It's A Good Life

2011-11-22T16:35:00.000-08:00

One of my very favorite soups is something I call Italian Meatball Soup. It's basically a minestrone without the cabbage and squash but with meatballs added.

I start with about a quart of water in the kettle.
Add
1 can diced tomatoes
1 can Cannellini beans
1 carrot, diced
1 stalk celery, diced (or sliced thin)
1-1/2 t instant beef bouillion granules
1 clove garlic (I used dried)
2 T spaghetti seasoning
1 C rotini
3 Johnsonville Italian sausages
Everything goes in the pot at one time. To make the "meatballs", I squeeze the meat out of the sausage casings and roll each little ball in the palm of my hands to make them round. Bring to boil and then simmer at least 45 minutes.

My brother-in-law, Gary asked for the recipe and made it himself, with the following misadventures and results:

Gary’s Misadventure with Italian Meatball Soup Recipe

I put together the Italian Sausage soup recipe you sent me and it was terrific. However, I made a couple adjustments ( actually you could call them tactical errors) when I stopped at the store to pick up the sausage and the cannellini beans. While there I saw the diced tomatoes sitting there on the shelf, so I picked up a small can, even though I had some at home. I had all the other ingredients and decided to make the little meat balls and cook them ahead for Tuesday. About 3:30, I began preparing the soup with the 1 quart of water, the beans, the tomatoes, carrots, garlic and celery. I began heating it all as I started the rotini water.

About six or seven minutes later I realized I had forgotten two ingredients, the bouillon and spaghetti mix. I went to the cupboard and looked through my collection of pre-mixed seasonings and found a packet of Kroger Spaghetti mix. I tore it open and plopped it in the soup, then added the beef bouillon. I mixed it well and let it gain speed to a boil for about three minutes. The rotini was doing well and I pulled it off the fire to make sure I didn’t overcook it. I let it simmer another five minutes and dumped the rotini in and stirred it for a couple minutes.

I took a soup spoon to sample the broth and was I surprised! The broth was hot as a firecracker, not flame hot, but pepper hot. It burned like a five alarm chili recipe, nearly sucking the wind out of me. Not what I had expected. The spices floating through the broth were INTENSE to say the least. Very tasty, but hotter than hell. I quickly poured a cup of water in the soup and prayed for help. I looked at the spaghetti sauce mix, but found no answer for the scalding going on in my mouth, despite my suspicion that someone had laced it with cayenne pepper. The bouillon wouldn’t have been peppered, so I went to the garbage can and picked up the tomato can. On the label, in a pretty celery green banner were the words “with green chilies.” I had not noticed that when I bought them. I have now. I added another cup of water and simmered it another five minutes, tasted it and took a small bowl of it. I was surprised at how I could taste the rich flavors through the pepper searing my tongue. I thought, "Man, Jim would love this!" Most very hot foods are just that, to me, little flavor and a lot of hot. Not this stuff, it was delicious, as it started softening the enamel on my teeth.

I wondered why the flavors were still so strong. I looked at your recipe again and noticed I had overlooked the portion of two T spoons of spaghetti mix; I had dumped the whole contents of the envelope into the soup. I finished my soup and walked out to the mail box to check my mail, the stinging still working on my mouth. It began to subside at the curbside and by the time I got back to the kitchen, my taste buds had calmed down, but still the buzz lingered. I had moved the pot off the fire nearly ten minutes earlier, and I decided I would take another bowl of soup. To my surprised the intensity of the pepper has lessened and, though still potent, was much more tolerable. Great flavor and a nice little zing. People who like hot chili and tacos would probably like this version.

Gary:
What an adventure! And you can still try the "regular" version some time and get yet another treat! My cousin and I often have misadventures like this.

About the tomatoes with chilies: Susan put rotel tomatoes in a cream cheese and sour cream dip and it was terrific. So I got a can of them, thinking they were mildly hot. Wrongo, Dog Breath! I have three cans of them in my pantry that I'm going to donate to Robin since she and Chris like hot stuff. I'm really careful now to be sure the tomatoes are JUST tomatoes! I think the dip was mild because the milk products counteracted the heat.

Glad you could eat your "original" recipe!

The Old House Comes Down

2011-07-16T17:08:00.000-07:00

Mother always wanted me to build a new house where her old one stood. Before I could do that, the old house had to be emptied and removed. The emptying was quite a chore. All those things she saved that she might use some time, and 40 boxes of fabric and yarn.

To make the demolition quicker (and cheaper), we engaged the Eureka Volunteer Fire Department to use the house as a training site and then to burn it down. I didn't go to the actual conflagration, but my kids did and they got some neat pictures of it.

Incidentally, it wasn't out of love of the old place that I didn't go to the burning. It was too early on a Saturday morning.

The Fire Department people were wonderful and I can't possibly thank them enough.

Bug's* First House

2011-07-12T16:32:00.000-07:00

My parents lived in the house at 617 N. Webster in Eureka for 34 years, and Mother hated the house the whole time she lived in it. She often said that if she had known how much money Bob had squirreled away, she'd have had a new house.
The old house was not well-built and had not been cared for before my folks moved in. The basement was perpetually wet, the rooms were small and there was an odd one that didn't adapt ttself to any use anyone could think of. The bathroom was 3-1/2 feet walled off of the end of the kitchen. The upstairs had two rooms, sort of, but you had to walk through the first one to get to the second one. The septic system was inadequate and a constant problem.
I inherited the house with her death in 2007 and finally decided to do what she always told me to do, "When I die, I want you to tear down this house and build a new one."
I had looked into the cost of re-modeling the old house, and when I reached $150,000, I decided we might as well build a new one. She liked the houses built by Homeway Homes, and I did, too, except there always seemed to be something awkward about every floor plan. For example, in one design you entered one of the bedrooms from the kitchen. And I don't want a humungous bathroom with a tub with gobs of squirters. I don't want to tie up gobs of floor space in bathrooms.
So the logical decision was to tear the house down and build a new one. It would be Bug's second house.
*Bug was my mother's nickname.

Ironing: From the 50s to the Present

2011-02-20T17:15:00.000-08:00

I understand that most young people today don’t own and iron and wouldn’t know what to do with one if they had it. I’ve seen people in clothes that should have been ironed and it isn’t a pretty sight. Manufacturers and major stores advertise that their clothes are 100% cotton, and that’s just fine, but all-cotton clothes rarely look pressed when they’re taken from the dryer. Even the most expensive dress shirts look messy without at least a little touch-up on the fronts.

I remember that as a teen (back in the 50s) we all wore cotton skirts that were very full and made to stand out by crinolines, sometimes two or three. My blouses were white shirts from Ship ‘n Shore and they had to be ironed. I decided that I could iron my clothes myself (an act of rebellion on my part – what kid today would think that was daring?) and I learned in a hurry. The trouble was I wasn’t good at planning ahead, and fairly often I would be ironing a blouse or skirt just before going somewhere in it. Mother ranted that I was wasting electricity by heating up the iron for one item. I did some calculations (I’d had physics by that time) and decided that each session was costing $.05. She wasn’t impressed, probably because her real issue was my lack of planning and doing things in an orderly way.

Talk about orderly systems, to get ready to do the ironing, you would lay out each piece on the ironing board and sprinkle it with water contained in a bottle with a sprinkler gadget stuck in the neck, an empty pop bottle was a good choice. The sprinkler gadget had cork around it so it would have a tight fit. Then you would roll each piece up tightly and lay it in the basket. Ideally, by the time you got to ironing, each piece would be uniformly damp and ironing would make the fabric nice and smooth. The biggest problem with this scenario is that I often didn’t want to finish all the ironing at one time. I’d put the dampened but unironed pieces in the refrigerator. If I didn’t, they would develop mold, and NO one wants to deal with mold spots on clothes! Probably half the women in the country had dampened clothes taking up space in their refrigerators.

When we moved into the house in Peoria, there was a trunk in the attic with several odd items. One was a ceramic sprinkler bottle in the shape of a Chinaman and a poem was on a card around his neck: “More better sprinkle bottle way Than squirt through teethie all the day.”

When I got married, I was faced with ironing a pair of men’s cotton pants. Hoo boy! Where should I begin? Rebellion be damned, I solved the problem by walking two blocks to Mother’s house and having her show me how to do it.

In the 60s clothes began to be made of blended fabrics, mostly nylon and cotton, but sometimes rayon and cotton. And we were blessed with a wonderful invention: the steam iron! To top it off, someone started producing spray starch!! At last the refrigerator was free of dampened clothes and the whole task was immeasurably easier—especially if you wanted to iron one piece at a time.

Over the years I have learned to enjoy ironing. It’s nice to have a job that is actually, really completed. Almost everything in housekeeping is never-ending and you can’t see any improvement after getting the jobs done. But with ironing, every piece starts out wrinkled and ends up sharp and crisp and hanging on a hanger. If there are 6 shirts to iron, you can rejoice when you get to the end of the 6th one. It offers a sense of accomplishment.

To make it even more enjoyable, I learned that when my kids were little, they stayed away when I was ironing. I think it was too boring for them. But, oh, what peace I had! All alone with my GE steam iron and a stack of ironing that would take me as long as I wanted it to. Janet Evanovich writes that Stephanie Plum’s mother ironed when she was anxious. Sometimes she ironed the same shirt over and over and over. I’ve never gotten that bad, because I always have plenty of things to iron, and if I weren’t so busy on the computer, I might even get caught up.

The Old Maytag

2011-02-19T18:08:00.000-08:00

I dearly love my automatic washer and wouldn’t give it up unless absolutely forced to do so. But there were some perks to doing the wash in the “old fashioned” way.

Mother had a Maytag wringer washer when we lived in Peoria in 1952. We had an apartment, and since there were two other apartments in the building, we were assigned a wash day. I believe our day was Monday. During the school year Mother did all the wash herself, but come summer I was involved, whether I wanted to be or not. The basement was dark, as I recall, and the outdoor clothes lines were stretched across a miniscule yard in back of our apartment house. One of my jobs was to take a wet rag and wash down each line to make sure there were no bird leavings or aluminum corrosion to soil the clothes. In the winter the clothes were hung on aluminum lines in the basement, and that was handier, but you couldn’t leave clothes hanging there because the other tenants would be using them the next day.

My Mother was very picky about how things were hung on the lines. I learned that you put three clothes pins across the top of towels so they didn’t get sway-backed. And handkerchiefs were folded in half and hung tightly by the corners so they’d be easier to iron. Shirts were hung by the tails, and the tails of T-shirts were looped over the line for about 4 inches so you didn’t have “ears” on the bottoms of the shirts.

When we moved to a bigger apartment in what had once been a large house, we didn’t have laundry privileges in the basement. Our Maytag sat in the corner of the kitchen which had once been a large bedroom. On laundry day it was pulled out and filled with water. We had the attic for storage, and we’d lug the galvanized tubs from the attic and set them on milk crates for the two rinses that were mandatory. The house had a back stairway, so we could take the wet clothes to the back yard in good weather. When it was raining or cold, we hung the clothes on lines in the attic. At least we didn’t have to rush to get the clothes taken down.

We moved to a house in 1954 and had the basement to ourselves. The Maytag sat in a corner waiting patiently for wash day which could now be any day of the week. Mother had a rule of thumb: If the weather was good on Monday, it would be raining on Friday…and vice versa. It never seemed to fail.

Father strung up sturdy aluminum lines in the back yard and in one side of the basement. We’d hang the things that took longest to dry on the farthest back lines. As thinner things dried, we’d take them down so we’d have room for more wash.

After I was married, I used laundromats for umpteen years. In 1973 my husband and I and three children moved back into that house in Peoria. Father had bought Mother an automatic washer, but she took it with her when they moved to the farm. The old Maytag was there, and I knew how to use it. For several months I had a weekly date with her.

There were a lot of advantages to old fashioned washday. For one thing, it was all over in a single day. You started with hot water in the Maytag and cold water in the rinse tubs. White things went in first while the water was hot and clean. When the first load was through swishing, you’d put them through the wringer into the first rinse and load the washer up with load number 2. While #2 was swishing, you’d plunge the clothes up and down in the water and then put them through the wringer into the third rinse. As soon as they were rinsed, you’d wring them into a plastic-lined bushel basket, and take them to the lines to be hung up. When you got back, load #2 would be ready to go into the rinse. Each load took about 20 minutes and we usually had 6 or so loads.

The last load was reserved for rugs and rags. Once it was on the line, you had to empty the washer and rinse tubs, mop up the water on the floor, put things away and wait until it was time to take the clothes off the lines. Nothing smelled as sweet as clothes dried on outdoor clothes lines!

I’ve often thought I would like to do my wash the old fashioned way again, just for the fun of it. When wash day was over, there was a feeling of satisfaction that I don’t get from my automatic washer. I think Mother’s old Maytag is in the barn at the farm, all covered with years of dust. I wonder if it still runs.

Does It Dissolve or Float?

2011-02-08T08:38:00.000-08:00

My hubby keeps me laughing. I think the quality I have always liked most about him is his sense of humor.
Last night he had insomnia. This morning I asked him what time he got to sleep and he said it was after 3:30. About 3:15 he got up and came down to the kitchen for some milk. He said, "I found out one thing. Nutmeg does not dissolve. It just floats on top of the milk no matter how much you stir."
And that reminded me of the time we came home one evening and found pepper and sawdust (I think it was) floating in water in the bathroom sink . Puzzled, we asked the girls who had done it, and found out it was Robin. "I wanted to see if pepper and sawdust would float."
As they say, the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree.

2011-02-07T09:22:00.000-08:00

Those little notes that accumulate beside the telephone are tantalizing. Every once in awhile the stack gets to unruly proportions and I decide to thin it out. Sometimes I find notes about things I was supposed to have done....weeks or even months ago. Ooops!
Then there are the cryptic ones that leave me puzzled.
In my latest purge I came across one that said "366 E. Hickory Kan 815 932 8124." I couldn't think of any contact I had had with Kansas in the past couple of months. I was about to add the note to the "important but unknown" stack when I remembered that you can do a reverse search of phone numbers on the Internet.
Wonderful! Turns out it wasn't Kansas; it was Kankakee, and the note referred to the address and phone number of a Catholic school. I must have been doing an article for the News Bulletin and jotted the information down so I could include it in the story.
Mystery solved. Note tossed in the circular file. Life is good.

