonderful time. After cooking for 13 people, Grandma and Grandpa would clean up while we had fun; Grandma would wash and Grandpa would dry.

If you visited Grandma and Grandpa and it wasn't dinnertime, you would likely be offered cold Vernors ginger ale, with an assortment of cookies in a canister on top of the refrigerator. Their house was a very comfortable house, and I often drive by it, wondering what it looks like now.

Grandma got sick with breast cancer and ended up in a nursing home. Grandpa went to visit her every day. After she died, he continued to work at drugstores as a pharmacist, well into his late 80s, as well as helping our family out. Friday was cleaning day. I remember him coming to help my mom vacuum and do whatever else was needed in the house, including walking Goldie our wonderful dog.

Grandpa's son, my Uncle Buddy, died a few years after Grandma and I can't imagine what it was like for him to bury a son.

I remember Grandpa's beloved cigar. In his later years, he moved in with my parents, who did not want the cigar smell in their house. Sometimes we'd drive up to my parents' house, and there was Grandpa, sitting on the front porch in the dead of winter, bundled up in his hat and coat, smoking his cigar.

One time I came in town for my brother's wedding. I came with my old boyfriend, Larry. When it was time to leave, Larry and I were going to drive Grandpa home. Larry pulled out a cigarette and offered one to Grandpa. To my extreme surprise, he said "oh yeah, I'll have one of those. I haven't had one of those in years...." And I sat there dying, waiting for my very anti-smoking parents to discover grandpa smoking a cigarette (they never did, but the memory still makes me smile).

When I went away to college, Grandpa would send me a little check for "coke money" as he called it. One spring, my parents came to bring me home from college in Toronto. They brought Grandpa with them. That car was so jammed with stuff that when we went through customs, the customs guy never even saw him. He asked my parents and I questions, but skipped Grandpa, who was buried in all my belongings.

Grandpa worked hard all his life. He never complained and always went about his business in a low key manner. He was 88 when he died. I wish my husband and kids could have known him.

Missy and Milo

2009-01-04T19:52:00.001-08:00

About eight years ago, we lost our cat Rocky. Literally. I opened the door, she got out, and we were never able to find her. Well, if you read my post about Pepper the dog, you'll know that all of my animals seem to come with baggage. We had gotten Rocky shortly after one of our cats died and we saw an ad in the paper. We went to this old lady's house who lived about 20 minutes away. She loved Rocky but her husband was allergic. We took Rocky home with us. Anyway, we lost her, and I put an ad in the paper with our phone number. I got calls from several well-meaning souls, who told me to call the police and to check with the Animal Protective League (APL) on a daily basis. Then I got the dreaded call from the old lady saying "you didn't lose our cat, did you?" Like I didn't feel bad enough.

So it was time to look for a new one or two. My sister-in-law Mary told us about this lady she knew who wanted to give away a kitten. I called the lady, and she gave me her address, and I set out to meet her, with Heather and Joe in tow, at the appointed time. She lived in an apartment, and when we got to the parking lot, a large lady wearing a mumu and what those of us who were brought up knowing a few Yiddish words would call a schmata on her head. Yeah, she was kinda weird looking. She invited us into her apartment and we all sat down and she brought the kitten in. It wasn't an especially friendly kitten and I began to wonder what is the etiquette in a situation like this - you say thanks but no thanks? We didn't even know if she would offer to give us the kitten, but if she didn't, we didn't really want it. Well that part of the visit wasn't bad enough, but then she asked us if we wanted to see her birds. We said ok, thinking we'd find a couple of birds in a cage. Wrong. She brings us into the extra bedroom, where there were many birds flying through the room! We had to duck our heads to avoid being hit by the birds! By this time, all 3 of us just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. So I said we needed to get going, and that we were going to think about that kitten of hers.

We fled to our car, where I said "we are going to the APL today." Both kids quickly agreed (and my kids never agree with my proclamations). So we came home and collected David and headed down to the APL.

We already had a cat at home, but I told David I had heard that the best way to bring a kitten into a strange home is to get 2 kittens together. He did not like that idea. But if you've ever been to the APL, where you can take each pet out of its cage and try it out, you'll know it's hard to come home with only one. Twice in one day, my kids were in agreement with me that we needed two kittens. David finally (reluctantly) agreed.

As we stood in line to buy our new kittens, which Heather named Missy and Milo, there was a dad and his son behind us. The dad was on his cell phone trying to convince his wife that they, too, needed two kittens. The wife didn't buy it, and they were permitted to bring home only one.

