Monday, May 06, 2013
The Mother's day noodles you know you're getting if your kids are under the age of 10.
Sigh, when did it become a day to force a spouse to buy you a gift. That is just plain stupid.
Selfish and stupid. It's a day to honor YOUR Mother.
So, your kids are too young? Then involve them in doing good for their grandma, they'll grow up learning how to celebrate the day and will WANT to do something for you when they have a talent, a job and income or skills to actually do something nice that will be meaningful.
Ugh, the number of people I've spoken to that are worried about not finding the right gift for their wife, or having to make multiple purchases so a "thing" can be given from each one of kids-too-small to have to worry themselves with anything more than putting their handprint in colorful paint on a sheet of construction paper.
When else will you get to wear noodles around your neck.
Which kid ever said, oh mom. I didn't really want you to war that.
Thursday, November 01, 2012
Two extra points if you remember that I would want to get up extra early October 1 to decorate the house.
This year - a 4 foot sign in the middle of the walkway that reads
DO NOT RING THE DOORBELL
DO NOT KNOCK
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
And no, I didn't make it from a used pumpkin that had been a jack-o-lantern the night before as we once tried to do when we were kids.
But the pumpkin, was, alas, a decorative pumpkin, INTENDED to be used as a jack-o-lantern and therefore tasted differently than a pie pumpkin.
Want more info on the difference? Check out "The Truth about Pumpkins".
So, I use canned. And any brand will do.
Anytime I see it on sale, year-round... I buy it. Aside from Marie callendar's sour cream lemon, pumpkin is my favorite pie.
I do also buy the necessary canned milk whenever I see it on sale. It has a fairly long shelf life and can sometimes be found in the clearance section.
What I discover once in a while as I drag out my mixing bowl and pie pans, is that I forget whether it's sweetened condensed milk or evaporated and seem to have an equal supply of both.
So I tested it this past week.
Using my exactly identical pie recipe, I made one batch with evaporated milk and the required sugar.
I made the other using the canned sweetened condensed milk and left out the sugar.
No difference in the texture, baking time or resulting deliciousness.
Hmmm .... wonder if I can make pumpkin pie a main course?
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
Not only did my daughter's elementary school hold father-daughter dances.... So did her local girl scout council.
So, every year - twice a year - I had to hope a family friend would remember to ask if my daughter wanted to go with them, of course, that still meant her dad was nowhere to be found. Which is what she would have wanted.
Yes, I could ask a family friend outright, but what if they wanted to make it a special daughter event and didn't have the heart to just say no.
it's difficult to say no to such a request when you're a decent person.
It was often the same with father-son campouts, just slightly less so... since once the boys got there it was madness and mayhem not an organized civil affair like a dance.
Aw, everything can't be fair for everyone - I know it - and I attended my share of campouts - but my kids knew it every day. Every night. And every father's day when I asked if they would like to send a card to their dad... Why? they would wonder. He didn't even like visiting if one of them was injured or in the hospital. He didn't remember their birthdays and ignored every invite we sent for the big, the small and the ordinary-but-tried anyway events in their lives. So, eventually they gave up.
I sure wish the headline here read: Enlightened School District Realizes Negative Impact on Fatherless Girls and Does Away with Father-Daughter Dances.With kudos to the mom who opened their eyes.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Those from my most recent job. Oh, I miss the job too. I miss being there, the safety, calm and peace.
But there was a love and trust from my boss and from a few of my co-workers that I haven't felt in 20 years.
I don't think it was mutual and there is no insult intended in expressing that.
The first week or two on the job - one of the most personal and private (and painful) events - mistake - regret - thankful-for-the-atonement mess-ups from my past, walked right in to say... hello...
I'm not even sure what my reaction or behavior would have been in the years before becoming a member of the church.
Though I had a slight moment of panic, what I DID do, was walk right over to my brand new boss and start telling her about it.
With complete certainty that she would if not immediately understand, care.
In the time I worked there we had a volatile relationship, her and I. She is a caring, loving, wise and goodly woman.
I have aspergers.
I am caring, loving, sorta-wise and goodly as well.
Aspergers places a layer of virtual sandpaper between us. Between me and most people eventually.
I often wish I lived near enough to just hangout.
I had to quit.
There is a bigger picture that is more important.
Still, I miss the people that are there right now and I miss being there.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
I have 8 people following me on google friend connect?
I used to have 45.
Let's not discuss how many I had before I had to change my name.
I know I am interesting. Consistent? Maybe not. Fun? Oh, so very yes.
You - you there in the back row ...
Click that google follow box!
And little Gwen of course >^,,^<
We've been renting out bedrooms to help pay bills.
Believe me, standards to move in are incredibly high.
And yet, we seem to get burned by every renter.