The Birthday Cake

2010-10-22T12:57:00.000-07:00

Daughter Susan neglected to order a birthday cake from the bakery for Pete’s 5th birthday. It was Friday and his party with a Mega-Heroes theme was Saturday afternoon. She wanted a cake with Batman on it. The local grocery deli couldn’t do it on short notice, so she went to Wal-Mart, but they said they couldn’t do it either. They offered to sell her the Batman trinkets for the top and a cake, and then she could do it herself.
As she was trying to figure out what to do, the lady said, “It looks like you’re in a jam. I’ll go ahead and decorate a cake for you.” She sprayed on the Metropolis background and put in the Batman and Batmobile and asked if Susan would like a name on it. Susan was delighted, and she said, “You’ve just made a mother very, very happy!”
The baker said, “You know, that’s interesting. Recently I’ve become very unhappy in my job. I don’t like the hours. I don’t get any recognition for what I do. I want to be home with my kids in the evenings. Last Sunday our pastor gave a sermon about doing our best. He told us that we never know when something we do for another person is going to mean a great deal to them. Therefore, we should always do our best. I guess he was right.”
Being kind and always doing our best are truly things we should practice as we try to be Christ’s hands and heart in our world.

Large Economy Size

2010-09-04T17:53:00.000-07:00

Eons ago I was cooking for what seemed like a large family, although in reality it was only 3 kids and 2 adults. So whenever I bought something at the store, I bought the large economy size.
Habits are hard to break, and I find myself continuing to buy the biggest size of dill pickle chips, mustard, catsup, etc. But recently it occurred to me that there's just hubby and me here, and we really don't eat through those large economy sizes very fast. Besides, the big jar of pickles only fits on the top shelf of the refrigerator with the milk, tall bottles of syrup, and big bottle of catsup.
So, much as it will pain me, I'm going to buy those small sizes from now on. And maybe I can finally get the two gallon-size jugs of milk to fit on the top shelf.,

Emergency Response

2010-07-22T10:51:00.001-07:00

Fortunately I've never been physically attacked by a mugger or rapist. Sometimes I wonder what I would do if I were. On TV shows and in books, the muggee screams. I've tried to figure out if I would be a screamer, and I don't think I would. When other little girls were screaming as they played, I wasn't. I've never understood what makes little kids scream as they come out the school door for recess. Maybe there are some non-screamers in there, people like me, but it seems that most kids enjoy screaming and relish the opportunity to do so without criticism from adults. I remember when teen agers were crowding stages with the likes of Elvis performing, and they were screaming their lungs out. Ain't no way you would have found me there! Yesterday as I was driving down the alley on my way to pick up Hubby at the back door of the Print Shop, a black van came out between two buildings. She was turning right toward me, and she was on her cell phone. I could feel and hear the crunch that was about to happen. What did I do? I didn't scream. I didn't toot the horn. I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, WHOA!" As luck would have it, the woman saw me just before we made contact. She turned more sharply and missed me and I continued on to the print shop, albeit a little weak in the knees. The driver turns out to be the phone answering lady at the plumbing shop (I talked to her yesterday to get someone to come out to fix our waterheater), and she actually went up the alley, turned around, and came back to apologize. I was still pretty shook up, so I said, "Just don't talk on your cell phone when you're driving!" If I were writing this incident up in a novel, I sure wouldn't have had my heroine say "Whoa" and "Don't talk on your cell phone when you're driving." And I suspect that if I were attacked, I would say something just as stupid and insufficient. Maybe I should find some place to practice screaming.

My New Picture

2010-01-14T19:44:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-11T13:57:00.001-08:00

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

2010-01-06T18:27:00.000-08:00

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?"

2010-01-05T17:08:00.000-08:00

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?

Dining Room Progress

2009-11-23T17:45:00.000-08:00

The dining room renovation progresses, but slowly. All the awful wallpaper is gone, the cracks and nail holes are filled, and part of the pre-wallpaper primer is up. It's white, so it improves the look of the room. Grandson Robbie is a great help with the wallpaper, cleaning the woodwork of old tobacco tint, and painting on the primer. I have hope that it will soon be presentable....by Thanksgiving......oh gosh! That's only 3 days away! Tomorrow we do some more scooping on my accumulated clutter. Wednesday I cook. Thursday is it!

2009-11-07T17:47:00.000-08:00

I guess I'd better get with it and post something. What with my daily email letters and my Facebook stuff, I seem to empty my brain every day and there's nothing of significance to blog about. No one reads it anyway, but hey!
Thanksgiving is fast approaching and my dining room is still far from ready for dinner guests. Today I drove in to Peoria to the Sherwin Williams store to look for a border that would go with the 20 year old paper I have kept hoping to put on the walls. Well, my 20 year old wallpaper is out of date, even though there's hardly anything but a few dots on it. Funny how the arrangement of the dots can be so significant.
I found a bunch of borders that would be appropriate for this house, cabbage roses and such. One had colors that go well enough with the two papers I originally bought. (I'm installing a darker wallpaper on the bottom beneath the "chair rail.") I just don't know if I want to plunk down $30 each for 2 rolls of border. You can't bring home a sample of the border papers. I'm sorely tempted to just choose all new paper and forget about the cost. Of course, this 20year old paper is now "free," and free is hard to beat. Guess I'll have to get Robin in on the discussion. I want to try the books at Lowes first.
The bare plaster walls are so much prettier than that awful paper that was in the dining room. In one place where the putter-upper overlapped the sheets of paper by 4 inches, we could see that originally the paper was white with the red/white/blue/gray design. Over the years (and undoubtedly with smokers contributing their all) the paper took on a grayish tan overall color that was depressing and downright ugly.
There's a bunch of projects to be finished in the dining room before Nov. 26, not the least of which is to remove the carpet tack strips around the edges and to bring over the lovely hutch that brother-in-law gave us.
I have hope anyway.

Taste of Eureka 2009

2009-09-26T15:14:00.000-07:00

Another Eureka event is over, and a fine event it was! We thought for awhile that there would be no Taste of Eureka this year, but the Eureka Business Association and Heidi B. got it rolling, and by all reports it was a great success.
For those of you who don't know what a "taste" is, it's like a grown-up trick-or-treat. You buy a card (ours are $5) and then you go from place to place (the 22 listed on the card) and get whatever they are handing out. This year it was chicken kabobs from Knapp Tile, an apple from the Flower Basket, a frozen juice dealie from Heartland Bank, special caramel/chocolate popcorn from Lee's Hallmark, pizza from Caseys, a pork sandwich (with chips and drink) from the A.C. Home, a brownie at Mangold's, and on and on. The lucky people were those who went to the Library first, because they got a bag there to carry all their loot in. One canny lady showed up with a handled basket! Now, that's someone who was prepared!
We at the Historical Society gave out our usual 3-oz Dixie cup of rootbeer. It doesn't sound like much, but people seem to be grateful for it. This year we served both A&W and Dollar General's Clover Valley. The A&W was the foamiest. It was a chore to get the cups filled without the foam spilling all over. Believe it or not, however, everyone liked the Clover Valley best. If we were Consumer's Reports, we'd check-rate the Dollar General root beer.
As in year's past, we handed out a little leaflet that told the history of root beer. You know that a Historical Society has to stress the background of everything.
It was a fun evening and the 163 people who got our "shot" of root beer seemed to be happy campers.

One Kind of Work

2009-08-22T14:17:00.000-07:00

For over 2,000 years Christians have tried to do the work of the Lord. Usually that work involves organizing worship experiences, teaching the Bible, and caring for those in need, for example. Occasionally, however, the work of the church has been something a lot less pleasant.
One has only to think of the Crusades to begin to understand that what the Church considers “work” can be in the form of battle. And those who founded our country understood that work for Christ involved much hardship and change. We may be in for that kind of work again.

We have grown complaisant in our Christianity. For over 200 years Christians in our country have been free to worship God in peace. There have been occasional trials and tribulations, but for the most of us, being a Christian has meant going to church on Sunday (or not), saying our prayers, supporting charitable causes, studying the Bible, and generally acknowledging that we are followers of the Christ.

There are days of turmoil, change and conflict on the horizon. Other religious and political movements are growing rapidly, and they don’t adhere to the same rules as we are accustomed to. Their goal is to subdue the whole population of the world, and there is no room for Christianity in their plans. What we do about the situation is a conundrum, one that requires much thought and prayer.

It reminds me of the story of the peacock and the dove that was told to the class of Psychology 101 at Bradley University in 1956. Professor Smith was explaining to us freshmen that different cultures behave in different ways. He told about an experiment that was to pit two aggressors: a peacock and a dove (The dove being the symbol of “peace.”) In peacock culture, when one is getting the worst of a fight, all one has to do is to lay ones neck out on the ground, and the aggressor recognizes the signal as crying “uncle!” Doves don’t have the same rules of warfare. When the two birds tangled, the peacock finally had enough of it, and he laid his neck out on the ground. The dove pecked him to death.

We try to be peaceful people just as Christianity has taught us. There may come a day, however, when our work will be to stand up to those who would eliminate Christianity in our country and in the world. We need to do some work toward figuring out just what we will do and just when we’ve had enough….before we stick our necks out on the ground.

High Style

2009-07-26T13:14:00.000-07:00

I’ve been told that it is no longer fashionable to wear pantyhose (or any nylons, for that matter). I hope it isn’t true. I see lots of young women with bare legs, but I still think they look like heck. It's a rare leg that is tanned to the correct degree. Also, my feet stick to shoes when there’s no sock between skin and shoe, and I can’t see how it could be any different for other women. Very uncomfortable.
I wear pantyhose every single day of the year. It started when I was teaching and felt I had to wear them. Then I retired and didn't like shoes without socks, and I HATE the look of old women with anklets on! I don't like knee-highs, because sooner or later (if you're wearing a skirt) the tops of them are going to show.
When I had to start wearing compression knee highs, I found out that a pair of panty hose over them worked just fine. Now I'm so used to wearing the things that they don't even make me feel hot. My temperature-adjusting features are all above my waist anymore.
I put on my hose first thing in the morning and don't take them off till bedtime. I guess I’m the one out of fashion: I "dress up" every day with make-up, earrings and hose. As soon as I leave my bedroom, I’m ready to do whatever comes up…except go swimming or sunbathing. The only concession I've made to style is that I now wear "walking shoes," instead of flats.
---- Original Message -----

It's a Sad Day!

2009-07-23T08:17:00.000-07:00

Oh, what a sad day! This is a day we will remember forever! Gidget, the Taco Bell chihuahua, died! He was the most famous dog on the planet, and now he's gone. Life will never be the same. [I wonder if he had a doctor in attendance and drugs percolating through his system like another famous male recently-dead.]

Blessings

2009-07-22T08:47:00.000-07:00

In youth, we know for certain that we are fully alive and a good life stretches out endlessly before us. In our middle age, we know that we are living the way we are supposed to live and most of us feel that we are on the righteous path. We work in and for the church; we give to the poor; we honor the old in our midst; we take good care of our children, and we’re generally certain that we’re doing the best we can. The senior years, however, bring a new certainty, the positive knowledge that until now, we didn’t really know anything.
It is when life has removed some of our capabilities from us that we fully appreciate the blessings they were. When we can no longer get around freely, we understand the richness of unaided, unpainful movement. When we can no longer see well, we “see” that sight is one of our richest blessings. When our hearing fails and we’re deprived of easy communication with others, we recognize that good hearing is a pearl beyond compare. When our friends (and sometimes our kin) die, we know the importance of life, friends and family.
It’s no fun growing old, and it’s difficult to grow old gracefully and without complaint. Visiting Marie and being unable to communicate with her because her hearing aid is lost brought a frustration to us, and we couldn’t help empathize with her. But what she said to us was, “I’ve had a good life!” As powerless as she was to talk with us, she still had a smile on her face and happy words on her lips. Now, that’s the wisdom and blessing of age!

Vacations

2009-06-29T16:59:00.000-07:00

Age 5-21: Trip to visit someone I like.
Age 21-35: Trip to visit family that doesn't live close.
Age 35-65: Trip somewhere, anywhere
Age 65-70: Trip I'd rather not take.
Once in awhile I do get that urge to take to the road, remembering the good old days when it was thrilling to start on a vacation. A sudden happiness wells up in me and I'm really happy about driving somewhere.
But it's gotten so I would much prefer to stay home. My bed is comfortable (and doesn't cost $70 a night); the food is cheap and it's what I want to eat (not what the restaurant has to offer); I can water my flowers and bring in my own mail and papers, and most importantly, all my "stuff" is handy.
I hear others waxing poetic about the vacation they're about to take, and they just can't wait to get away. I may have felt that way one time, but now I have to MAKE myself want to go. I enjoy the trip while I'm on it, but if I didn't go, I'd be just as happy. The only really good thing about "getting away" is that the telephone doesn't ring all day with telemarketers.
Actually the trips I would like to take are all relatively short ones: to my daughters' homes, to visit my favorite cousin (100 miles), and to my brother-in-law's place in a nearby town.
You'll hear me rave about how much I like to "get away," but I lie.

Michael Jackson's Dead

2009-06-27T17:10:00.000-07:00

I can't let Michael Jackson die (yesterday) without registering my opinion.
Talk about media hype! Talk about inane celebrity frenzy! Talk about ridiculous statements as to MJ's fame! I actually heard a Fox News reporter/announcer/whatever say that "this day will go down in history as one of the saddest ever!" And "Michael Jackson is the most famous man on this planet." And "Everyone will remember what they were doing when they learned that MJ was dead." (I'll bet Mr. Obama disagrees with the second of those quotes!)
Aw, c'mon! MJ was an entertainer, for cripes sake. He's no more famous or memorable than any of the other greats, and who can even recall them after a few years, let alone a generation? I remember where I was when I learned John F. Kennedy was dead, and my parents remembered where they were when they heard the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. But Michael Jackson is far from being important enough to merit such memories from the majority of people on this planet, let alone this country.
There have been oodles of famous, wonderful, important people who have died in my lifetime, but to say that MJ was the greatest is absurd.
People who think MJ's death is such a tragedy that they have to drop everything and go mourn need to "get a life!"