So that's how Missy and Milo arrived. And we later discovered that they (like most cats) have an "M" on their foreheads. And they are two of the sweetest creatures I've ever known.

Ya Just Never Know

2009-01-04T12:18:00.000-08:00

I just went to Giant Eagle, my local grocery store. I knew I was in trouble when I couldn't find a place to park. I walked in, and the lines were way too long. That's ok, I figured, they will be down some by the time I check out. Wrong. The lines were so bad that you couldn't get past anyone to get in another line. So I got in the first line. It was not moving. It was annoying. I realized I was in annoyed mode - you know when everything and everyone in the world annoys you! (The day started with Heather slowly getting ready to go back to college today, way past the time she and David were supposed to leave...and I'm one of those pack-the-car-the-night-before-and-leave-early-in-the-morning kinds of people). I knew David had a long day in front of him - 4 hours there, 4 hours back, and I always worry that he'll fall asleep. I know I would.

But I digress. I finally got a view of the cashier. He was carrying on a conversation with the bagger-girl. He was scanning as he talked, but he definitely could have moved faster. As each new customer came up, he would ask "and how are you today?" Well, I was damned annoyed! And I thought well how should I respond? "Well, I'm running late"......"Well I'm tired of standing in line..." So meek old me gets up there and he asks how I am today and I smiled and said "fine, how are you?" And he looked at me and he said "I remember you - the last time you were in here, you were very nice to me, and I always remember the people who are nice to me." And I stood there feeling very humbled. And glad that I had not used one of the responses I had planned. I mean, really, maybe seconds would have been saved if he had been a little faster, but not much more than that.

And I started to think to myself "ya just never know...."

Many years ago, we had a client that was known for being very very demanding. And not just demanding, but unreasonable. She asked me to send her something, and I did. Well, she lost it, and she called my boss, telling him she had asked me for something and I had not sent it. Well my record-keeping is pretty good - it's like I anticipate someone accusing me of something, so I always have the back-up. And I showed it to my boss. And he called her and told her the date I had sent it to her. She then went looking for it, and what do you know, she found it. She never apologized; she just told him she had stuck it in her office and forgot about it. Many years later, I was asked to serve on a non-profit board. I looked at the letterhead, and yeah, you guessed it - the "demanding unreasonable one" also served on the board. And I almost declined, just because I couldn't stand being in the same room with this woman. But I thought she should not stop me from this, and I joined. At the first meeting I attended, she came up to me and greeted me like a long lost best friend. I do forgive, but I don't forget, and when I think of this woman, the number one memory will be that call she made to my boss.

I did learn a lesson from that, and that was always to approach the person I felt had neglected me before going higher up, because it could have been a misunderstanding (worse yet, it could have been my own fault).

In December, our local paper had an article with gift suggestions. It included a site where you could order THE BEST CANDY. Annesdecadentdelights.com. I'll include a portion of the "about us" part: "Decadent Delights started in 2007 on a dream of a stay-at-home mom looking for a career that would fit around her busy family lifestyle. Decadent Delights has grown from a love of chocolate almond toffee crunch (homemade recipe) to a true marketing company geared for every holiday, special occasion, and corporate event." This blog allowed you to order 2 free samples, if you just paid for shipping. But what caught my eye was a quote that was in both the local paper and in the website, saying that this candy was "like a Heath Bar on steroids." Well I didn't need more of a push than that! So I ordered my free sample, which cost me $4.80 in shipping and handling. A week later, the most amazing 4 pieces of candy that I have ever eaten (you have to be a Heath bar fan) arrived. I was so impressed, I emailed the owner and told her it was the best candy I'd ever eaten. She emailed me back and thanked me and asked me she could quote me on her website (in my email I had referred to myself as the Candy Queen). She would send me a $10 gift certificate for my words. Well, I didn't have to think twice about that one. I really was just trying to recognize the quality of her product, and I prefer to deal with a stay-at-home-mom entrepreneur anyway.

A $10 gift certificate for my favorite candy in the world!

Yeah, ya just never know.

2008-12-31T16:40:00.001-08:00

Ellen and Her Mom

2008-12-30T17:38:00.000-08:00

Ellen and I met when we both worked in the offices of New England Life back in 1978. It was my first job out of college and I never felt like I fit in with the other girls in the office. Then Ellen arrived, we discovered we shared the same birthday, we enjoyed each other's company, and we started to hang out. She was my one friend in an office of male salesmen and their female secretaries.

Ellen and her husband Frank had moved to Cleveland from Boston. A few years after they moved here, Ellen's father got sick and Ellen gave birth to her daughter Bonnie. Ellen and Frank then returned to Boston.