Not just on the financial end, and I do not even mean to count our family friend who technically is just that, a family friend.
Though - on the financial end - I keep looking in the mirror to see if there is indeed a tattoo on my forehead that reads; naw, you don't really need to pay your rent, I'm renting out rooms in my home because I just LIKE it. Whatever.
We've had renters make an unbelievable mess in our home.
Some refuse to clean.
Some think because there is a second living room upstairs they are within a shield of invisibility and under a dome of silence and use it as a personal make-out room.
Good gravy man.
So tonight, though I know next week I will not have groceries - I rejoice - because I can put my pajamas on, walk through my kitchen in them, and leave my bedroom door open if I want to.
And since I like little Gwen to come in if she wants to - I do!
Friday, August 31, 2012
Friday, August 17, 2012
Monday, August 13, 2012
I say ... and you think ... ?
- View :: from the back
- Yoga :: Yoda
- Giggle :: Grin
- Raider :: Lost Ark
- Summer :: Heat
- Debt :: Captivity
- Cleaning :: Fresh
- Sneakers :: Vans
- Thwarted :: Attempt
- Recipes :: Mine of course! - Joi of Cooking with Meow
Sunday, August 12, 2012
Important to this story - because Heavenly Father - He has not changed.
Many, many of the things I grew up and learned, I still know to be correct.
But upon praying and reading and more praying, I have discovered some ... doctrine? ... to have come for convenience.
I can’t rely on a quick check convenient line to return home to Heavenly Father, so I decided to join the LDS church a few years ago. Five years ago this month.
Back in 1991 however, I was in St. Christopher's church, praying to our only Heavenly Father, and praying intensely. With the burning emotion of a woman who was already a mom and could not for one millisecond imagine life without her child.
How, possibly would I manage losing this one?
Nothing spectacular in the sense of visually dramatic occurred at all. The way one might imagine after TV movies and popular drama. What did occur is on overall feeling of incredible warmth and peace.
And if I dare use the word revival . . . when it does seem as if I am describing an old fashion sanctification meeting . . . I experienced a revival of the words to yet another prayer I'd learned even before the creed.
Wednesday, August 08, 2012
Seems Be Sweet is a popular name for homemade knitted and crocheted items.
Most laid out like little dessert treats.
Including these adorable little goodies.
Oh yeah - those may look like little sweet treats, but they are baby hats.
I can't knit.
I can't crochet.
My mom crochets and attempted to teach me, sort of, once.
I created the most fabulous baby blue and white, er, shoelace for a giant with a size 845 foot.
That it, I could not grasp . . . connecting . . . the yarn to make anything other than an endless single chain ... but I kept that chain up until I ran out of yarn.
The crochet lessons never resumed.
I've pondered finding a do-it-yourself DVD or online tutorial to learn kitting.
Perhaps when I'm a grandmother ....
Anyone taught themselves?
Is it feasible? Anyone want to offer knitting lessons?
Tuesday, August 07, 2012
Memories of candy - ooh!
I have oh so many, but what comes to mind right now is dad's 80th birthday.
Just a few years ago, after we'd moved to Texas, he decided to have his first birthday party.
Never having had very many birthday parties myself, I suddenly understood a little better why. Not that I'd ever felt deprived, I'm not all that much a fan of attention.
I do, however like dancing ... and birthday cake!
I'd always known that my parents grew up in difficult times and had little of what seems common and every day by today's standards. They have absolutely no sense of entitlement that we worry about our own offspring ... (the next generation) developing (and hence spoiling them rotten until they've morphed into self-centered little-or-big brats).
But his first birthday party.
Since I was traveling 1500 miles to get there, I wasn't in on as much of the planning and details as my sisters, but I did come up with a few ideas.
The sweet one, was finding small brown paper bags for party favors. Because 75-80 years ago no one bought plastic pre-printed spiderman party bags.... and turning 80 is so far past the age of making jokes about being over-the-hill.
At 80, you have climbed the highest peak, conquered all the hills and --- say -- at 80 if you haven't been spoiled you should allow yourself to be spoiled for the next dozen or so years - and enjoy!
Seems Target doesn't carry much of a supply of nostalgic old time candy. I'm not talking about pop rocks and fun dip - those might seee vintage to my generation . . . Pre-WWII candy is a whole different ballgame.
First, I got Sugar Daddies. You know, those impossibly hard to bite into rectangular-shaped caramel lollipops in the bright yellow wrapper.
Sugar Daddies were invented in 1925 - true vintage for a man born in that same decade. They were originally named "Papa Sucker" but changed in 1932, to the same slang term known now that suggests generosity and has the connotation of one who, uh, shares wealth. Ok, perhaps the slang meaning has more of a PG-13 rating a little since 1932 .
Next - Abba Zabba.