How I Got Religion

2008-12-27T16:58:00.000-08:00

So, how did you learn your religion? I’ve heard of people who got theirs from Sunday School and a few who had parents or grandparents who read the Bible every evening. But I think I got my grounding by singing hymns and carols.

One of the first songs I learned was “Jesus Loves Me,” and I’ve discovered that my little Sunday-schooled grandchildren have learned it also. When I played the piano at a nursing home, everyone, no matter what their age or mental state, could and did sing “Jesus Loves Me.” I still believe that He loves me, and nothing that has happened to me in life has disabused me of that belief.

“What a Friend We Have in Jesus” was popular at our Sunday School, but it was also one that my grandmother played and sang. I have no memory for poetry, but I know most of the words to this hymn, and it’s theology hangs in my head even when people tell me that God couldn’t possibly listen to what all us myriad people have to say.

Grandma loved “The Old Rugged Cross,” and I do, too. There’s something haunting and yet satisfying about the words, and the music is just right. She also sang “Abide With Me,” “May the Lower Lights Be Shining,” and “In the Garden.” I think they are universal favorites.

Until recently every school child learned Christmas carols at school as well as at church. “Silent Night” is the most oft recorded song in the world, and the picture it makes of Jesus’ birth is just “how it was,” as far as most are concerned. Where was Jesus born? In the little town of Bethlehem, of course. Who came to see him? Harald angels, shepherds watching their flocks by night, and wise men traveling from afar.

When I was 14 I started taking piano lessons from Miss Johnson who was the music director and organist at a Christian Church in my city. She got me into the youth choir, and for four years I sang choir music, even participating in Handel’s Messiah four times. (I still think the alto part is the tune.) One of the songs we sang was “For God So Love the World,” and I loved that song! I can sing it today, albeit with the alto as melody.

One of my most embarrassing moments came when I was quite grown and had been “out of the church” for 13 years. One time some of my church friends kept mentioning John 3:16, and I didn’t have a clue what they were talking about. Finally I demanded, “What IS John 3:16?” They looked at me like I was a yokel, couldn’t believe I wouldn’t know it. When they repeated it, I said, “Oh, I know that one!” And I did. From singing it as an anthem.

I’ve had a lifetime of studying the Bible and theology, but I think the basis of all my religion is what I learned by singing with others the hymns, carols and anthems of our faith.

Probabilities and Certainties

2008-12-06T08:13:00.001-08:00

When I was in psychology 101 at Bradley University, Dr. Smith told us about his experiment with predicting heads or tails in coin tosses. He said that he and some others took 1,000 pennies and flipped them one by one and then tallied the results. And the result was that there were 500 heads and 500 tails. I don't really remember what he was trying to teach with that anecdote, but it stuck in my memory as the gospel truth.
Fast forward to today and the problem of certainties. For example, the saying goes that the bread always falls jelly-side down. I've had occasion to test that out, and I'd say it was more like an 80% likelihood, but others would argue with me. I'm not about to get 1,000 slices of jelly bread to try it out.
I do have one certainty, however. When you put your cup of coffee in the microwave and start it up, the turn table will revolve and will come to a stop with the cup on the far side of the oven. Jim and I have tested it hundreds of times, and it always works out that way!

Intended Consequences

2008-11-30T16:17:00.001-08:00

Thinking about unintended consequences brought me to an intended consequence.

People who write sentences where they substitute the letter "n" or "the n word" instead of writing it all out think they are being very caring and discerning, but what they are really doing is making me be the one saying the bad word!

And if they write "f--k" they know I'll have to say the darned word outloud in my head, thereby making me be the curser!

So if they want to say the words, just say them, just write them down, just get on with it and stop pretending to be nicey-nice!

Unintended Consequences

2008-11-29T13:12:00.000-08:00

For many years the Chinese have restricted the number of children their marrieds can have in the interest of curbing their population growth. I've always been quietly proud that we have not had to live with such an edict, but lately I've given thought to another form of child-limitation laws.

For most people in the U.S.A. there is a limit on how many children any couple can have. In practical terms it is eight. In even more practical terms it is four. But for most people, the limit is three.

So, you say, "There's no law like that in our country!" Yup, there is. It's one of those pesky "unintended consequences" that my hubby is always warning about.

Every child under the age of four (I think that's the age, but I may be wrong) has to sit in an approved child restraint seat. Every other person in the auto has to be seatbelted. So, count the seatbelts in an ordinary car. The answer is _______, (making the limit 2 adults and three children).

If you have four children, your vehicle must seat ____, which means you have to own a minivan.

The upper limit, unless you want to drive a school bus or take two cars everywhere, is eight, and you have to buy, maintain, and gas up a full-sized van.

I'm not proposing that we change any safety law. Goodness knows seatbelts and child restraint seats have saved countless lives and prevented a myriad of injuries. But, when we're criticizing China for their limiting law, we must also recognize that we live with some limitations ourselves.

Profanity 101

2008-11-11T10:57:00.001-08:00

I remember when I decided I was old enough to swear. I’d spent 16 years using only darn and heck, and shortly after I turned 16 I allowed myself to say damn and hell. It was such a major step toward what I considered to be maturity. I watched my adult family smoke, but never considered smoking a badge of maturity. Swearing was something else again.

The adults in my family honed their swear-word vocabulary and used the power words and phrases liberally. Hardly any of them could or would complete a sentence without a g-damn or sob (they didn’t abbreviate them, of course). The words wafted around the dinner tables, casual conversations, political arguments, anecdotes, jokes, and so forth. It seemed to me that grownups had this separate and unequal language that was reserved for them….and I kind of wanted to be mature like that.

I was too much of a “good girl” to use such language, however. At 16 it was time to stretch out. I don’t recall exactly when I first used a damn in the presence of my mother, but bless her heart, she didn’t bat an eye. Damn and hell became okay words, and I reveled in being able to use them.

I think it was several years later when I added ---- (chit, as cousin Joy says in print). I have always thought it a vulgar word, and regret that I ever started using it. But some of the funniest lines extant are those that use this useful if despicable word. I was always careful to reserve the word to private conversations. I remember one time at a church dinner one of the girls spilled a whole glass of milk on the table. I said, “Oh shoot!” Our minister was impressed. He said that not many people would have been able to resist the obvious swear word to fit the occasion.

Using profanity at home was usual. I didn’t realize how ubiquitous it was, until the day my 3-year old son and I stepped out the side door, and caught sight of a blooming plant. He said, “I wonder what the hell kind of plant that is?” Ooops! Time to clean up the family language, and I did.

Almost everyone remembers the first time their offspring correctly used profanity. Three year old grandson Robbie was trying to pull up a beet, and his mother heard him say to himself, “How the hell do you get this damn fing outa here!”

And now those swear words that gave me such pleasure have been eclipsed by “the queen mother of all swear words.” And the power of that all-purpose word has been diluted until its as common as the word “the.” It’s a word I’ve never learned to use freely, and I think I’ll keep it that way. I reserve it for really serious situations where I need the most powerful of profane words to express or release the tension. But I guess I’m old-fashioned.

Nine Months to Learn to Knit

2008-11-08T16:21:00.000-08:00

Feeling motherly when I discovered I was pregnant with my first baby, I decided I'd knit it a sweater (In those days we had to do things the old fashioned way, and I didn't know if "it" was a boy or a girl). I got one of those "How to Knit" books at the Ben Franklin store and a couple of hanks of light yellow baby yarn. It was slow learning, but I had nine months to do it in. I got all the pieces done, sleeves, back, fronts, but I never got it put together which is just as well, because by that time I was sick of that color of yellow.

However, by then I had the knitting bug, and for the next 5 years I knitted sweater after sweater for my kids, a girl and a boy eventually.

I even knitted a sweater for my father-in-law who said one January that no one had ever knitted him a sweater. It turns out that the sweater was too big, and I don't think he ever wore it, but he liked the idea that I had done it for him. When he died, my youngest daughter glommed on to that sweater and probably still has it.

I knit argyle socks for my father in nylon yarn. They were a blast to knit! And he WORE them! Eventually one of my daughters got those, too.

There were some flops along the way. I knitted a heather blue sweater for my mother that got into deep trouble with the cowl collar. Even she couldn't figure out how to finish that sweater, and she was an excellent knitter. A couple of years ago I set out to knit sweaters for my two- and one-year-old granddaughters. I think I got one finished, but the other one is languishing and will probably never be completed. That doesn't bother me really. The part of knitting I like is the DOING of it!

You've Got to Wonder

2008-11-06T19:00:00.000-08:00

In the wake of the election of the Obama, the developing trend is disturbing.

You know, if anyone were trying to undermine the government of the U.S.A., what they need to do is get elected president and then appoint the very worst examples to major posts.

For example, they might start by naming John Kerry as Secretary of State. Another good choice would be the most partisan Democrat to the post of Chief of Staff. And to take a famous general and make him Secretary of Education.

It wouldn't be hard to come up with the people who would be most likely to fail, to louse things up. Looks like the good old U.S.A. has some tumultous and maybe disastrous times ahead.

I've never read The Manchurian Candidate, but maybe it's time that I did.

Bur Battle

2008-09-22T08:29:00.000-07:00

I thought I knew every bur-bearing plant there was. When I was a kid living on the sandy bluff known as New Boston, IL., I steered clear of sandburs. Those little devils really hurt when you’re bare-footed, and it even hurts to pull them off of your skin. Then there were “stick tights,” tiny black sticks with a bunch of quills sticking out of one end. They were aptly named.

When I moved to Eureka, I was introduced to cockleburs. I think their only redeeming feature is that the guy who invented Velcro got his idea from cockleburs. Oh yes, I guess the Japanese eat the plant some way or other. ---A neighbor told me that there was a cocklebur plant growing in front of her house. A Japanese college student was walking by and exclaimed “A bur plant!” (She said it in Japanese, however) She was all excited and took part of the plant back to her room to cook it.--- I’ve learned that cockleburs are VERY disease, insect, and Round-up resistant. The latter just beads up on the leaves, and it’s almost totally ineffective. You never see damage to a leaf that means some insect is dining or living on it. Digging out the roots is a hard job, even when the plant is young.

A couple of years ago I discovered “bedstraw.” How it got that name, I don’t know. It’s a fragile-looking, pretty plant with pretty little leaves, and sticks like glue! I first found it in my cats’ fur. They walked under the plant and it latched on. I’ve grubbed it out of my yard and yank it out of the neighbors’ yard whenever I see it.

And now I have found “bursage.” It’s a kind of ragweed. I was pulling bindweed from the bushes and redbud tree in front of the house, and suddenly I was COVERED with tiny green burs! I looked closer and discovered this innocent-looking plant with 4-inch, limber twigs with little green globs on it. By the time I saw the darned thing, I was covered with those burs. Those who know me know that I wear an elastic sleeve to control my lymphodema. There must have been 200 little burs stuck to that sleeve! And another 300 stuck to my shirt! And another 100 or so stuck to my pants! And another 50 stuck to my shoe laces! I started pulling them off and discovered that it is nearly impossible to get all of the stickery things off. I’d pull off a bur, and there would be one or two 1/8 inch, “limbs” that were left stuck into the fibers of my clothing, and every one of those teeny limbs could stick to anything that came near. The sleeve was a total loss, and those things cost $75 a piece! My shirt was a loss. Fortunately it was an old one. I worked long and hard on the pants and finally got it bur-free, ditto my shoes.

I went online and think I’ve identified the wicked plant as “bursage,” a low-growing relative of ragweed. The sites I was on didn’t give me a really good chance to identify the plant, however, and I don’t know where my ‘plant key” is from my college botany course.

I was hard put to figure a way to get rid of that bunch of plants (a grouping about 3 ft. in diameter). Last night as I was trying to go to sleep I decided to encase myself in plastic bags, pull the stuff up and seal it in a plastic garbage bag. This morning Jim helped me tape a plastic grocery bag to my sleeved arm, and a black plastic garbage bag as a skirt. I went out and carefully pulled the offending weed up and stuffed it into another bag. I was doing pretty well until a skinnier branch flang back on me and nailed my shirt, an old one that I could do without if things went bad. I got all 50 burs out of my shirt and the 10 or so that were on my shoe laces. Now I have to make a note in my datebook for next spring to be sure to use Round-up on any plant in that area that doesn’t look familiar. I’m already on patrol for stinging nettles. Now I’ve added bursage to my battle list. (I should have had Jim take a picture of me in my bur battle dress.)

When I Retire...

2008-09-10T19:31:00.000-07:00

I remember the year I decided to retire. I had been working for seven years so we would have insurance. Good enough reason, eh? But age 65 was approaching and I thought, “Hey, I don’t need to work for insurance anymore. I think I’ll retire!” And I did. Sort of.

I didn’t go in to work any longer. I had every day, all day to do as I wanted…and I got a pay check anyway. What a hoot!

I was all set to enjoy the retired life. And then I found out that it isn’t what it’s cracked up to be. First off I found that instead of my husband and I doing things separately, we began to do them together. Have an appointment to see a doctor in Peoria? We go together. Need to go to Barnes and Noble? We go together. Volunteering to help some group out? We do it together. So instead of two people doing two different things, there were two people doing one thing.

Next eye opener was that I was available for babysitting. Now, don’t get me wrong. I LOVE my grandchildren! And I’m willing to babysit* anytime I’m asked. If it weren’t for babysitting, I would hardly know those wonderful little people. We’ve become friends, and that’s downright precious. But it did cut into my “free” time.

Then there was a personality problem. I am absolutely incapable of belonging to a group and not DOING something! I can’t keep my mouth shut. I can’t keep my hand down. I can’t say “no.” So pretty soon I was up to my neck in volunteerism.** I’ve had to make some hard choices, and one of them is to simply not go to any new meetings. I know that if I do, I’ll be right in the midst of running them, and life’s too short for that. I’ve had to choose a couple that I really like, and say no to all the rest. It sounds like I have that all under control, but not so. I’m still in too many organizations and over-volunteered.

I’ve made a big decision. I’m going to retire! I’m going to do what I want to do when I want to do it! Yeah, right.

* In yesterday’s blog I talked about spell-check. My mighty computer doesn’t like my spelling of “babysit.” It wants to put in a hyphen. It doesn’t even know that “blog” exists! I guess it’s not so smart after all.
** My mighty computer DID know “volunteerism”, however. You gotta be impressed!