We kept in touch with each other twice a year - sending each other a birthday card in July and a holiday card in December. Ellen had given birth to a son, Lee, and Frank had started his own business, which was doing very well. We were having some rough times with my own family, and I must admit there were times when I would get Ellen's bi-annual card and just stare at it, thinking I didn't want to open it to hear how wonderful everything was in her life.

I'd like to say it was a few years ago, but time flies, and I'm thinking it was 8 or 9 years ago when I got an email from Ellen out of the blue. I don't even know how she found me, but we began a very dedicated email relationship. Friendships change when you go from twice a year cards summing up the year to several emails a day (so what are you making for dinner tonight?...what's your weather like today?). I began to call her Betty Crocker for the healthy meals she prepared every night (always with a salad and every part of the food pyramid). We began to really know each other. One time a few years ago, Ellen's computer was down and she had Frank email me from work to let me know she wouldn't be on the computer. Frank could not figure out how we could rely on email so much ("why don't you just talk on the phone?"). I laughed at that. Cause anyone who understands the beauty of email knows it's totally at your own convenience. You can thoughtfully take your time about what you say, or you can quickly type an email full of typos and no one cares, but it's like getting mail 5 times a day. It's wonderful.

Seven years ago, Ellen's mother had a stroke. Up until that time, her mother had been living a very active life, in her 90s, at the assisted living facility where she lived. The stroke was disabling, and she had to move into a nursing home. And thus began Ellen's journey of helping to take care of her mother. After some not-so-nice treatment by a nursing home aide, Ellen was determined to spend as much time with her mother as possible. And so she went every day, for 7 days a week until she finally reduced her visits to 5 days a week. Ellen's sister was of no help whatsoever, so Ellen was on her own. I know it was very difficult, especially as her mother began to lose her interest in life and just wanted to sleep. Many times over the years there would be a setback, and Ellen would fear it was the end. With both of her kids away at college, she was resigned to deal with the end on her own, with Frank.

Last month, Ellen was visiting her mother at the nursing home and she tripped over a nursing cord. She broke her shoulder in 4 places and has been pretty much incapacitated. She had a shoulder replacement surgery. Driving was out of the question, and even being a passenger in a car was painful.

So our emails were suspended. And I missed them so much. Well Ellen finally arrived back on email last week. And I came in to work this morning with my usual email from Ellen. She would usually email me very early in the morning, before she went to see her mother. And since she's been out of commission, she's not sleeping so I guess she's up early in the morning. The first email told me about the call she got from the nursing home this morning, saying that her mother had taken a turn for the worse. The second email sent 40 minutes later, was to tell me that her mother had passed away.

Ellen's daughter graduated from law school in the spring and is working, much to Ellen's delight, as an attorney in Boston (taking after Ellen's father). Her son just got his master's degree a few weeks ago and he was taking a slow ride back to Boston, visiting friends along the way. He was set to arrive in Boston at the end of this week, but when he got the call today, he came right home. I am glad the family is all together.

Ellen had been expecting this for many years but said it was still so shocking when it happened. She had made a promise to her father when he was sick that she would take care of her mother. Her mother would have turned 100 in 3 weeks (she refused a party - when Ellen suggested one, her mother replied that she wouldn't be there). Ellen kept this promise to an extreme. I have never seen such devotion of a daughter for her mother. As her mother declined physically and mentally, it became more taxing to spend every day there, but it never stopped Ellen. Very occasionally, she would take a "vacation" day just to have some time to herself. But really, it was 7 years of giving her life to her mother. I am so impressed with her strength and the extent to which she honored her father's wishes.

Before-The-Holidays-Out-of-Controlness

2008-12-24T14:50:00.001-08:00

Well if I were like every other blogger, right about now I would be wishing all of you a happy and healthy holiday.

However, I sense that I am a bit more out of control than most of you out there.

Last year I decided to be really organized and put all my Christmas clothes in a box. Then they wouldn't take up valuable space in my closet. So I did that, and threw in Christmas towels, some wrapping paper, and miscellaneous things that were just sitting around after the holiday. And then I couldn't find the damn thing. I looked in the big walk-in closet we have upstairs, and discovered I couldn't walk in there. Heather, who is now 20, so I can't call her a teen, decided to stash all her belongings in that closet. Included in her stash, I discovered, was one bag filled with old bags.

