Thursday, December 31, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
I timed my visit so that I would be able to eat lunch at Jack In The Box. Don't tell me you are surprised!. Everybdy knows Jack In The Box has the best tacos in the whole wide world. I kid you not. We first discovered these tacos many years ago... 37 yeaers ago to be exact. Jim used to pick up a dozen or so when he would get done with the late night shift at the grocery store and we would devour them. They are basically an unidentified source of meat and cheese deep fried in a soft corn taco shell with lettuce added. I absolutely love them. And they are only 2 for $1. Talk about a bargain!
So here I am at Jack In The Box, eating cheap but tasty tacos and a large soda. A large soda that I refilled. So I had to go potty before I got back on the road. Someone was in the bathroom. So I had to wait. I could hear the stool flush. I could hear water running. Then I could hear the automatic hand drier turn on. Seconds later she exited the bathroom wiping her still wet hands on her jeans. She walked out and I walked in. I did my thing, washed my hands, and then the revelation happened. This is the reason for jeans! How many of you have the patience to let those auto driers do their thing? Not me. I washed my hands, and wiped them on my jeans before I grabbed hold of the still wet door handle, thinking that is gross. Fortunately I knew why the handle was wet because I had been standing on the other side listening to the goings on.
I wiped my hands on my ever present jeans and headed on to the airport. Thank you jeans!
So how about you? Why do you wear jeans?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
About the only way to describe these past few weeks is hectic. It was hectic at work. It was hectic with my business. It was hectic with the family. It was hectic at church. It was hectic with Christmas performances at the local nursing homes. It was hectic getting ready for the big night.
I have a favorite “kitchen” scissors. It is actually just a plain, cheap, ol’ blue handled pair of scissors that I use for everything. I use it to open mail, cut open packages of cheese, cut protective plastic from lids, open bags of potato chips, cut tags off my new blouse… and I use it to wrap presents. I am lost without my blue handled scissors.
So here we were, December 23rd. I am ahead of the game. Yea me! I am getting all of the presents wrapped before Christmas Eve for a change. Yea me! And Jim is helping me. Yea
he him! Then disaster strikes. The blue handled scissors goes missing. I mean, it is GONE!
Me: Jim, where is the scissors?
Jim: I don’t know, you just had it.
Me: I know I did. But it is gone!
So we move everything off the counter where the presents are
haphazardly carefully being wrapped, thinking the scissors would turn up under a box, paper or something.
Jim: Did you leave the room?
Me: No! I didn’t move from this spot!
Jim: You must have put it in a drawer.
Me: I did not put it in a drawer. I haven’t opened any drawers.
So we check every drawer, we went from room to room checking, even though we both knew I had not left the room. And we did not find the scissors. I had to make do with a not so favorite, black handled scissors. Things just weren’t the same after that. It was like I had lost an old friend or something.
Now fast forward to Christmas Eve. The four middle grandkids had taken turns reading the bible story of the birth of Jesus. It was really sweet. We were taking turns opening presents. Actually by this time I’m pretty sure the turn taking had gone by the wayside and it was more a free for all. This is where things get a bit fuzzy. Someone needed a scissors to cut something. And someone else handed them… wait for it… wait for it….
my missing blue handled scissors!!!!!
Me: Where did you get those?
Jim: Where did those come from!!!!
You can see the answer in the picture below:
I had wrapped them inside James’ present.I was going to take a picture to post of the scissors back home, safe and sound, in their usual place. But I couldn’t. They aren’t there. And I don’t know where they are…
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Come on in!
Or ring the door bell, if you are uncomfortable just barging in.Hubby found this door bell in a junk yard when he was in grade school. Now, by anybody’s standards, that was a l o n g…. time ago! We love the thringgg sound it makes when someone comes to visit. We don’t hear it nearly often enough, though. Most feel comfortable just barging in.
Santa watched over the whole lot of us while we baked our hearts out last Sunday.
Sugar cookies are serious business.
Where did this little elf come from? Hi Reagan!
The guys were in charge of quality control.
We fired them. Is that good James?
The tree lights shone on – but we were too busy to notice.
We were busy showing off our dimples.
We were busy competing to see who has the deepest dimples.
We were busy rolling molasses cookies in sugar… and joining in the dimples competition.
We were busy horsing around. Are those more dimples I see?
Decorating sugar cookies was very serious business. They had to let Cara ice ten cookies before they could attack with sprinkles.
Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus.
I hope you enjoyed a bit of Christmas with me.
And I hope you take a moment to say thanks for all that you have. I am thankful for my family, my health, my friends. I am thankful for all of you.We are celebrating the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ – Baby Jesus. That is what Christmas is all about. Merry Christmas to all – and to all a good night.
Friday, December 18, 2009
It was such a dreary day today. As I headed into town to do grocery shopping, (we do have to eat – even if it is yucky out) it was foggy and dreary. There were a few snow flurries. As I hustled in and out of the stores, all I could think about was getting back home to my nice warm house.
This is what I saw as I walked in the door. My African Violet. Isn’t she beautiful?
My mother and my grandma always grew the most beautiful African Violets. I, on the other hand, have never been able to get them to bloom. Oh, heck, I need to face it – I’ve killed more of these beautiful plants than I care to admit.
When mom passed away, I decided to try growing an African Violet once again in her memory.
I put her (the plant, not mom) in one of those fancy planters that insist the water be placed in the bottom and then the porous pot holding the plant sits inside the pot holding the water.Then I talked to the expert (Jim). You see, mom always placed her African Violets in her kitchen window above the sink. So I asked Jim exactly what direction that window faced. And then I sought out a window in my house that faced South-East – just like mom’s. And yes, I again had to consult the expert. For some reason I never have been able to figure out North from South, East from West. If I were one of the Wise Men, I’d still be wandering around looking for baby Jesus.