Smart Computers and Me

2008-09-09T18:29:00.000-07:00

I know my computer is really smart. It thinks, you see. When I do something wrong, it immediately tells me about it. Smart little booger. It’s especially fond of little wiggly red lines that it sprinkles across everything I type. Now, of course, it’s gotten even smarter, and it puts little squiggly green lines under words here and there. Sometimes I can even figure out what it thinks I have done wrong.
There is a problem though. It sometimes does things I don’t want it to do! And I’m not smart enough to figure out how to stop it. For example, if I type something like “No. 1” it thinks, “Ah ha! My person is making a list!” and it immediately indents the stuff I’ve just typed and adds a “2”. Fine and dandy, but I didn’t WANT a 2! I didn’t want it indented either. I know how to slap it’s hand and change things to the way I want them, but I get really tired of doing it over and over.
Then there’s the little box that flashes up at the end of a name when I’m making an index. It wants to do some formatting all on its own, and I don’t want it that way. The other day I finally got around to experimenting, and I found the place where I could turn off the automatic formatting. I still haven’t found out whether or not I have to change that setting on every new document.
Then there’s automatic spell checking. Last week Jim was typing up a story about the Eureka Reagan Fest. Our two new-car dealers had their new cars downtown on a side street. Jim typed in that “Leman Chevrolet” was in attendance. I was watching over his shoulder, and I said, “Leman Shovelers?” Turns out that his intelligent computer didn’t know what Chevrolet was, and it substituted its closest alternate. Shovelers???
Now, MY computer doesn’t know what “shovelers” is. I know because there’s this little red squiggly line under it.

Pie In the Face Is Not Funny

2008-05-20T18:31:00.000-07:00

I keep hoping and hoping that the “Got Milk” magazine ads will go away, but they don’t. In my new issue of Better Homes and Gardens, there’s this woman in a black leotard with that gosh-awful white stuff painted over her upper lip. Gross! I guess I’m supposed to know who the woman is and be impressed that she drinks milk. All those ads do for me is to make me turn the page fast so I don’t have to look at them.

A few pages before that milk ad there was one of a baby in a high chair with food smeared all over his/her face, hair, hands, arms, and the chair. It’s supposed to be funny and cute. I found it repulsive. I couldn’t stand looking at it long enough to figure out that it was advertising some kind of paper towel. Jim figured that out for me when I griped to him about the ad.

Which brings me to all those “cute” photos of babies and their first birthday cakes. What’s cute about making fun of a little kid’s inexperience and inability to managed forks? I don’t have any pictures like that of my kids, because I didn’t think it was something they would want to be reminded of when they were teenagers. I wonder if they appreciate my thoughtfulness?

And since I’m on this soap box, I’m going to have my say about those awful wedding reception shots where the bride or groom crams the cake all over the face of his/her new spouse. Personally, I don’t think that bodes well for their relationship. Any groom who would so mess up his wife’s make-up at a time when she really needs to be pretty is not likely to be caring and thoughtful during their married lives. And any bride who would so demean her new husband is a fool. It takes a lot of kindness and thoughtfulness to make a marriage work, and a couple can never start that learning process too soon.

Remember the pie-in-the face gags? Why do people think they're funny? If that were to happen to me, I would be infuriated. I could watch Soupy Sales or Sid Caesar until they got to plastering some boob with a pie, and then I used my ultimate weapon. I changed the station.

Note to friends and family: Don't EVER even consider pitching something into my face!

Teenagers Are Good For Something!

2008-05-03T16:59:00.001-07:00

So Where Did They Go?
Or The Mysterious Disappearances at Our House

I’m beginning to see that there are definite advantages to having kids living here. At least, there is one advantage: they can take the blame for things that disappear.

Case in point: I have already told you about thinning out my plastic kitchen storage containers. (It hurt to throw those odd lids away, but I did it!) I went to the store and bought all Ziplock storage containers. That way I wouldn’t have to search for a lid to fit a container. There are just 3 sizes of lids and they fit 4 sizes of containers. It’s a great plan and it ought to have brought me great peace of mind: Select a container, open the drawer with the lids, pick out a lid, and put it on the container.

Well, it doesn’t seem to work that way. Tonight I needed a small container for one serving of creamed peas and potatoes. (Yes, I will eat this leftover.) I found the little round container (one of three identical containers on the shelf), opened the lid drawer, and there’s no lid that size. There was a smaller round lid, but no container that it matches. Now where did it come from? So what happened to the three round lids? And where’s the smaller container? And why are there only 3 round containers when I bought them in a set of 4. (Ordinarily I would think I had some stuff stored in the container in the refrigerator, undoubtedly growing lovely hair, but I just emptied all the stored stuff from the refrigerator 2 days ago.)

Second case in point: When Middle Daughter was at Wesleyan, we got her a set of cheap-o silverware with dark green plastic handles. (Or was it Youngest Daughter at Millikin??) Anyway, when the girl (whichever one it was) graduated, she brought the things home and they got mixed in with our other silverware. Jim decided that these particular spoons were perfect for eating cereal in the morning. At first there were 6 of them. Then there were 5, but Boy Child was still living here, and he probably lost it in his room somewhere. Ditto #4. But then Boy Child left, and slowly but surely the spoons are disappearing. There’s only one left. So where did the others go?

You see how handy it is to have kids around. You never have to worry your mind over where things have gone. “The kids have them.” “The kids lost them.” “The kids probably dumped them in the can when they scraped their plates into the garbage” Wait. That won’t work. They NEVER cleaned their plates off! That would be too close to doing dishes, and that’s strictly someone else’s job.

So you who still have kids at home and who are counting the days until they are gone and peace returns to your lives, remember that there is at least one good thing that comes from having them live with you. This isn't enough to make them worth it, but it is a little consolation.

Ongepotchket

2008-04-19T13:04:00.000-07:00

I sometimes get to feeling like I have a pretty good vocabulary. Then I come upon a word that I have never even seen before let along having used it or knowing what it means. The latest word to add to my list is Ongepotchket.

Mitzi in The Poet's Funeral (by John M. Daniel) named her publishing company Ongepotchket. It took me half the book to figure out that the word had a meaning besides what it was given by the author. So after I finished reading the book, I Googled the word. In Yiddish it means decorating something up so much that it's ugly. The concept certainly isn't foreign to me. I think I've even been guilty of ongepotchket a few times in my life. Maybe my annual Christmas tree is an example. Certainly the typical "tourist purse" of the 60s and 70s was ongepotchket. Remember all the rhinestones, flowers, kittens and other trim that adorned those monstrosities? Incidentally, those gaudy items bring hefty prices at auctions these days.

Sometimes I hear a new word and for days I'll see that word pop up everywhere. I'll bet this will not be one of those times. What do you think?

Pokeweed

2008-04-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

Mrs. Child (The Frugal American Housewife) has this to say about poke-root:

“Poke-root, boiled in water and mixed with a good quantity of molasses, set about the kitchen, the pantry, &c in large deep plates, will kill cockroaches in great numbers, and finally rid the house of them. The Indians say that poke-root boiled into a soft poultice is a cure for the bite of a snake. I have heard of a fine horse saved by it.”

If you ever have poke weed poke its way into your garden, you will learn to hate it. It’s a plant that looks pretty when it comes up. It’s so vital and fresh and green. It grows so luxuriantly and makes a fine-looking bush. Its flowers are ornamental and prolific, and the dark purple berries that follow are really lovely. What a nice bush it is! But appearances are deceiving. Once it gets a toehold, it’s exceptionally hard to get rid of. Round-up will seem to kill it, but given a couple of months, the weed will come up twice as strong. There’s a big patch on our neighbor’s farm and we all wish he would get rid of it....maybe with a flame thrower.

I did a little research on poke weed, enough to know that it’s very dangerous. Even “boiling in two waters” isn’t enough to remove all the toxins, and every year it claims some lives in the South where people still think it’s good to eat. The berries are attractive to children, and extremely deadly. If you have children, get rid of the pokeweed NOW. Even handling the plant is dangerous. Wear protective clothing and gloves when you’re pulling it up. (It has a tap root that is strong and long.)

On the other hand, in Wikipedia I learned some interesting facts. “Pokeweed berries yield a red ink or dye, which was once used by Native Americans to decorate their horses. The United States Declaration of Independence was written in fermented pokeberry juice (hence the common name 'inkberry'). Many letters written home during the American Civil War were written in pokeberry ink; the writing in these surviving letters appears brown. The red juice has also been used to symbolize blood, as in the anti-slavery protest of Benjamin Lay. A rich brown dye can be made by soaking fabrics in fermenting berries in a hollowed-out pumpkin.

So reading an 1830 book is interesting, but following its advice without some research can be harmful to your health.

Cucumbers Then and Now

2008-04-14T13:12:00.000-07:00

It’s been awhile since I have commented on Mrs. Child’s book, the Frugal American Housewife. It’s time to remedy that lapse. On page 18 she continues her advice for the 1830 housewife:

“It is thought to be a preventive to the unhealthy influence of cucumbers to cut the slices very thin, and drop each one into cold water as you cut it. A few minutes in the water takes out a large portion of the slimy matter, so injurious to health. They should be eaten with high seasoning.”

Now, I don’t know that I’ve really thought about the “slimy substance” before. I guess the jelly-like stuff around the seeds could be called slimy though. And don’t you wonder how the cucumber gained the reputation for being injurious to your health?

In my grandparents day cucumbers were always served peeled. Jim’s grandmother, Mertie Donoho Greenwalt said that the “peelings would kill ‘ya!” She would be appalled to see sliced cucumbers served with a rim of dark green peeling still on them.

I don’t know what Mrs. Child meant by “high seasoning,” but I know that most of the people in days gone by sliced cucumbers and onions into a brine of vinegar, salt and water. Some added sugar, but our family didn’t. For years my husband wouldn’t eat a raw cucumber, but he loved the brined ones his mother made.

Have you noticed that vegetables today that are often eaten raw would never have been served uncooked in the first half the 20th Century? Think about broccoli, asparagus, mushrooms, cauliflower, and squash. Today we eat them raw as often as we eat them cooked. How times have changed!

What My Husband Isn't and Is

2008-04-13T17:38:00.000-07:00

We’ve been married for almost 49 years, and I think we’re pretty happy with each other. I doubt that either of us would say we’re perfect, but we’ve managed to mesh together well. We’ve learned to ignore things we don’t like and really enjoy the things we do like. A few years ago it was popular to list what a “real man is,” and I began to mentally compile a list of the things I really liked about Jim. I’ve added to it over time, and I’ll undoubtedly add a few more as I think of them. Here’s a partial list:

I’m glad my husband doesn’t:
Drink
Smoke
Gamble
Run around with other women
Have nights out with the guys
Ride a motorcycle
Golf
Go fishing
Go camping
Go hunting
Vacation at the beach
Own a boat
Cook in my kitchen
Wear plaid pants or white shoes
Tell dirty jokes (he leaves that to me)
Swear in public
Waste money sending me flowers

Now what do I like about my husband? I’m glad he:

Has a great sense of humor (the first trait I noticed and liked when we met)
Is a good father
Is a good role model
Is kind and thoughtful
Is generous
Is a computer guru (how else would I keep my computer working?)
Is easy to talk to
Stops whenever I need a pee break when we’re traveling
Will stop and ask for directions if we’re lost
Likes family get-togethers
Adores his grandchildren
Likes cats (and a few specific dogs)
Has a wonderful set of siblings
Will eat anything I cook as long as it doesn’t have broccoli, Brussels sprouts, asparagus or cauliflower in it.

Birthday Parties, a Comparison

2008-04-10T11:22:00.000-07:00

I got to thinking awhile back that birthday parties "ain't what they used to be." Now I'm wondering if everyone else has the same disconnect between the parties they were given as a child and parties kids enjoy today.

I'll have to admit that I don't recall a specific birthday party when I was little. I know there was some sort of celebration. My Grandma Hammond would never pass up the chance to be festive. But I simply don't have any vivid images of those events. I remember a little about parties in general back then.

There would be just a few kids invited, maybe 6 or 8 at the most. There would be cake and ice cream, and everyone would bring a wrapped gift to the birthday kid. Then there would be organized games: pin the tail on the donkey, spin the bottle, who's got the thinble, etc. The gifts were never very elaborate or expensive. Even the host family didn't give the birthday child more than 2 presents. The whole party would last a little over an hour and then the other kids would go home.

That was birthday parties in the 40's and 50's. In the 60's when my children were little, parties were a little more elaborate. I had read in a Family Circle or Woman's Day (the sources of much of my knowledge in those days) that you could set a rule that each child could invite as many children as he/she was old. So a 6-year-old would invite 6 children; a thirteen-year-old would invite 13. We used that rule for all our kids, and it worked out quite well. When the kids were small and more or less unruly, you'd have few of them to contend with. As they got older you could handle more bodies, because they were more able to take care of themselves. I was never very good at organizing games kids liked to play, so the parties weren't quite as "managed" as they had been when I was little. The kids just did whatever they thought was fun (within reason, of course). There was still cake and ice cream, but now we tended to give our children more gifts, and it was not uncommon to give each guest a small token to take home with him/her.

Birthdays in our family today have taken on a whole 'nother atmosphere. They are BIG productions! They're an excuse for a family reunion and a reason for friends to gather. At least that's what they have morphed into in our family. Every member of the family, extended or otherwise, is invited. Friends of the parents are welcome. Children abound. It's not unusual for these fetes to have 30 people present. There's lots of food, not just ice cream and cake. In fact, the cake seems almost an afterthought. Everyone eats, talks, laughs, and has a great old time. Kids go off to play in the toy fields of the host family. There are more presents for the birthday child than there are at Christmas, and those presents are not "token" gifts either. Everyone has a wonderful time, and the birthday child knows that his/her day was something special.

I wonder if anyone in our family today would tolerate the meager party trappings of the birthday celebrations that I had as a child. I’m personally not unhappy with the changes, but it seems to me that big blow-outs like we currently stage are awfully hard on the hosting family …to say nothing of their budgets. That said, I’m always going to try to be present for birthday parties. They’re a blast.

In's and Out's of Language

2008-03-12T18:42:00.000-07:00

The way language changes fascinates me. This article is funny and enlightening.