Next I checked the attic. Same thing there. Everything is thrown in there. My favorite is the select comfort bed David HAD to have years ago. He really liked the idea of each of us being able to pick our own comfort zone. Well, the comfort was unsatisfactory after a while, as the bed started to sag in the middle. He realized that the plastic had warped. Now this was not a cheap bed, and he was angry about it. So he took pictures and threw everything in the attic, planning to write to the manufacturer and show his discontent. That was about 2 years ago. Since then, we have bought a regular, really comfortable bed. And there are all these selective bed parts taking up valuable attic space. Anyway, no box of clothes was found in the attic.

Finally the basement. David proudly organized the basement a few years ago, and when I wanted to store something down there last year, told me I wasn't permitted, cause it was too organized.

Anyway, I have not been wearing my Christmas clothes. And tonight, on Christmas eve, I discovered my box of Christmas clothes. Where? Why in my bedroom, below some other boxes of stuff.

We are having the family over for Christmas tomorrow and as usual, the house is a huge mess and we needed to shop. I HATE cleaning, but instead of using this bonus day off to clean, I decided to be the laziest I have ever been. I came downstairs this morning in my PJs, expecting to take a morning shower and then go out. Well the PJs stayed on, and I decided to take a nap with the cats in our bed. I love that and rarely get to do that. I was so lazy that Heather was up and ready to go out while I was lying in my PJs. I finally got up, and turned on some channel that had Dr 90210. I have never watched this show. All these women who are very into themselves electing to have plastic surgery, when they really look fine to me. Well I am now addicted to this show. It went on for 2 hours and I sat on that couch, still showerless and in my PJs, totally fascinated by this life. The most interesting was the relationship between one of the plastic surgeons and his wife, who was raised with money. She wanted to buy a 10,000 sq foot house (they were living in a 9,000 sq foot house). He said isn't this a democracy? She said no, you're never home. He said yeah, you're right, it's cause I'm an ATM machine for you. I was riveted. He then sat down with her a few days later and said that things needed to change, and that they needed to "get back to basics." "What do you mean," she asked, "are you saying you're going to leave me?" And he explains that he wants to go visit his adoptive family in Utah. His father in S. America had given him up and this Utah family adopted him and he wanted to see them. So the doctor and his wife and 2 young kids get on a plane to see his family in Utah. Then we learn that he hasn't seen this family in 30 years!!! He wants them to help him be a better husband and dad, and they were the only people who gave him love. But he hasn't seen them in 30 years!!! It is understandable how I was riveted. They get to Utah, and we meet the elderly parents, and he asks his wise old mom how he can learn to trust people, given that he was abandoned by his dad. "Love," she says "is the answer." And I'm thinking he couldn't have called her on the phone with this question?

Anyway, that's how my day went. Nowhere! David could see that my day was going nowhere and volunteered to do the grocery shopping. He got home from the grocery store and discovered 2 big blocks of cheese that he didn't buy (except upon further investigation, discovered he did pay for them). He said oh, someone's gonna be mad. Someone's gonna have a cheeseless Christmas! And that got me laughing.

Then I went to put a gift in our pile of gifts and saw one of the packages David made for his sister Mary. While going thru old pictures (we are giving his sisters Patty and Mary photo albums filled with old pix), he discovered Mary's old dental x-rays, from like 40 years ago, and he wrapped them up to give to her. And that also got me laughing.

I guess we need to celebrate our out-of-controlness.

So to the 3 or so of you who read my blog, I do wish you a happy holiday and a sense of humor to deal with the ridiculous stuff in life.

The Dreaded Doctor's Scale

2008-12-23T15:25:00.000-08:00

If I can think of one thing that almost everyone universally hates, it's got to be the scale in a doctor's office.

Many years ago, I had an OB GYN who weighed about 90 lbs. Every year when I went to see her, she would weigh me and say "you gotta take that weight off." So I had this major anxiety attack every time I went in to see her, til I solved the problem: I stopped going. Then one day Sharon told me that her GYN didn't require you to be weighed. So I immediately switched to him. I came for my first visit, and his wife, the nurse, asked if I "wanted" to be weighed. "No thank you," I politely responded. And that was it! The new GYN happened to be an adorable man, but throw in their philosophy of not requiring a weigh-in, and I was as happy as a clam. The next year I went for my visit, the wife asked if I would like to step on the scale. "No thanks" I again replied. I then further said that I liked it that I was not REQUIRED to get on the scale. And she told me all services in a doctor's office are optional, and you can refuse any service. Wow, I thought, I wish I had known this many years ago.

Well that philosophy is apparently not shared by all doctors, including my internal medicine (IM) guy. At my first visit to Dr IM, an assistant led me down the hall to a scale. "Oh, I don't want to be weighed," I told her. She said "you must. It's a requirement." So I got on the damn scale. And stopped trying to argue with Dr IM's office.