Thanks to my husband, who knows his directions, and the memory of my mother and grandma, I am in awe of my beautiful blooms in the middle of winter. I am positive they are both beaming down on me - and probably did some fertilizing when I wasn't looking. It doesn’t get any better than this!
Monday, December 14, 2009
It was nice of the weather to cooperate. We've been co-hosting these parties for nine years now and more times than not we've had ice and snow to deal with. One year we had to cancel because the weather was too dangerous. What a waste of good food! And two years ago we woke to the ice storm that took out power throughout the midwest for, in some cases, weeks. Jim and I were without power for four days. It was kind of fun. We played a lot of cards by coal oil lamp and candles. I made soups on the wood stove. We ate out a lot. The roads were clear but the power was out at our house. It was not out in town. Anyhooo...
I got this Santa in an email today
It reminded me of a night out a few years ago. We were slumming it with the same friends we host our annual Christmas Open House with. The place was the SOB (also known as Steedman's Only Bar). Steedman is a little spot in the road near us. I doubt if the population is more than 500, including cats and dogs and the occasional pot belly pig. The bar no longer exists. I think the town does, though.
Anyway, this place served burgers, tenderloins, catfish and some of the best fries we had ever eaten. And it was all served by one little old waitress. And I do mean she was old. She was a hustler and such a spunky thing. We had the best time. Just kicking back, laughing, & telling stories on each other. You know how it is. At one point Jim asked our little waitress - she was so little and wiry - if the fries were homemade, because they were the best fries he had ever eaten. Her answer? "They sure are! Made by this little ho right here!"
Oh, and she couldn't figure our bill up right. The amount she was charging us was ridiculously low and we kept telling her it wasn't enough. It wasn't right. But she knew she was right. I think we left her something like a $60 tip. I don't remember how much exactly, but it was enough to make up for her lack of mathematical abilities.
We belly laughed all the way home. So ho, ho, ho! Hope you are well on your way to being ready for a Merry Christmas! Anybody else have a funny restaurant or slumming it story?
Friday, December 11, 2009
I never claimed to be neat.
I never claimed to be tidy.
And I never claimed to be a neat and tidy cook!
Actually, I am a very, very messy cook. Always have been, always will be.
We are hosting a Christmas Open House with some friends tomorrow night. Thank GOODNES the open house is not at MY house! It is a mess. Not just the kitchen. The whole house is a mess. But that will change – it always does. By nature I am actually a very tidy person. But when there is a lot going on, I let things slide, knowing we will bring it all back around sooner, rather than later.
I’m not so sure about this kitchen, though. See for yourself.
You don’t think that is too bad? How about this?
You see a bottle of rum you say? Why yes you do!
Some of the recipes I am making are Spinach Phylo Rollups, Crab Rangoon, Bacon Wrapped Chestnuts, Bacon Bundles, Bourbon Weiners, a Vegetable Tray with Anchovy Dip, Sausage Stuffed Mushrooms, Smoked Turkey Canapes, and some sort of candy – can’t remember the name.
Dang! I’m ready for some of that rum!Party pictures to follow. Maybe.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Today I opened a beautiful e-card sent to me by my friend Alice Kay. As I listened to the music and watched the little birds flitting around my computer screen, a memory from my childhood flooded back to me. The memory of the wishbone.
The wishbone legend began with the ancient belief that chickens were fortune tellers. The tradition of wishing on their clavicle, or “wishbone,” was passed down through the generations and brought to America by the Pilgrims. They adapted it to the turkey, making it a part of the Thanksgiving festivities.
I never knew the legend. But I definitely knew the wishbone. It was always an honor to be on one of the ends of the wish bone.
It is a mystery how they decided who had the honor of making a wish, but it always seemed fair. We would close our eyes and make a secret wish. “Don’t tell anyone, or it won’t come true!” I can’t even remember what any of my wishes were. I just remember how special it was to be the one to grab hold one of the slippery ends of the wishbone to pull.
There must have been an art to tugging on that bone just right, because my older brother always came out with the winning end.
Oh! And the Thanksgiving wishbone! That was really special! And I’m kicking myself, because this is one tradition I never thought about carrying on with my own kids. I had not given it a thought until I watched those little birdies in my card tugging at that wish bone. I’m just going to have to start a new tradition with my grandchildren.
Close your eyes, make a wish, and pull! Shhhhh don’t tell anyone what your wish is or it won’t come true!Oh, and in case you are wondering, I did finally let Austin and James out of the trunk. They won’t call me old again anytime soon!
Saturday, December 5, 2009
I went to pick up two of the grandkids the other day.
Julie’s 4 year old Austin. Tessa’s 4 year old James.
The plan was for them to spend the night with us.
Here’s how the conversation went before we even got out the door:
Austin: Grandma, you’re old.
Me: What do you mean I’m old? Just for that, you have to stay home.
James: But you ARE old Grandma!
Austin: Now you can’t go either, James, you called her old…I threw them in the trunk and took them with me anyway.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
In my previous post I mentioned that I wished I had done a better job of placing the table cloth on the table. It really drove me crazy to see the table sticking out where it should have been covered.
See what I mean? It is just tacky!
But never fear, SuperIggy, to the rescue!
Look in your email, its a joke... its a spam... No Its SuperIggy! Faster than DSL, more powerful than a virus, able to make me grin in a single sentence. Disguised as Karl, mild mannered IT Tech for the major metropolitan PA area and beyond, fights the unending battle for kindness, smiles, and the Bloggy way.
Ahhh, I’ll once again be able to sleep peacefully, without a care in the world.How can I ever repay you, Iggy? Oh how? Oh how? Oh how!