The Last Page – Smithsonian Magazine, March 2008-p.112
Electrocybertronics: Marketing Through Pseudoscience by Alex Boese

Want to put your company or product on the cutting edge of science? Simple. Add a trendy prefix or suffix to its name. But beware: what linguistic fashion raises up, it can also bring down.
Electric. In the 19th century, electricity represented the future, so marketers affixed “electro” prefixes to any and everything. Consumers could purchase Dr. Hallock’s Electric Polishing Powder for touching up your silver. Such products shared a common trait: they had absolutely nothing to do with electricity, though just thinking about the Galvano-Electric Regenerator (“a certain cure for Spermatorrhea, Impotency, Seminal Losses, etc.”) must have caused some to feel tingly all over. At least electro-lumps—a marketer’s brainstorm for coal—could actually generate electric current.
-ex. How or why the “-ex” suffix came to be associated with things scientific has baffled researchers. (One theory holds that it evokes such highbrow, Latin-derived technical terms as “convex” and “cortex.”) During the first half of the 20th century, -ex’s multiplied like wire hangers in a coat closet: Pyrex, Sinex, Playtex—and let’s not forget Kleenex. But progress marches on and recent decades have favored a new and improved version: “-ix.” Thus, we now have Technix (a manufacturer of rubber and plastic products) and even --double or nothing—Solarix Intellectronix (a search engine). In 2005, a European court dismissed a trademark infringement case brought by publishers of the Asterix comic strip against MobiliX software project. With this legal hurdle cleared, ixpect an –ix-filled insistence.
-ola. During the early 20th century, manufacturers decided that “-ola” would add a warm glow of technological competence to audio and electronic products—despite an unfortunate association with such infectious diseases as rubeola. The fad began with a player piano trademarked in 1900 as Pianola. (Arthur Loesser, a piano historian, said the suffix “sounded easily mechanical, playfully pleasant.”) Then, along came Victrola, Radiola, Rock-Ola, Moviola and Motorola. But “ola” fell out of favor during the “payola” radio scandals of the 1960s (until the food industry resurrected it for a range of wholesome, nutritious wannabes such as Bran’nola and canola).
-tronics. In its April 1961 issue, Time magazine noted that “a stock whose name suggests either electronics or technical mystery seems sure to have a jump in price.” Certainly “-tronics” were everywhere: Radiatronics, Eltronics and Powerton Ultrasonics. This magical suffix did not prevent many of such companies from short-circuiting when the –tronics stock bubble ultimately burst in 1962.
Cyber-. Author William Gibson is usually credited, or blamed, for the “cyber” prefix because he introduced the concept of “cyberspace” in his 1984 novel Neuromancer. By the mid-1990s, cyber-mania was in full swing, producing such oddities as Chanel’s Cyber Glow cosmetics and designer Betsey Johnson’s “Suzie Cyber” fashion line, despite, one journalist noted, that “in cyberspace no one can see what you’re wearing.” By the end of the decade, cyber-nausea had set in and overusers of the term were banished to Cyberia.
Nano- Lately the prefix trend has been shrinking. During the 1980s, “mini-“ gave way to “micro-,” which has yielded to “nano-.” In the new millennium, companies such as Nanometrics, Nanogen and NanoPierce Technologies have all embraced the prefix, despite complaints their products were hardly nano-scale (a billionth of a meter or smaller). Even Eddie Bauer sells stain-resistant nano-pants. (They’re available in extra-large” for the retailer’s not-so-nano customers.) Proceeding down the scale leads one inexorably to yocto-, a metric prefix meaning one-septillionth. If you’re thinking of trademarking yocto, you’d better move fast, before the iPod Yocto appears on store shelves.

Alex Boese is the author of Hippo Eats Dwarf: A Field Guide to Hoaxes and Other B. S. (Harcourt, 2006). He lives in San Diego.

Choose "Cool"

2008-03-07T07:53:00.000-08:00

Whether you like Barack Obama or not, there is a gloss of celebrity that coats him. Can you believe that people would actually vote for someone because they think he's handsome? Well, yeah. They did it when Kennedy was running, didn't they?

The middle school kids at my grandson's school are all "for Obama." They "hate Clinton." Why? Well, because he's cool, and she's not. Unfortunately for our country there are a lot of grown-ups who are selecting our next president on the basis of "cool" alone.

World's Greatest Hand Cream

2008-03-06T17:49:00.000-08:00

Every winter, all winter, I have problems with cracks in the skin of my thumb right beside the nail. I know you know what I mean, because everyone else has the same problem. Sometimes I have hangnails. Everyone knows about hangnails, too.

Well, there is a cure, a solution. The answer to a maiden's prayer ---oops, that's something else--is No-Crack Hand Cream. It's made by the Dumont Company (not DuPont) in LaCrosse, Wisconsin, and it's terrific.

I got my first jar of it many years ago at Smith's Drug Store in Peoria. It comes in three forms, All-Purpose, Day, and Night. They had little sample jars of the Day cream at Smith's Drugs for $.69 a jar. After I tried it out, I went back and bought enough to give everyone in my church a jar and put one in every Christmas stocking that year. About once a year since then I'd go back and buy another supply, even taking orders from people at church.

Well, now I'm just about out of the Night Cream, and Smith's Drug Store has gone out of business! It's not sold on-line as far as I can determine, and I'm trying to get a local beauty shop to stock it. There are three other places in Peoria that carry it, but all three are really inconvenient to get to.

If you're interested in ending your cracked winter skin or hangnail problem, go to the internet and look up nocrack.com to find out where it can be purchased near you. You'll be glad you did!

Sour Dough and I

2008-03-05T18:37:00.000-08:00

I have a long love-affair with sourdough bread. Unfortunately, I don't have much luck getting my affair going again. Years ago I made bread and biscuits and pancakes all the time. The aroma was stunning.

I sent to Goldrush (through the internet) and got some starter yeast. It looked just like dried yeast. At first things went just fine, but then the whole thing seemed to slow to a crawl, and there weren't many bubbles. I thought maybe I was feeding it too often. Then maybe I wasn't using the right combination of flour/water/etc. Maybe it was too cool....or too warm. Or maybe I stirred it too much.

Today Mrs. Depleume sent me a site that is the cat's pajamas (to quote a new term). It's got pictures that show what the stuff is supposed to look like. And it tells how to get started, how to know if the stuff needs more food, and what each stage of the mixing of the bread should look like. There's also pictures of the finished product. Never in all my infatuation with Mr. Dough did I ever have a loaf that looked that beautiful!

I notice that she talks about a few pieces of equipment that I don't have: bell, stone, Wal-Mart plastic spoon, and a couple I don't recognize and can't recall. Maybe if I get all the equipment, I'll be successful again.

So tonight I fed my starter a hefty dose of flour and water and put it in the oven with the oven light on. Now that I know what Sour Dough likes, I may be able to have successful bread again.

For those of you who want to visit the wonderful sourdough bread site, I've included it in my list of good sites on the right pane of this blog.

I'm Sick of Green

2008-02-26T13:59:00.000-08:00

I’m sick of a lot of things: Barbie and Ken news commentators; scummy celebrities (from Prince Charles right on down); the way the minority rules in our country right now; a governor who is an embarrassment; a ribald joke of an ex-president; unbalanced reporting by the mainstream media, and “going green.”

It isn’t that I don’t like the color green. It’s one of my favorites, especially when it’s the color of leaves on trees (when I’m currently seeing nothing but winter-brown grass covered with snow and ice). I’m sick of this whole “green movement.”

An extreme example is the ridiculous concept of “carbon offsets.” The idea that you can go ahead and operate your billion-dollar corporate (or personal) jet to fly from here to there on a whim, and then you can offset that tremendous expenditure of carbon fuels and horrendous outpouring of exhaust gasses by simply paying some entity a big sum of money. Since when does lining someone’s pockets with money help to “save the environment”? And who is it that is getting the money? Peta? Whale watchers? Global Warming Enthusiasts? You can bet that it’s not reaching the rest of us who live ordinary lives and try our darndest to leave as small a footprint on this earth as we sensibly can.

I have yet to hear of a “green campaign” that didn’t turn out to be a hoax. Hybrid cars? They use up more fossil fuels providing the electricity that keeps them charged. Using dishes instead of disposable plates/cups/etc? So where do you think that dish-washing liquid comes from? Renewable sources of energy? Every one of them is more expensive to the environment once you dig beneath the surface statistics that are supposed to fool you. Gasahol? It’s nice for corn producers, but that corn has to be turned into alcohol, and that doesn’t happen with the flick of a wand. The list goes on and on.

And on a completely trivial and frivolous front, I don’t like the greens that are being forced on us as the “in” colors. Lime green and olive for living room walls? Come on! That’s a disgusting combination! Lime green and turquoise? We struggled through that combination in the 70s, and it’s no happier a marriage of color now than it was then.

I’d better quit this diatribe so I don’t have to go buy some carbon offsets for using up the airwaves (and the electricity it takes to run my laptop).

Smiles for Similes

2008-02-23T12:34:00.000-08:00

There was a time when my Cousin Joy and I were stay-at-home moms, and we wrote to each other every week. We got so desparate for adult conversation that we set out to use big words as often as we could in our letters.

At some point we both decided to collect similies. Don't remember your literature? A simile is a comparison of two things using the words "like" or "as." A couple of examples are "slow as molasses in January," "She looked like the wrath of God," and "snug as a bug in a rug."

Over the years I wrote the similes I found in the margins of a book that was a collection of them. After I moved, I couldn't find the book, so I've just jotted them down on pieces of paper. Every once in awhile I come across one, and I get another chuckle out of it.

I remember when Jim's brother was going through his divorce, and he was so upset. He would visit us and unload about how he felt. It was very sad. The trouble was that he is a very humorous guy, and he would use these similes that would be so funny, I couldn't keep from bursting out laughing. My laughter was so inappropriate, but it was impossible not to laugh. The first one I remember was "slippery as snot on a glass door knob." Here I sit laughing so hard that tears have formed in my eyes. I wish I had recorded all of them that he said.

The other night I was finishing M. C. Beaton's book Death of a Gentle Lady, and up popped a simile I just had to save: “…her eyelashes were so heavily mascaraed, it looked as if two large spiders had found a home in her face.”

So now I'm starting over again to collect similes. Anyone want to join me?

Incidentally, if you can't get the comment thing to work, send your comments to my email, kdfyke@mchsi.com.

Oh, Those Orphaned Lids!

2008-02-21T08:20:00.000-08:00

This frugality thing can be carried too far, especially for those of us who don’t routinely clear out our storage places.

This morning I tackled the plastic lid box. When we got new kitchen cabinets a few years ago, we bought roll-out racks on all the lower cabinets. As 2-year-old Pete says, “I lub ‘em.” To keep them “organized,” I put boxes or baskets on them to hold whatever is supposed to be on the shelf.

Over the years I’ve just tossed still-good plastic lids in a box on the lower shelf of a cabinet in the pantry. It got so I couldn’t find any lid I was looking for, so I added a counter-top box, which quickly filled to capacity. Today I weeded out about 7/8th of them, figuring I only needed 9 McDonalds large drink lids, 10 McDonalds coffee lids, 10 from Hucks, etc. I’m certain I don’t have many of the cups left…I hope.

In the process of sorting, I found the lids to several travel mugs. I thought those lids were long gone…..although I knew for certain that I had not intentionally thrown them away. Now those orphaned mugs can be put to use again. (Do I really NEED 7 plastic travel mugs???)

I also found about 20 sturdy lids that went to plastic containers of different sizes, shapes, and age. I can almost remember some of the containers, but I haven’t seen them in years. Now comes the hard part: I have to throw away those lids! And I KNOW that within a month I will find the container, and the lid will be gone.

Now, logic and common sense tell me that if I have not had lid+container in the recent past, I do not need that set. Still, my frugal (or crazy) nature abhors the thought of throwing those perfectly good lids away. But I’ll do it. Yes, I will. Yup, I’m on my way to the kitchen right now to pitch them in the trash…..or not. Tune in next time to find out if Karen still has a cupboard full of sturdy, orphaned lids!

Holy Ghost Lady

2008-02-20T17:20:00.000-08:00

When I started this blog, I didn't really know much about blogs or what was expected of me. I could NOT think of a nifty name for my blog. Nothing sounded like ME. Well, now I've thought of something, and it's too late. I'm already signed on as Karendelane. Boring!

When we went to West Bluff Christian Church in West Peoria, IL, I taught a lot of Sunday School. I got the idea that we would teach the kids the Gloria Patri and the Doxology, since those were sung in every church service, and it seemed logical that kids would enjoy being able to join in. Naturally the words of those two song-lets are very unusual to kids.

After a few weeks we were making progress, and the kidlings were finally getting the hang of it. One Sunday I was absent, and one of the five-year-olds asked, "Where's the Holy Ghost Lady?"

Now, there's a good blog name! Holy Ghost Lady! Why didn't I think of that last year?

Well Water

2008-02-16T08:26:00.000-08:00

“In winter, always set the handle of your pump as high as possible, before you go to bed. Except in very rigid weather, this keeps the handle from freezing. When there is reason to apprehend extreme cold do not forget to throw a rug or horse-blanket over your pump; a frozen pump is a comfortless preparation for a winter’s breakfast.” (Mrs. Child in American Frugal Housewife)

When I grew up in New Boston, we got our water from a pump. It stood on the lot line between our house and the neighbors’ so it was used by both. I remember how you had to work the handle up and down several times before it would start to bring up water, and I always worried that it wouldn’t work this time. Once you had the water coming, each time the handle was pushed down, water would gush from the spout into the bucket. It was beautiful!

And the water was the best I’ve ever tasted. New Boston sits on sand and near the Mississippi River. I don’t think the well was very deep at all, and all the sand served as a strainer and purifier, I guess. I wish that I had that kind of water in my house today!

Our well water was terrific, BUT you had to go get it, pump it, and bring the bucket back to the house. I like to think that I was in charge of bringing in the bucket every day, but I doubt if that was true. I got away with doing very few chores. Nevertheless it was common for Grandma to say, “Karen, go get a bucket of water,” and I don’t remember ever getting out of it.

Hygiene wasn’t the same then as it is now. The white enamel bucket sat on the corner of the counter with a long-handled enamel dipper placed in it. When you were thirsty, you drank right from the dipper. Sounds like everyone drinking from the same dipper is a nasty, dirty practice, but I don’t think we were any more likely to share germs that way than we were by living in the same enclosed airspace.