At my last visit, Dr IM, who has a much nicer demeanor than the cold 90 lb GYN, told me how many pounds he'd like me to lose by my next visit. Of course, I GAINED weight this time. I was not looking forward to today's visit, til a brainstorm hit me.

I was making cookies for the holidays and wham, I thought, hey I'll use these as a bribe! So I refrigerated the dough and baked some fresh cookies this morning. I put them in a nice "Happy Chanukah" bag and brought them with me to the doctor's office. I was again led down the hall to a scale, got on, and said "oh gee, this isn't good." I was then led to a room. Dr IM walked in and I held up the bag. "This bag of freshly baked cookies is yours if you promise not to comment on my weight today," I said. "DEAL!" he replied.

Being quite happy with myself, I called Sharon, who shares the same doctor, and told her my story. "I'm gonna try that!" she said.

So now I'm envisioning this doctor getting fatter and fatter each time we go to see him.

Malleys' Heaven

2008-12-21T10:34:00.001-08:00

I went to my favorite chocolate store yesterday - Malleys Chocolates. I was going to get a few gifts. As I was shopping, I heard a customer ask a sales associate where the "Heaven" was. She said "we're all out, I think." He said "you can't be out - we came in just to buy Heaven. We were going to bring it to my mother." The saleslady said she would ask her associate, who I will call "Ethel." Ethel is a sweet old lady who has been working there forever. So the saleslady approached Ethel and asked about the Heaven, and Ethel shook her head and said "sold out." The customer was quite upset. So she told him she had put aside a box for herself and she would let him have it. He said oh, that's ok, and she insisted. So the customer yelled over to his wife "Honey, this nice lady wants to sell us her personal box!" And his wife said "no, we can't do that." And Ethel said "I insist. I don't need it. I"m a walking advertisement for Malleys." And in case you wonder, no, she wasn't fat. The wife responded "I don't care - we cannot take your personal box." So they argued back and forth. Meanwhile, the lady waiting on me as I paid for my purchases shook her head and said "It's bad. They advertised this product like crazy and we ran out." And I said "well I guess that's good, cause business is good for you" and she said "no, it's bad. Everyone is coming in here to buy it and they are all disappointed that we've run out."

Well after recounting this cute story, I regret to tell you that I left the store without finding out the ending. And that's not like me. I always have to know the ending. But I had other shopping to do. I just thought it was a very sweet gesture, and the ending almost doesn't even matter.

The Cast Away Christmas

2008-12-20T17:52:00.001-08:00

With the holidays approaching, I got to thinking about past holidays. We spend Christmas eve and Christmas day with David's family and it's always a good time.

Eight years ago, I was a frazzled mom. Things were not going well on the parenting front. We were expecting the family for Christmas eve and the house was pretty much ready and the food was done. The kids then started to fight with each other, and in the process, they broke a beautiful pottery dish I had bought at an art show. That was the final straw for me that day. With our company set to arrive any minute, I knew I couldn't handle another minute of this family life. So I got in my car (in the middle of a heavy snowfall) and just set out to drive. I had no idea where I would go, but for some reason, being in my car felt like the only place I could be and not lose my mind.

I thought about driving to a park and getting out and sitting on the ground, with the hope that I would freeze to death and end this pain. But I couldn't do that. So I decided to go to a movie theater, even though there were no movies I was burning to see. I drove to the theater, parked my car, walked in and got in line behind every other individual who didn't celebrate Christmas. It was the first time I had ever gone to a movie by myself. The movie was Cast Away. I settled down in my seat, wondered if I should call my husband to let him know where I was, and decided I just needed space from everyone in my family.

I was able to get very involved in the movie, which was a good thing. The movie ended and I drove home, much more at peace with myself. I came inside and the family was all gathered around and there was a fire in the fireplace. No one knew what to make of me and if I recall correctly, very little was said about my absence. I just joined them all as if my absence was nothing to be questioned.

For some unknown reason, I kept the broken plate. I had meant to try to glue it together, but I never did. So whenever I am getting something out of the china cabinet, I see that plate and it's a reminder of that night. I can't bring myself to get rid of that plate. I'm not sure why...

Sweet Old Pix

2008-12-12T16:40:00.000-08:00

Hubby David found a bunch of old pix and he made my day by emailing "David and Santa" to me at work. Isn't he sweet?

And then I came home and found David and Cousin Deet (aka Jeanie of the Marmalde Gypsy) when they were very young. Doesn't Deet look like a china doll?

