My New Picture

For a long time I've had as my blog photo a picture of myself that I like. Now I'm changing it to one that I find hilarious. The caption that goes with it is, "It's been a tough year...but I made it!" I feel like I've been there a couple of times myself.
Humor is a strange thing. Aren't we glad that God chose to insert a funny bone into humans? I think I read that the only other creature that God gave a giggle to is the chimpanzee.
One of the traits I prize the most in my friends and relatives is the ability to laugh. My mother was the best laugher in the business, and telling her a joke was one of life's finest joys. I fell in love with my husband the first time I met him, because he was so funny. He always had a quip and kept everyone laughing.
At one time I wanted She was wise engraved on my tombstone. Now all I want on there is She laughed a lot. When I'm gone, I hope my family and friends will remember me as someone who loved funny jokes, hilarious cartoons, and genuinely humorous stories.
There have been some rough times, but I've made it through them and I can still strut my stuff and laugh!

Smalltalk

I just finished reading the latest Sue Grafton book, U is for Undertow. That Kinsey Milhone is my kind of woman!
At one point she admits that she doesn't do smalltalk, and she admits that that may be why she doesn't have many friends. I totally understand.
I've never been very good at smalltalk. I really don't care about the current celebs, for example. To me they all look alike and they live like trash. I don't talk politics with anyone unless I know they agree with me. (That's because I don't think fast enough to argue with them.) Comments about the weather only lasts about ten seconds. I don't know anything about current fashion and styles (except that for the most part, I don't like them). So there's nothing to talk about.
One of the problems with Face Book is that most of it seems to be smalltalk. People write such small stuff that it's often one cryptic word. I hardly ever know what they're talking about, but that's probably because A) I'm old, and B) I don't know how to do or decipher smalltalk.
The one exception to this is if the person I'm talking to is a teacher (or was ever a teacher). THEN we have something to talk about! But I don't class that as smalltalk. That's interesting, important stuff!
Kinsey's right. It's hard to have many friends if you don't have anything to talk to them about.

Lemon on Lemon on Lemon

I can't get enough of lemon. Lemon meringue pie, lemon whippersnap cookies, lemon-pecan no-bake cookies, lemon frostening, lemon anything at all.
It reminds me of my favorite cake to take to a pot luck: lemon cake mix, poked while warm and drizzled with lemon Jell-O, covered with lemon pudding, frosted with lemon frosting with a drift of lemon zest on top. Is there a way to add more lemon to this thing?
Also reminds me of the time we were in El Paso, TX. I wasn't feeling all that well, and we decided to eat in a big cafeteria place where I would probably be able to choose something that would not rile my stomach up any more. There was something that looked like it was made with lemon Jell-O, and I asked the server, "Is that Jell-O?" She said, "Si, it is jello." Well, it wasn't as lemony as I thought it should be. Later, we were shopping for guyabera (sp?) shirts for Jim, and I told the clerk I would take two of them. She said, "Do you want this jello one, too?"

My father, Bob Ludwig, grew a huge garden every year, and he was especially fond of growing weird things. Someone sent him some cotton seeds one year, so he grew cotton. He grew peanuts and let his grandkids dig them up. He got some experimental popcorn from the Lab where he worked, and it was the greatest stuff ever! The kernels, instead of being tooth-breaking rocks, were like styrofoam. It got so we wanted the kernels to only half-pop so we could eat the "old maids." Bob didn't know the seed's specific name, and he could never grow any more of it.

One of the veggies that he introduced to us was kohlrabi. It's a strange, other-worldly looking thing. It's a round lime-green ball with leaves sticking out from the ball. Looks like you'd expect Sputnik to look (for those of you who are old enough to remember Sputnik), or maybe like something in the Jetsons (for those of you a little younger).

We peeled off the green skin and sliced the thing thin. I usually soaked the slices in ice water to make them extra-crisp. The taste is something between a turnip, a potato and a radish. This month's Arthritis Today Magazine has a bit about kohlrabi that I didn't know: you can saute the leaves in oil and garlic and eat them, too!

So this next spring someone in the family has to plant kohlrabi. Maybe I'll even plant some in my flower bed. Who'd guess it wasn't some expensive and rare flower?