The place where that well was located is now in the middle of a carwash. I can't go back to get another drink of that wonderful water. Oh well.

1/4 PF + 1/3 wb + 1/4 hw = Too Much

2008-02-12T15:51:00.000-08:00

Frugality is a good thing, but it takes practice. I managed to think of something to do with the 1/4 loaf of Pepperidge Farm bread, but then I found a 1/3 loaf of sliced white bread that had grown some mold. Win some, lose some. There's still a 1/4 loaf of honey wheat (boughten) bread there. I'm almost afraid to look to see if it's moldy. I need to get this bread GONE, so I can make some bread...in my bread machine, of course. I'm not too good on the kneading thing.

Tonight for supper I made up a small batch of sage dressing, poured cream of chicken soup over it and nestled two boneless chicken breasts on top. Baked it for about 40 minutes. Came out really tasty....and the Pepperidge Farm bread got used up before it molded. That's a first.

The birds (mostly starlings, of course) thought my bread plentitude was right on! They may get a bunch of honey wheat tomorrow...if I get up the courage to see if it's molded yet.

My mother (frugal to the bone) always kept her bread in the refrigerator (I almost said "ice box.") I think she got in the habit when Father was baking bread right and left, faster than they could eat it up. The bread didn't mold as quickly, but it always seemed drier than that left in plastic bags on the counter. After Father died, there was only her to eat up a loaf of bread, so into the frige it went. I never heard her complain, but I don't like refrigerator stored bread.

Mrs. Child on Bread

2008-02-11T14:24:00.000-08:00

Now here’s an example of real frugality:

“As far as it is possible, have bits of bread eaten up before they become hard. Spread those that are not eaten, and let them dry, to be pounded for puddings, or soaked for brewis. Brewis is made of crusts and dry pieces of bread, soaked a good while in hot milk, mashed up, and salted, and buttered like toast. Above all, do not let crusts accumulate in such quantities that they cannot be used. With proper care, there is no need of losing a particle of bread, even in the hottest weather.” (p. 8 of American Frugal Housewife, 1833)

Right now on my counter are 2 partial loaves of bread, and I doubt if we will get them used before one or the other is infested with mold. I love bread! I want to try every loaf of bread on the store shelves. I want to make bread in my bread machine. I want to have buns on hand when I need them, and packages of Crescent rolls and Grands in the refrigerator. Trouble is that there are only two of us in the house, and both of us are supposed to be watching our weights.

My favorite bread was the sourdough bread I used to make when I still had the “starter.” The smell of that bread rising and baking was wonderful. Eventually I got tired of feeding the starter when I knew I wasn’t going to have time to make the bread, so I threw the starter out. I wish I hadn’t. It’s hard to get real sour dough starter going again. I’ve heard you can do it by putting yeast in some water and letting it sit out on the counter for a couple of days. I’ve also heard that this starter isn’t strong enough to support the weight of the bread. I suppose you can always add more regular yeast in addition to the sourdough starter, but I haven’t tried it yet.

When I’m pretty sure we’re not going to finish a partial loaf of bread or a lone roll, I crumble it up and put it out for the birds. Of course, the birds who mostly profit from this feast are starlings, but I don’t really care. They’re funny to watch, and if they didn’t congregate in such huge numbers, no one would mind them being around. More about starlings another day.

All in all, I’m glad I don’t live in the day when bread was so precious that we had to hoard every single crumb.

Nora's Doll Clothes

2008-02-09T09:04:00.001-08:00

I admire frugality. That said, I didn't make Nora's birthday doll clothes out of scraps because it's frugal. The blue of the pants, jacket and skirt are blue flannel that I used to make Nigel's Superman suit last Halloween. The purple print that I used for the blouse as well as the one for the dress are the scraps from a dresses I made Nora last summer. You can buy nice doll clothes fabric, but you can't buy memories.

Furnishing Your Home the Frugal Way

2008-02-07T18:01:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Child says, “If you are about to furnish a house, do not spend all your money, be it much or little. Do not let the beauty of this thing, and the cheapness of that, tempt you to buy unnecessary articles. …Buy merely enough to get along with at first. It is only by experience that you can tell what will be the wants of your family. If you spend all your money, you will find you have purchased many things you do not want, and have no means left to get many things which you do want. If you have enough, and more than enough, to get everything suitable to your situation, do not think you must spend it all, merely because you happen to have it. Begin humbly

“Neatness, tastefulness, and good sense, may be shown in the management of a small household, and the arrangement of a little furniture, as well as upon a larger scale; and these qualities are always praised, and always treated with respect and attention. The consideration which many purchase by living beyond their income, and of course living upon others, is not worth the trouble it costs.

“ To what are the increasing beggary and discouraged exertions of the present period [1832] owing? A multitude of causes have no doubt tended to increase the evil; but the root of the whole matter is the extravagance of all classes of people. … Let women do their share towards reformation—…Let them prove, by the exertion of ingenuity and economy, that neatness, good taste, and gentility, are attainable without great expense.”

I don’t think I ever set out to be thrifty in my purchases for the house. In fact, I can only think of a few things that we bought new. One was a hide-a-bed when we were first married, because our apartment was three rooms of a big old house and there was no proper bedroom. The color of the Nylon frise fabric was a light mauve, not our favorite for sure, but it’s all there was available at Cohen’s Furniture Store when we went shopping. We lugged that heavy old monster from place to place until finally we gave it to Jim's folks.

In Kansas City we bought a Boston rocker that was never really comfortable. I got it because I thought it would be good for rocking babies to sleep, but the darned thing tended to creep back as you rocked, which necessitated a baby-jarring lurch forward every once in awhile. We still have that chair, although one of the back rungs is broken. It's still not comfortable.

We also bought a desk from Montgomery Wards while we were in Kansas City. Jim was taking courses at the U. of Missouri at Kansas City and needed a place to study. One of the kids has that desk now.

When we lived in Kent, Ohio, we bought a table and chairs and another rocker. Robin has the table now, and most of the chairs are broken. They were the most comfortable of all our “kitchen” chairs though. The platform rocker was of a dark teal nylon fabric that was rough on un-sleeved elbows. The ball-bearing arrangement that made the chair swivel kept breaking. I think we replaced it 5 times. The last time Jim did it, he put in another board or something, and ever after that the chair let everyone in the house know it was being sat in. I’ve wanted to put it on the curb so someone can adopt it, but Bradley insists he wants it. He says it’s the perfect video game chair. Something about the arms being just the right height for holding the control gizmo.

In Kent Jim bought me a Baldwin piano. Oh, I have loved that piano! I gave it to Robin last year when he got me a Yamaha electric piano. In many ways the old one was best, but it sure is fun to have all those different sounds by just pushing buttons.

After we moved back to Peoria I selected another hide-a-bed. This one is from Ethan Allen and we have it still….and I still like it. The cover is gray, but I don’t hold that against it.

I guess we’ve bought other new furniture: a studio bed for Susan, mattresses and springs, an “entertainment center,” etc. But most of the furniture that clogs my house is hand-me-downs or auction finds. I look at other people who buy complete sets of new furniture and I wonder if I could ever do that. I don’t think so. There’s something comforting about living with “found treasures.”

So, if you’re just starting out, don’t buy all new furniture. Like Mrs. Childs says, buy what you absolutely must have and add other things as you go along.

Save one-fourth of all you earn.

2008-02-02T07:52:00.000-08:00

Page 4 of the American Frugal Housewife

“It is wise to keep an exact account of all you expend—even of a paper of pins. This answers two purposes; it makes you more careful in spending money, and it enables your husband to judge precisely whether his family live within his income. No false pride, or foolish ambition to appear as well as others, should ever induce a person to live one cent beyond the income of which he is certain. If you have two dollars a day, let nothing but sickness induce you to spend more than nine shillings; if you have one dollar a day, do not spend but seventy-five cents; if you have half a dollar a day, be satisfied to spend forty cents.”

Does it frighten you when you go shopping and see that you have spent $100 without really noticing it? Groceries, drug store items, pet supplies, laundry detergent, paper supplies…they add up so very fast. I once had a little clicker-dealie that would keep track of how much I had in my grocery cart. It was really low-tech, but it worked fine…as long as I didn’t get distracted and forget whether I had entered something or not. The same problem occurs with calculators. I suppose some people have little computers that will tell them what they’ve entered, but I don’t. I sometimes try to keep a mental rough tally. None of these things, however, keep me from buying things I don’t really need.

I think frugality in spending is a mind-set. If you feel well-off, you don’t need to keep track of things or say “no” to things. On the other hand, if you know that your financial situation is precarious, you’re more likely to think before you buy. I’m told that this kind of thinking becomes a habit. Living through the Great Depression certainly impressed this mind-set on my mother! She’d pick something up and look and the price, then put it back and say, “I don’t need that.” I don’t want to be as penny-pinching as she was, but I can certainly do better than I do.

Save one-fourth of our income? Whew! That’s asking a lot. I’ll have to do some powerful thinking on this item of Mrs. Child’s Frugal Housewife advice.

Children's Chores

2008-02-01T08:23:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Child, that Frugal Housewife of 1832, advises us to have children do lots of things for themselves. She says,

“Children can early be taught to take all the care of their clothes.
They can knit garters, suspenders, and stockings; they can make patchwork and braid straw; they can make mats for the table, and mats for the floor; they can weed the garden, and pick cranberries from the meadow, to be carried to market.”

Well, that was 175 years ago, and things are a bit different now. I can tell you that I never let my kids get near the washer and dryer! Not because I didn’t like to do the job (see Jan. 31 blog), but because I didn’t want them to wreck those precious machines. My Aunt Mary said that every time she went by her dryer, she patted it and thanked it for being there. I understand totally. I never wanted the kids to use my iron either. I remember when I was a teenager and Mother was a registered nurse who wore starched white uniforms every day. She never wanted me to use (or abuse) the iron, and she DEFINITELY didn’t want me to iron her uniforms. So you can bet that’s exactly what I WANTED to do. Maybe that’s why I’ve always liked ironing?!

Anyway, how could kids today take care of their own clothing? I suppose it’s not too much to ask that they take their dirty laundry to the laundry room. I’ve tried that. When they were teens, I threatened that if they didn’t take the dirty clothes to the basement, they would not have any clean clothes to wear. For the most part I stuck with this one, but that doesn’t mean that they learned to “take care of their own clothes.” I could never get any of them into the habit of putting their clean clothes away. Mate socks? Never. Hang up their coats? Seldom. And I’m not a bit unusual. Most mothers have the same complaints. Mrs. Child where are you? We need you today!

On Raising Children

2008-01-31T07:32:00.000-08:00

Mrs. Child author of The American Frugal Housewife (pub 1833) sets out a way of life that seems just right. She tells me to save, knit, and quilt. On page one she also tells how to raise children:

“In this country, we are apt to let children romp away their existence, till they get to be thirteen or fourteen. This is not well. It is not well for the purses and patience of parents; and it has a still worse effect on the morals and habits of children. Begin early is the great maxim for everything in education. A child of six years old can be made useful; and should be taught to consider every day lost in which some little thing has not been done to assist others.”

I have always worked under the principle that I didn’t ask someone to do a task that I didn’t like to do my self. Since I have always hated doing dishes, I didn’t ask my kids to do them. Since I didn’t like to clean the cat litter pan, I didn’t ask my kids to do that either. There’s a long, long list of things I didn’t make my children do, and I’m sorry that I didn’t read Mrs. Child 45 years ago. The best I can do now is to give this good advice to my children for the benefit of the grandchildren. I only hope they will follow Mrs. Child’s maxims and not my example.

Quilting Is Good

2008-01-30T18:10:00.000-08:00

I've told you already that The Frugal American Housewife is a great book. Paragraph one told me to save stuff, paragraph two told me to knit, and paragraph three tells me to make quilts. Now what more could you ask?

Mrs. Child writes, "In this point of view, patchwork is good economy. It is indeed a foolish waste of time to tear cloth into bits for the sake of arranging it anew in fantastic figures; but a large family may be kept out of idleness, and a few shillings saved, by thus using scraps of gowns, curtains, etc."

I don't exactly know what she means about "fantastic figures," but I'm taking this paragraph to mean that making quilts is a good thing. That's all I need to know.

I started my first quilt (an old-fashioned flower garden design) before Jim and I were married. I used my mother's quilt for a pattern, and since she used pink as the outline color, I used green....mint green (That was my idea of rebellion). As it happens, I don't much like mint green anymore, but that's not why it took me 40+ years to finish it. The first snag I ran into was that I set the blocks incorrectly, and they went off at a slant. After a couple of years, I took the blocks apart and went at it more carefully. I got the top all finished many years later (I didn't work at it constantly, you understand) but then I lost track of it. One day I was at my mother's house and she was going through a box of stuff that she thought she should get rid of. She pulled out my quilt top, and said "I don't know when I did this one. I don't remember it at all." I said, "That's because you didn't do it. That's the one I made." By this time I was a member of a church where there was a quilting group, and I gave it to them to quilt. After I got it back, it took me awhile to get the edging on, but the quilt is now complete....and it is so precious to me that I won't use it. Now isn't that the pits! I'll bet Mrs. Child used her quilts!

Knitting Advice

2008-01-28T16:11:00.000-08:00

Knitting Advice

Daughter Robin told me that the Frugal Housewife was a really good book, and now I know that she's absolutely right. Paragraph one of the book gave me permission to save everything. Paragraph two gives just the right advice about knitting:

"'Time is money.' For this reason, cheap as stockings are, it is good economy to knit them. Cotton and woollen yarn are both cheap; hose that are knit wear twice as long as woven ones; and they can be done at odd minutes of time, which would not be otherwise employed. Where there are children, or aged people, it is sufficient to recommend knitting, that it is an employment."

I'm not so sure that cotton and woolen yarn are all that cheap any more, and it's really hard to beat the Chinese imports when it comes to things like socks. Also, I doubt if our modern young ladies would take kindly to knitting to fill the "odd moments", especially if they had to knit something as mundane as socks. And our aged people are all sitting at their computers, too busy typing to knit. That leaves the stay-at-home moms to carry on with knitting.