Ode to China Gate

2008-12-02T16:15:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago I was driving past Cedar Center. The whole north side is closed now, for a new development that is probably being postponed due to the economy. It looked very sad and desolate. At the end of the center was a now-closed China Gate and seeing that brought back a lot of memories.

I remember going there as a kid with my family. We didn't eat out much, and it was always a treat to go there. I especially remember the serving pieces - stainless steel pieces with a dome lid. All the food would arrive with lidded platters and the waiter would remove the lids with a flourish. And that was exciting. The anticipation of the wonderful flavors that we would soon be tasting - subgum chow mein, fried rice, tiny spare ribs, eggrolls...

As you entered the restaurant, you were greeted by a sign that said "Good Lunch! Wonderful Dinner!" Which made me smile. And the same smiling oriental man would greet you each time you came. Thinking back now - well I think he was a man who didn't age cause I went there for a span of 40 years!

As I grew up and got my own place, I would continue to go to China Gate with friends. By this time, there were newer, more trendy chinese restaurants around, and China Gate was starting to get a reputation as being dirty. But I loved it. The food was consistently good and I didn't see any dirt. It was like home - things didn't change much and the food was consistent.

I remember one night when I was living on my own and several of us were getting together to go to China Gate. Everyone was at my place and we were ready to leave. The phone rang, and it was my old boyfriend Larry. Larry and I were together for about 4 years, in Toronto. I moved back to Cleveland, and we continued to drive to each other's places for weekend visits. I think both of us knew this was not a relationship that was destined for marriage, but - well kind of like China Gate - it was old and comfortable. One day Larry called me and asked if I would move to Calgary with him. He was working for Arthur Andersen and he was being transferred there, and I said no. I was not ready to make that big step. But I figured we'd continue to be involved, even though we were seeing each other less and less. So that night, as we were on our way out the door to go to China Gate, I took the call and told the others to go ahead without me and I would meet them there. They left, and I sat down for a conversation with Larry. I asked what he was up to, and he told me he was married. Married! This was totally unexpected! So we talked for a little bit and said goodbye and I sat there with this big lump in my throat. All I really wanted to do was go to bed and let myself be depressed. But I had friends waiting for me at China Gate! So I forced myself out the door, and someone asked how Larry was and I had to tell them he was married.

I can laugh about it now; it wasn't so funny then. I think that may have been my last trip to China Gate. Occasionally my parents would have us over for dinner and they would pick up food from China Gate, but then we started getting food from other chinese restaurants.

But when I drive by and see the empty green restaurant, it will always be full of memories for me.

The Simple Things I am Thankful For

2008-11-24T14:11:00.000-08:00

We alternate families on Thanksgiving. Even years, it's my parents. Odd years, it's David's sister.

The last time we went to my parents, my mother had us go around the table and tell everyone what we were thankful for. So I'm trying to give this some thought in advance. The last 5 days or so have helped me on this track.

Daughter Heather arrived home from OU last Wednesday with her big basket of laundry, proudly announcing that she had done no wash since her last visit here (about 6 weeks ago). That night, I decided to start in on her laundry. About 20 minutes after I turned the machine on, I heard David yell "A FLOOD!!!" Now God knows what he'd be yelling if we lived in New Orleans when Katrina hit. I came running into the utility room and yeah, there was a fair amount of water on the floor. The bathroom, which is right off the utility room, also had a fair amount of water, but upon further investigation, we realized the water didn't cross over from one room to another. We discussed if we could we have two separate problems. David said in this house we could have many problems. So we mopped up, the toilet seemed ok, and that was that.

On Thursday, David called me at work to announce that he was doing wash and flushed the toilet and there was water and poop floating everywhere. We discussed who he should call. We decided against the "weird plumber." My sister had recommended the weird plumber a while back. I thought he was pricey and David thought he knew what he was doing, and we both agreed that he was weird. He told us that my nephew, my sister's son, had large poops based on the plumbing he did. I told David I did not want this plumber announcing to anyone the size of our poops. So we agreed to find another plumber. He was successful, and it turned out the toilet had to be pulled out and we had tree roots underneath the toilet. The problem was fixed, for $300+ dollars. Did I mention that I had previously told David we needed to spend less this holiday season?

So the plumber left, and David gave the utility room and the bathroom a thorough cleaning. I thought well maybe this was a blessing in disguise; it's been a very long time since those floors have had a good cleaning.