I've knitted a lot of things over the years. I started with a yellow sweater before my oldest daughter was born. At that time we didn't know whether the baby would be a boy or a girl, so we had to use either yellow or green. It was a perfect project, because it took me about 8 months to finish the sweater. My oldest daughter is now 44.

When my first two kids were young, I knitted them lots of sweaters. By the time the next two came along, I was too busy to knit....and I was doing art then anyway. I couple of years ago I decided to use up odds and ends of yarn by knitting stocking hats. I made 31 or them, and gave most of them away. I think there are still a couple hiding around here in some corner or other. I also have bought umpteen skeins of yarn since then so I’ll have more to knit up. (That goes with paragraph one of The Frugal Housewife.)

A couple of years ago I made sweaters for my youngest grandchildren, but I only got one finished (and the cuffs were a little too tight). Someday some one will find these unfinished knitting projects and they’ll either complete them or throw them in the trash. I feel kind of sad about that…but not sad enough to leave the computer and get out my yarn needles.

So, Robin has the permission of the Frugal Housewife to knit….and knit and knit and knit. If I were younger, I’d join her.

I Was Born In the Wrong Century!

2008-01-27T16:51:00.001-08:00

I'm a stuff collector. I have stuff piled everywhere. If a horizontal surface gets cleaned off, it is only minutes before it's collected a pile of stuff. I've been trying to cure this ailment for years and years, but the older I get, the more stuff I have.

Daughter Robin loaned me a book that makes me feel better. The book's title is "The American Fugal Housewife. Dedicated to those who are not ashamed of economy" by Mrs. Child. It was published in 1833. The very first paragraph in the book tells me all I need to know: I was born in the wrong century!

"The true economy of housekeeping is simply the art of gathering up all the fragments, so that nothing be lost. I mean fragments of time, as well as materials. Nothing should be thrown away so long as it is possible to make any use of it, however trifling that use may be; and whatever be the size of a family, every member should be employed either in earning or saving money."

Now, that's a doctrine I can agree with! Robin warned me that once I started reading the book, I wouldn't be able to stop. I've already read the second paragraph, and I'll talk about it tomorrow.

Why I Can't Go Back to School

2008-01-26T17:58:00.000-08:00

For 8 years I worked as a school librarian. I'd probably be there yet except that I discovered that with Medicare I didn't need to "work for insurance" any more. Jim was retired, and I wanted to be free to go on trips whenever we felt like it.

I loved being a school librarian. When I took over the job, they had not had a librarian for several years, and things were really in a mess. I volunteered half days all the first summer in an attempt to get the bookshelves rearranged in to some semblence of common sense.

I was responsible for both the grade school library (on the third floor of an old building) and the Grade 4-12 library. It was an exhausting job, and it was a lot more than just "checking out books." During the time I was there, I got us qualified to be part of the Alliance Library System, and we therefore had access to interlibrary loan and all of the support systems of the Alliance. I was required to teach library classes to grades K-6, and most often ended up making up my own lessons, because I never could find anything that jibed with what our library had on hand. I was also in charge of the copy center for the teachers, the laminating machine (and boy, those teachers laminated a ton of stuff!), and a computer lab.

When I retired, the superintendent replaced me with a part-time aide! Talk about an insult! Then the next year, it was a part-time person with even less time in the library. I have no idea how they have managed to keep the computer system going, and I know they no longer have interlibrary loan. I've been told, "Don't come back. It'll break your heart." Today I learned that the superintendent has let it be known that "There will be no librarian here while I am superintendent." Does that boggle your mind, or what?

I guess I'm lucky to be out of it. I feel sorry for the students, and I miss my teacher friends, but I know I could not face that man without my blood pressure going over the top.

Home Remedies That Really Work

2008-01-24T11:59:00.000-08:00

I'm not much on home remedies, superstitions, and old wives tales, but there are two "cures for what ails you" that really work, even if no one knows how they do it:

1: If you have a cold/flu/bronchitis/etc, you can't stop that nagging nighttime cough, just rub a healthy amount of Vicks on the bottoms of your feet and put on a pair of socks. Not only will your feet feel a slight, warm sensation that is pleasant in and of itself, but your cough will disapper in seconds. It works especially well on children, and you can bet every parent needs something to will soothe a kid so the parent can get some sleep!

2. Say you've eaten too much at Long John Silvers, or too much of that crab dip, and your stomach feels icky, too full, and altogether not right. Go to the kitchen and get out the cider vinegar. Pour about a tablespoonful in a little glass, add about 3 or 4 tablespoons of water, and glug it down. In less than a minute that bloated feeling will fade. We keep a bottle of apple cider vinegar (it tastes better than plain vinegar) in our upstairs medicine cupboard now, because very often that icky feeling happens at night. There's no way this thing can work, but it does. I guarantee it. (You know G'ma Karen wouldn't steer you wrong!)

Where has this gadget been all my life?

2008-01-23T16:43:00.000-08:00

For 47 years I've been keeping house, and for 47 years I've been disgusted by the gunk that gathers in the sink strainer. Those slots in the strainer let too much stuff through, big enough pieces to actually clog up the grid at the top of the drain pipe so that water in the sink stops going down the drain. The only solution was to put my fingers in there and get that glunk out! Ooooh! Ick!

At Christmas I was at daughter Robin's house and saw that she had a little screen gizmo in her sink that stopped stuff from going down the drain. Hmmmm! I looked for one at Wal-Mart and they probably have them, but I didn't find them. A trip to my everything-hardware store in Washington (IL), Kimpling Ace Hardware and I was on my way home to see how it worked. It worked great! Stuff that is scraped off plates or pans gathers in that screen dealie and is really easy to toss in the garbage. It's MUCH less gooky than the old strainer method.

I still don't know how to keep house, but this screen thing sure makes kitchen clean-up more pleasant.

Serendipity Again

2008-01-22T08:51:00.000-08:00

The weather has played havoc with our little church this year. It was so cold on Sunday (the 20th) that our elders decided to cancel church…and the potluck that was scheduled. We have many elderly people in the congregation, and it didn’t seem right to get them out in the extreme cold. And we know that if there was church, they would be there.

So this meant that Jim and I went to our neighborhood church which is just 3 blocks from our home. Our daughter and her family have been attending this church for some time now, and she even sings in the choir. They have been intending to transfer their membership to this church, but just haven’t found a time when the whole family was in church at the time of invitation. So during the invitation hymn, Robin looked at Chris and said, “Shall we do it today?” He said, “Yes,” and up they went. Naturally I got all choked up, and I couldn’t find a Kleenex. I felt so honored to happen to be present on the day they made this commitment. It’s another example of serendipity.

Rotels to the Rescue

2008-01-18T10:57:00.000-08:00

How could I get this old and not learn about Rotel tomatoes? I have never noticed them on the shelves at the grocery store, and wouldn't have tried them yet if Jim hadn't found them at Sams and bought an 8-pack. Those things are great!

The first time I had them brought to my attention was an autumn party at daughter Susan's house. She had made a creamy dip and added a can of Rotels. Wow was it good!

I'm not fond of "hot" food, but the Rotels have the flavor of hot food with only a little of the bite. The other night I cobbled together some left-overs and came up with the closest thing to Jim's favorite Appleby's entre, "N'Orleans Skillet." Actually Appleby's has taken this dish off the menu, so it's a happy accident that I can now copy it here at home. The recipe couldn't be simpler: saute some green pepper and onion in a little oil, add a couple of cups of cooked rice, slices of smoked sausage and throw in a can of Rotel tomatoes. Yum! I've concocted similar left-over dishes, but only when I added the Rotels did I get the taste right.

So I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks.

Teen Fashions

2008-01-15T18:37:00.000-08:00

I can't get over how ugly teens' clothing is today. The colors are UGLY! They were ugly in the 70's and 80's when they were bright, and the same colors today are even more ugly because they're grayed down. Looks like everything has been washed with the jeans and rugs. I saw a girl the other day in one of those dresses with the points on the hem, and the background color was a dirty white. There were gray-orange polka dots about 2 inches in diameter, and then there was this gray-aqua trim around the neckline and sleeves. Talk about ugly!

And what's with the pregnancy tops? Those things with a full "skirt" that starts right under the boobs. They're usually made of filmy or slinky material in dull colors in prints that remind me of diamond back rattlesnakes. I hated that look when I was wearing maternity clothes, and I don't like it one bit more on skinny girls. On fat girls it is WAAAAAY bad!

Serendipity or the Holy Spirit?

2008-01-13T16:00:00.000-08:00

Serendipity is a funny thing. Today neither of us elders nor Jim, our minister, got together on what we would say at the Communion Table. Jim did his meditation on feeling unworthy to be at the Lord's table, but because it is required of him, he does it. In other words, we all have jobs to do, and we just have to get busy and DO them.

I had written my Blessing Prayer last night, and it dealt with our unworthiness to sit at the table with the Lord, and yet we do it because he commanded it of us. That fit in so beautifully with Jim's meditation.

And then Larry, completely on his own, echoed our themes in his Thanksgiving Prayer! Now how can three people so completely mesh their thoughts when they haven't even talked about it? I don't think it's mere coincidence, because it happens all the time. If anything could convince me of the working of the Holy Spirit, this would do it.

How Do You Keep House?

2008-01-08T14:32:00.000-08:00

I have been trying lately to figure out what exactly my job is in the house. I know that sounds silly, since I've been keeping house for almost 50 years. It's just that I don't seem to be doing the minimum amount of house keeping, and I don't know why....other than I love the computer and my volunteer activities. So today I started a list of necessary jobs, and it's already longer than I want it to be, and I'm no where near finished. When the kids were home, I managed to keep up with the list and most things got done. I've got to figure out how to do it now. I may have to give up my "reading breaks," when I take my book and park on the sofa for "just a minute" that turns out to be an hour. Maybe I'll have to get started on housekeeping before I read the paper in the morning, or open my email. There must be a way to do this. I've just got to figure it out.
In the past I've tried many methods for keeping up. My favorite was "Sidetracked Home Executives" (SHE). I had a file box of 3x5 cards and I went through them every day. It worked (more or less) then, because my major job every day was taking care of the house and family. I never spent the 5 to 7 hours a day that would be needed to do a good job, but I kept up....thanks to my good buddy and partner in "crime" Sandy Du. I've tried to start the program up again, but I simply don't want to spend that much time on it. I can't imagine changing my life so that I'm doing housekeeping 5 hours a day! I'd be happier with 5 hours a week!
I know that one of the critical things to do is to get rid of clutter. Yup. I know all about it! I've bought a bunch of how-to books on that subject, too. I've even started out to do some of them. I usually stick with it about a week. Since I always start in the kitchen, that's the only area that ever gets scooped out. But then when I move on to the next place, the "clean" spot gets filled with things from the "newly clean" spot, and you can never see that I've done anything at all. It's downright discouraging.

Losing Keys

2008-01-04T17:09:00.000-08:00

If there's one thing in the world I hate, it's not being able to find my keys when I go to unlock the car! Therefore, I have this handy D-ring sewn into my purse right next to the cell phone pocket.I carry 3 keyrings with me:1) has the keys to the Historical Society, 2) has my flash drives, and 3) has my house and car keys. Each of them has one of those clasps like you see on dog leashes. I ALWAYS clip my keys to that D-ring when I get out of the car. Right.

This afternoon I parked at the end of the block where you can stay longer than 2 hours without getting a ticket. This evening we went to the Chanticleer for supper, and I left my computer stuff sitting out at the Hist. Soc., planning to come back after dinner to pick it all up. As we were getting near the place where my car was parked, I said, "Let me out here, and I'll drive my car up in front of the Hist. Soc." So that's what we did.

I went into the building, cleared my desk and got my computer all bundled up in its brief case, turned out the lights, locked the door and headed for the car. I reached for my keys. They weren't there. I checked my pockets. They weren't there. I dug in my purse. No keys. After a bit (it was cold and windy out there), I went to the van where my husband,Jim, was waiting for me and sat down to do a better (and warmer) search. No keys. I went back into the Society. No keys. I searched in my purse again, taking almost everything out of it. No keys. I went outside and searched in the slush around the car, but they were not to be found. I got Jim's set of car keys, and checked to see if I had left them in the car. Nope. So, sitting in the car with the overhead light on, I took EVERYthing out of my purse....including my keys! It leaves me dumfounded to have this happen, and it explains once again why I ALWAYS hook my keys to the D-ring. Yup.

The funniest part of the ordeal was that when I got through searching the car after opening it with Jim's keys, I said, "I was at the bank and the Court House this afternoon. Maybe they fell out there." And Jim kind of gave a double take and said, "Yes, but you just drove it around the corner 5 minutes ago."

Let's Fight

2008-01-03T13:30:00.000-08:00

I realized today that I pass up really good chances for fights. I can't explain why I don't dig in and go to verbal battle once in awhile. Most people do. For example, I have a doormat at the back door. It's not one of those really heavy ones, nor is it light enough to crumple up. The other day as my husband was coming through that door, he kind of tripped and had to catch himself. He said, "Damn! One of these days that rug is going to kill me!" What did I do? I shrugged my shoulders and gave it no more thought. I figure 1) I like the rug there as a welcome, 2) it isn't a hazard if you pick your feet up, 3) I don't need to say anything about it because I'm not going to move it, and 4) if I decide it really is a hazard, I'll just take it up and say no more. Well, you can see that I passed up a chance for a really good fight:
He: That damned rug is going to kill me someday!
She: There's nothing wrong with that rug! You need to pick up your big feet!
He: I do pick up my feet! I just hate rugs. I hate this rug in the dining room, too!
She: You don't like anything I do, do you?...
You can see where this is headed.
I've witnessed lots of fights between husband and wife, and almost all of them quickly get off the subject and on to old complaints, gripes, mistakes, pet peeves, etc. I've seen quite a few where the battlers could not tell you what actually generated the first hot words. Somehow it would be nice if we could teach young people how to keep from falling into this trap. I know that my husband has taught me to "pick my battles," and so I don't get riled up unless it's a really important issue. I just don't let it bother me. I think about something else. I go my own way, and if there's action to be taken, I'll take it later when conditions are calmer.
So I probably miss out on a lot of marrital fun, if you can call fights "fun"...and some people do. My life is a lot calmer, and our relationship is unruffled. I think I'll keep it this way.

We Want Good People

2007-11-29T11:57:00.000-08:00

We keep hearing commentators and news people wondering why Mike Huckabee has such a strong and growing following, especially amongst evangelical Christians. It really isn’t hard to figure out. It’s because he is, as far as we know, a GOOD person.

We are sick to death of wealthy and powerful scum. We’re disgusted by millionaire sports figures who live lives of depravity. We’re frustrated by politicians who find themselves charged with felonies when all they did was solicit some sex in a restroom. We’re appalled by a female candidate in high office whose back-stage talk is laced with the f-word.

It isn’t that we demand of our leaders what we demand of ourselves. We demand more. We want our teachers, leaders and preachers to be better than we are. We want to be able to look up to them. We want to be able to hold them up as examples for our children. At the same time, we understand that they are just human and all of us have faults and failings. But there is a desire in our hearts for our leaders to be GOOD people.

Enter Huckabee. He is an honest, straight-forward man, a Southern Baptist preacher, and an experienced politician. He also has a sense of humor and a humility that endears him to us. It’s no surprise to me that conservative America, Christian America, is drawn to him. Look at the others who are vying for the office of president of the U.S.A. The contrast couldn’t be more stark.

I really don’t know if he would be a strong, conservative president. I don’t think anyone can know that for certain. Many people thought Ronald Reagan would be a bust as president. Many thought Jimmy Carter would be a really good president. We’ve been wrong before.

Be that as it may, it is thrilling to see someone set his cap at the White House who is a worthy person. I’m praying that he makes it!

Wake Up to a Song

2007-10-30T07:49:00.000-07:00

Do you wake up in the morning singing a song? Sounds idyllic, but it's kind of weird really. Every morning when I wake up, there's a song in my head, and it usually stays all day. It's never anything like "The Hills Are Alive with the Sound of Music." It's things like "Greasy, grimy, gopher guts..." or "The Wabash Cannonball." Yesterday it was "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf" and today it was "I'll take you home again Kathleen..." Now where on earth did THAT come from? I guess I should be thankful that I wake up "with a song in my heart," but it gets annoying when the song sticks with me every waking minute.

Book Review: Nails by Peter Bowen

2007-07-24T08:24:00.000-07:00

Once in awhile you find an author who opens up new vistas for you. Peter Bowen is that kind of author. In the publicity photo he looks like a white-haired old cowboy, and he writes like one, too. His main character is Gabriel DuPre, a renowned fiddle player who specializes in the old French Canadian music. DuPre is part Indian also, and he lives in the Wolf Mountains of Montana. The other characters are so well-drawn that you know you'd recognize them if you saw them on the street.

Each book has many themes. In Nails, Bowen's latest book, the theme is religion, believe it or not.

There are the "Christers," as DuPre calls them, fundamental Christians who pray out loudly anytime and all the time but who browbeat their women and kill them if the women aren't righteous enough. The Christers' goal is to get Creationism taught in the school instead of evolution. It doesn't matter to them that the money spent to fight them in court is money that cannot be spent on education.

There is Father Van Den Heuvel, a Jesuit priest who is also a geologist. Father Van Den Heuvel was sent to this out-of-the-way place because it would keep him out of trouble. He is the clumsiest person alive, and it's all DuPre can do to keep the priest from fatally wounding himself. At one point, Father V.D.H. says, " I could almost manage to believe in hell, just so I could hope that bastard was in it."

There's Madelaine, DuPre's wife, who is steady as a rock, and wise and generous to boot. She goes to confession even though she knows Father V.D.H. doesn't believe in it. She says she knows what works for her, and what other people believe is no concern of hers.

There's Booger Tom, an old cowboy who is now the top hand on a rich man's ranch. Tom is one of the funniest and most colorful characters in the books. In this one he sews up a wound on Father V.D.H.'s rear end and gives him shots of penicillin that he keeps for treating horses and cows. His funniest line in this book is, "I tried to give myself one [a shot] oncet. Chased my ass with that needle from Miles City to Spokane, gave up, had to ask for help."

The patois spoken by the natives of Toussaint, Montana, is English, with word order and phrasing that is French Canadian and/or Indian. It takes some getting used to, but after a bit I was wishing I could be immersed in it for real.

My advice is to start reading Bowen's work from the first one, Stewball, and proceed through all 13 books. My problem now is that I have to wait months for the next book in the series. It'll be worth the wait though.

More on Worship

2007-07-19T11:32:00.000-07:00

At Harristown Christian Church we offer what is best described as a "traditional" worship service. There are rites like weekly open communion service and the lighting of the Gospel and Epistle candles by an accolyte. We sing at least four hymns accompanied by an organ or piano and sometimes both. Then there's the pastoral prayer followed by the Lord's Prayer, an introit and benediction, two readings from the Bible and singing the Gloria Patri and Doxology.

Other than the form of our worship services, the thing that sets us apart from other churches is that the preaching is positive in tone. Our pastor explains the Bible reading, giving the history surrounding it, what the writer was trying to do, and any special considerations like translation from the original language that it was written in. Then the pastor relates the Bible reading to our current time and teaches us how we can live according to the Bible lesson.

We are fortunate to have three women who are competent on the keyboard, one or two who have beautiful singing voices, and an appreciative audience for just about anyone who wants to do something for the worship service. We have an occasional harp or trumpet solo and vocal solos with beautiful sign language accompaniment.

We also have a body of people who are willing to do the work of the church including mowing the lawn, repairing things that break, handling the necessary paperwork, participating in the worship service, attending and teaching Bible study classes, and coordinating our mission giving. And our potlucks are still worth coming to, because our cooks are the best anywhere.

What we do not have is hellfire-and-damnation preaching, talking on and on about sin and sinners, harrangues about giving more money, political issues masked as Christian duties, or speaking in tongues or testimonials. We also don't have charismatic things like arm waving, amens, spontaneous outpourings from the congregation, or contemporary music with guitars and drums.

What I personally miss is a choir, enough people singing so I don't feel like I'm doing a solo, enough people to do an occasional playlet, and a Sunday School for kids....along with some kids to teach.

All in all, Harristown Christian Church is a wonderful place to recognize God's goodness and grace. It's a place to come back to weekly so that we can "recharge our batteries" and get right with God and man. We're small, but we're great in heart and service.

How I Became a Musician

2007-07-18T17:26:00.000-07:00

My Grandma Hammond was very musical. She played the piano for her mother's movie theater in the days of the silents. One of her favorites, and one that my aunts Mary and Sally both learned to play, was "The Midnight Fire Alarm." I finally got a copy of it and sometimes I play it just for fun. That old music requires a lot of accurate bouncing around in the left hand: low note, middle range chord, low note, chord, etc. You know what I mean. I used to be able to play that kind of stuff, but it's a struggle anymore.....except that I've gotten over the weak-elbows-when-you-make-a-mistake phase. I can just keep on going.

I never questioned that I would play the piano. I just assumed it was something I was supposed to do. And then when I moved to Peoria and had NO friends or social activities (until I met the boy who became my husband in my sophomore year), the piano was my entertainment. Mother told me, "I have to do these dishes. You can either help me with them or practice." Then she would take a LONG time doing the dishes. We had a very clean kitchen then, I'll tell you. After awhile it got so I even enjoyed doing the exercises.

I do wish I had paid more attention when Miss Johnson tried to teach me the different chords and progressions. It's not as easy to learn now as it was then. At one time I debated taking guitar lessons so I could learn such things, and Jim got me a nice guitar for Christmas one year, but I never got to the point of signing up for lessons. I always thought it was so cool when someone could pick up a guitar and accompany singing. When I was young, I was too shy to do any such thing. After about age 40, I gave up being shy, but I don’t have the time or the need to learn guitar any more.

Small Churches that Survive Against All Odds

2007-07-18T16:58:00.000-07:00

Besides Harristown Christian Church, I know of two instances of thriving small churches that defied all odds.

In Taintor, Iowa, there's a community church that used to be a Methodist congregation. The people had met in the same building for years and years, and one day the bishop (or whoever) decided that the congregation was too small, and they would have to cease to be. The people were furious, and said they would just stop being Methodists, and form a new church. Well, that was well and good, but it turns out that they didn't own the building. The Methodist Church did. One of the congregation had a new two-stall garage that had a concrete floor, so the congregation set it up as their temporary home. After a time, they got a loan and built a new church building. It's a very simple but elegant structure, well-suited to their needs. When I visited it a couple of years ago, it had grown some. Maybe someday it will not be a small church at all, but no one is about to panic about its small size.

On the other hand, the Presbyterian Church in New Sharon, Iowa, is very small. When we visited with my sister, there were just 7 people in attendance, and that counted my husband and me. They have their worship services on Wednesday evening, and their minister is usually a student who serves a Sunday-church also. After the service, they get together for refreshments. The time we were there the refreshments were substantial, and everyone was congenial and friendly. I guess there's been talk from "higher up" about closing the church, but the congregation supports the expenses and so far they have managed to keep on keeping on.

Small churches are everywhere. Some of them become big churches when they get a charismatic minister and strong, growth-centered lay leadership, but some will remain small and may continue on for years and years. I wonder what Jesus would say to our small groups if he came to visit?

Churches for Everyone

2007-07-17T18:00:00.000-07:00

What is it that makes one church more suitable to a person than another? Is one kind of church better than another? Is one more Christian? The answers are obvious. Everyone has different expectations, desires, and needs, to say nothing of his/her cultural background. So there’s not one kind or size of church that is right for everyone.

At Harristown Christian we have become a pretty small church, but our expectations, desires, and most of our needs are met. Oh, it would be nice to have more “young” people. Most small churches suffer from a lack of young families. In our case most of the people with families migrated to the churches with active youth programs. Who could blame them? When we had children at home, we also wanted a youth-centered church. Now that we are older, we appreciate the quiet and orderliness we experience on Sunday. Oh, we surely wouldn’t turn down a family with youngsters, and we would do our best to provide for their needs. But most of us recognize that the time when our church would be full of children is probably over.

It’s entirely possible that something will happen in the future to change the nature of our church and “turn it around.” I don’t think anyone would be opposed to that kind of change, but if it doesn’t happen, we are content to keep on keeping on as we are.

My husband has often said that there is nothing wrong with being a church dedicated to the needs and desires of “old people.” There’s room enough in this country for all kinds of churches, and Harristown CC’s place is perfectly fine, thank you!
(Next time: What happens to small churches?)

Harristown Christian Church, a Small Church

2007-07-15T17:36:00.000-07:00

In our denomination, and in most denominations today, there's a concerted effort to close down small churches and consolidate into a more viable size, even a mega-church. I've been a member of a small congregation all my life, and I'm getting a little weary of the pressure put on small churches to grow and merge. Its as though the only true church is a big church. After all, big churches can provide so many more programs, hire so many more ministers, build much better buildings, yada yada yada.
By the way, the definition of a small church depends on who is talking. To the Regional Office a small church is one with 100 or fewer people in attendance on Sunday. To me a small church is one with fewer than 40 in attendance. And then there's the really small churches with three people meeting together. And I don't need to remind everyone that Jesus said that wherever two or more are gathered in His name, He is there also.
Harristown Christian Church has an average Sunday attendance of 16 or so. It's a small church, but it's extra large in heart. If you start listing all the things we don't have because we're so small, you can go on and on. If you start listing all the things we have and all the things we do, you can make an equally long list. Small size does not mean nothing is happening. People in our congregation are committed to being good people. They are the hands, feet, and heart of Jesus in this world.
(Continued tomorrow)

Bug Bite Central

2007-07-13T09:30:00.000-07:00

My kids call me “Dr. Karen.” Whenever there is a medical problem, they call for advice on what to do about it. My husband’s pretty good at it, too, so he gets in on the diagnosing and advice.

Lately I’ve been “Bug Bite Central.” I get calls just about every week about some bug bite or other and what to do about them. Everyone’s afraid of the Brown Recluse spider, of course. I keep hoping I never see one…or the results of a bite from one.

Today the question was about three bites on a 4-year-old’s abdomen. They have a center with a red ring around it and a white raised ring around that. Now, that’s a new one on me. My advice was cortisone cream and benedryl. If things don’t look better by evening, a call to the real doctor is in order.

Flea bites are the most annoying. For some reason, a flea will bite two or three times, the bites lined up in a pretty straight line. I’ve never researched why they do this. Flea bites itch like all tarnation, and cortisone creams don’t seem to do much good. Neither does scratching.

The best thing to do is to get rid of the fleas. That’s easier said than done if you have indoor pets who have outdoor privileges. The strange thing about fleas is that once they hitch a ride inside, they hop off and burrow into your carpets and furniture. Any old crevice will do. They lay eggs and spit out blood that gives the hatching larvae something to live on until they can become adults.

I remember one time many years ago coming across a pad of cloth that one of our cats used for a sleeping place. It must have had 50 to 100 little worm-like things on it. I threw it out of course, and wondered what those critters were. Soon I discovered they were flea larvae. Ick!

Protecting your pets with flea treatments not only makes life easier for them, it keeps you from having a house full of fleas. I prefer the kind I get at the veterinary. There’s an applicator filled with several drops of liquid that you squirt between the animal’s shoulder blades, high up on its neck. It requires reapplication monthly, but it’s worth every penny.

Getting Rid of Age Spots

2007-07-12T08:31:00.000-07:00

For all of you ladies in my vast readership, I have a product to tell you about. I hope you already know about it and use it. It's called "Even Complexion Essence" by Mary Kay. You know that daughter Susan sells Mary Kay products now, and although I thought I would go to my grave wearing Merle Norman, I'm a Mary Kay convert.
For many years I've had "age spots" about the size of half a postage stamp on both my cheeks (facial, not behind....if they were on my behind, I wouldn't know about them). They weren't right up front, so I couldn't see them very well, but in pictures they were very obvious. Now, I know I'm growing old and I have to expect things like age spots, but I like to think of myself as a lot younger, and age spots on the face are only for OLD women. When I bought my first set of Mary Kay products, I got the Even Complection Essence, but I really didn't think it would work. Since Susan told me to try it, I did. And it worked! The spots are still there, but they are so much lighter that the foundation makeup covers them. It took several months for the spots to fade and I have to keep applying the ECEssence every day, but it's worth it. I highly recommend this product to anyone. If you don't know a Mary Kay sales person, Susan will be happy to mail things to you. Her email address is susan@bressner.net