On Friday at work, the roof over my office started to leak. Brown water started dripping in. I put a bowl on my credenza and was losing my mind with the sound of the drip...drip...drip. When I arrived home from work, my dear 14 year old dog Pepper was sitting in a corner, shaking like crazy. We agreed we would call the vet first thing in the morning. Meanwhile, Pepper started to pee uncontrollably all over the dining room. I mean huge puddles. I'm yelling "HELP!!!" Again, we can't imagine how we would respond in a real emergency. So we moved the dining room table and David gave the floor a thorough mopping.

Saturday I took Pepper to the vet, and a urinary tract infection was diagnosed. She had an x-ray and was given a shot of antibiotics as well as oral antibiotics to take home. It was also discovered she had ringworm, so we got pills for that. The vet wanted to know if she hunts. Hunts? Yeah, she wanders around the house hunting for crumbs. Her time outside is limited to slowly walking to the grass, doing her business, and slowly returning to the house. The bill? $188. It was when I returned home with Pepper that I noticed our kitchen faucet had stopped working correctly. The water would come out, but more was coming out where the faucet is attached to the sink (I am not a technical person). The problem got progressively worse, and eventually, when we turned the water on, it would fly straight up into the air, soaking the drying dishes as well as the person using the faucet.

After a morning of doing laundry, I went upstairs to rest. Poor Pepper couldn't climb the stairs. David decided to be nice and he carried Pepper up the stairs. He put her down on the bed with me and then yelled "OMG, she's peeing." Yeah, I had just finished putting the clean sheets on. The pee went through the quilt, the blanket, the sheets and the mattress cover. I said well I guess I know what I"m doing tonight. We normally don't have terribly exciting plans on Saturday nights, but this was ridiculous.

Sunday we had a group of guys over to play poker. David put a sign on the faucet that said "do not use." I had no idea how hard it is to LIVE without a working faucet. We served bagels for breakfast and switched to paper plates for lunch when we ordered pizzas.

This morning David called the plumber, who came out and fixed the sink. Meanwhile, I was at work and noticed a sudden dripping sound and saw that the leak was in a new spot. So I moved the bowl to the new spot. Then I noticed my hair getting wet - the roof was leaking on my head! So I removed all papers and books that were in the way. People joked about me getting an umbrella installed so that I could continue to work. I commented to a co-worker "I did not need this today" and she responded "well what day WOULD you need this?" And I said just not on a 3 day work week.

I came home and the sink was fixed. David commented that he has never been so happy to have a working sink. And I realized all of the things I have to be thankful for. Being able to wash clothes and flush a toilet without there being a flood. Having a dog that is healing and who does her business outside. And having a sink that works. It's the little things in life that mean a lot.

Apple Pie

2008-11-18T15:35:00.000-08:00

I like to bake but have never been a big pie person. A few weeks ago, I decided to make an apple pie. Not completely from scratch - I bought a refrigerated Pillsbury crust. And I did not make it alone - I enlisted David to help cut the many apples (sliced very thin). And Pepper the dog sat with us, waiting for us to throw her apple slices. It was a wonderful pie. Came out a little too liquidy, so next time I would add a little flour to the apple mixture.

CRUMBLY APPLE PIE

Filling:
7 medium Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and sliced very thin
1/2 C granulated sugar
1 t ground cinnamon
1/4 t ground nutmeg
1/4 t salt

Topping:
3/4 C packed dark brown sugar
3/4 C all-purpose flour
1/2 t ground nutmeg
1/3 C chilled butter, cut into small pieces

Please oven rack in lowest position. Preheat oven to 400.

Put crust in pie pan. To prepare filling, mix together all filling ingredients (ADD A LITTLE FLOUR). Spoon into crust.

To prepare topping, in a small bowl, mix together brown sugar, flour and nutmeg. Using a pastry blender or 2 knives, cut butter into brown sugar mixture until coarse crumbs form. Sprinkle apples evenly with topping.

Bake pie until topping is lightly browned and filling is bubbly, about 35 minutes. If pie is overbrowning, cover loosely with foil.

A Celebration of Life

2008-11-17T18:04:00.000-08:00

This weekend I went to my first "celebration of life." The mother of a long-time co-worker (Dick) died. Dick left our company a few years ago, so we see each other maybe once a year.

People in our company are really good about supporting current as well as former co-workers, and three of us set off for a 65 minute ride across town, in a driving rain, to attend this celebration ceremony (I was gonna call it something else to be less redundant, but what can you call it - bash?... I'll just keep calling it a celebration).

I have only attended official funerals in my life. I am a religious reader of death notices (I know I'm not the only one who's like that), and I have seen some celebration of life notices and wondered what they were like.

Some of the funerals I have attended have really been disheartening to me. They are held in a church or synagogue or funeral home, and sometimes the person speaking doesn't even know the deceased. In others, there are many prayers said and the deceased seems to be an incidental part of the service. I am not a big organized religion person, and I don't like the sitting, standing, sitting, standing, and reading of prayers. I know it brings comfort to some people - I am not one of those people.

So I have decided, after this weekend, that when it's my time, I want the "celebration" concept. The woman who died was very active and involved in life. She had been a teacher, was active in the boat club (where the celebration was held), and was a very youthful mom and grandma.

We all met at the boat club and went into a big room that had tables set up. Food (good food!) was arranged on tables. A person who described himself as a life celebrant or a name close to that, talked about Ruth. That was the sole reason for everyone getting together, and Ruth was the sole topic of discussion. Ruth had been living with lung cancer for a while and was doing well with it, until she ended up with pneumonia and quickly decided she didn't want any heroic means to keep her alive. She gathered her family to tell them that, and she was gone not long after that. She told her family she did not want a funeral. Well the funeral directors suggested that the family have this celebration ceremony - a "non-funeral." And the man presiding over the ceremony told us we were not to call this a funeral - this was a non-funeral. He talked about Ruth after meeting with the family and getting an idea of who Ruth was and what she was about. Then he opened the floor for anyone else to speak. One of the grandchildren (a CPA, he told us, who had been helped in math by Ruth, the former math teacher) got up to speak and his sister accompanied him "for moral support." He spoke very lovingly about his grandma and late nights spent playing cards at her house. And how all his friends just looked at her as being much younger than her years. One woman told the group that she had called her son, a former student of Ruth's, to tell him about Ruth's passing, and he told her he would always remember how kind Ruth was to a fellow student who had lost a parent at a young age. And one older woman, with advanced arthritis, explained that she wanted to talk but couldn't stand up, so she sat in her chair and told us what a good friend Ruth had been and how they would play cards together. It was all very informal, and there was none of the nervous feeling that you get at funerals. The family recognized that they were lucky to have had Ruth in their lives, and they all knew that a part of her would continue on within each of them.

Then we ate. And visited. Since I started working with Dick in 1978, there were people there from the long ago past who I had not seen in many years. It was just a very nice affair, getting together, giving our support, learning more about Dick's mom, and well -- celebrating a life. And that is how I think the end of life should be.

The Office

2008-11-13T17:12:00.000-08:00

Two of my favorite TV shows are on at the same time - Greys Anatomy and The Office. So every Thursday I go into the den and program the TV to record The Office. After I finished hitting record, I started thinking about the show and wondering what it is that makes it so appealing to watch.

Each character is so unique, but it's the combination of the characters, being forced to interact together for most of their waking hours, that is so interesting (and humorous) to me.

I have been at my current job for over 25 years. So I KNOW what it's like working with all types, day after day. Our company started out very small - there were 4 of us to start, and we grew like crazy. And it was like a big family. If someone was getting married, we were all there, planning a party. If someone had a death in the family, we were all there at the wake. It was like this for many years. It was a very cohesive group. We went through all of the life cycles together - there were the early years of the weddings, then the births, then the graduation, and now, unfortunately, we're in the years of the funerals of the parents.

We had steady growth at the company for many years, and then we went through a period of very rapid growth. We were hiring anyone. Food was being stolen from the kitchen. Toilet paper was disappearing from the bathrooms! We didn't know everyone anymore, which was weird. And then we got smaller again, but a lot of that cohesiveness was gone.

In spite of that, many employees who had left the company would stay in touch and remark that they loved working at our company cause it was like family. Well, I thought, families kind of go through their cycles too. And people change and people say things that make us angry and maybe work is like that now. We've got the lazy one, the one who always acts like she's gonna do something she's supposed to do and then never does. There's the bossy one. And the one who ignores us whenever we need information. And the spiteful one - beware if you get this person angry, cause then you'll never get what you want. Although there are a few left who will always help out when needed, it seems we've lost most of that. Which makes me sad. We used to operate like a well oiled machine. Now we're a bunch of parts that never quite come together.

I love it in The Office when they are all summoned to a meeting. The boss is up there trying to be so enthusiastic and the rest of the group is sitting there, collectively thinking "oh brother." Maybe this is what happens when the company has been around for too long. If I could pick any kind of employment situation right now, I would choose to work for a company that is just getting started. And I would choose co-workers who would be there for the greater cause. Because those were my favorite times in the life of our company.