Created in 1922 it also sports bright yellow, but bright yellow checkerboard - it's taffy with - yum, peanut butter inside! I was tickled to learn Abba Zabba candy bars are kosher.
Last, and truly his favorite.
The Big Hunk.
Straight out of the 1930's, the company that invented them was bought in the 70's. STILL - hard to find.
Big Hunk is 2 ounces of chewy nougat - peanuts jammed here and there as if they'd been trying to swim for freedom when the nougat solidified. For sure, it isn't really rock solid, though the wrapper suggests microwaving for 5 to 10 seconds to make it super soft. (Who has a microwave while they're out riding their bike!)
Stick it in a pocket and after a good ride, it willl have softened up.
That was it - but it was a true surprise so it may not have been grand or costly - but made the birthday boy AND party revelers all very happy!
A wheel within a wheel a rolling, way in the middle of the air
The first wheel ran by faith, the other one ran by the grace of God
A wheel within a wheel a rolling, way in the middle of the air
Ezekiel saw two flames a-burning, way in the middle of the air
The first flame burned by faith, and the other flame burned by the grace of God
Ezekiel saw two flames a-burning, way in the middle of the air
Friday, July 27, 2012
But the small round towel hangar started coming loose and rather than screw it back into an unpainted wall, I figured, well - time to get to that painting.
Nothing like a small repair to inspire a huge task!
I've got my vibrams now, so I almost never slip - you all know how clumsy I can be - Grace is so not my middle name!
I also pulled out the extra can of 'romantic isle' my daughter bought to do her bathroom before she left for Idaho a few years ago.
I was about to post it on - heheheh, yeah, Craigslist... but opened it up, because the depiction of the color online seems much bluer than I recall. I always thought it was more of a brightish-purpley-lavender ...
Nope, blue based and beautiful. Decided there is no reason to get rid of it... I'll just use it on the other bathroom, or maybe the downstairs half bath. (No, not my son's... he's more of the grungy gray type)
One last huge step forward - I started writing a short story based on a character I've written about before. Got blocked when I could not remember his nephew's name.
Oh so important. Computer crashed and I cannot find a print copy.
It took me a week, but decided today -
(this is the huge step for it's-got-to-be-right me)
F I C T I O N A L people do not need to stay consistent.
It's not as if he's been published or anyone has ever read it. Only me!
So onward, ever onward -
I just keep chuckling and thinking of McGhee on NCIS and wonder if there are real people I'm forgetting that are very similar to the fictional characters -
still, unless a miracle occurs and it would be published, the real people can never recognize themselves like Tony, Abby and Livi, oops I mean, Ziva.... hahahaha
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
I've had them since 1983.
Without fail, they bloom on my birthday in September.
Certainly, they bloom at other times as well, but it's a nice little surprise to always check and see the familiar tiny white bloom to greet me as I age yet another year.
Turns out, that worry that I couldn't care for them all was not for naught ....
Like so many other plants and trees, they did not survive last summer's drought.
This is the only one left.
I placed a post on Native Texas facebook page, hoping to identify them.
Those many years ago, back in 1983, when we bought two gallon containers from University Nursery on Sunnymead Blvd, the nursery employee assisting us told us they were mexican grass plants. I think we got them free because we were frequent customers, they were the last two he had left and we were also purchasing about $100.00 worth of plants that day. (1983 $100.00)
I've never found them anywhere else, never found anyone who has heard of them and until last summer, had never had them in danger. They multiplied and multiplied. I brought nearly a thousand, still leaving a good 500 behind.
(Sadly, a recent google picture search of my old property reveals that the new owners, or the second new owners, took them all out... gadzooks, also took out my kumquat, lemon, gardenias and most of the palm trees!)
Another FB fan of Native Texas plants identified them as a rain lily (Zephyranthes Candida). Turns out, as I tried to find a site to order some, there are many varieties of Zephyranthes. But I have 10 bulbs on the way.
Can you imagine ... only 10.
We'll see how they do, if they're the correct variety.. and hopefully we can get them to flourish again!
I love craigslist.
A few night's ago I spent three hours past my already late bedtime scouting out interesting items on craigslist.
Most, just curiosity, but one - my son truly needed and wanted.
We got up early, before work, and popped over.
$20.00 cement mixer.
yes, it works.
But he only needs to complete his firepit and my retaining wall, now that the fence is completed.
(¸.•´ (¸.•` ¤ Fence is completed!*´¨)
Still, I did just read an article, albeit a non-scholarly article, that stated approximately 25% of adults diagnosed with aspergers also have seizures. It went on to mention the high incidence of a low immune system and briefly discuss the difficulty managing it all.
I have adult diagnosed aspergers.
I have epilepsy. Temporal lobe epilepsy.
and a low immune system.
I don't usually come right out and tell anyone about any of this.
Not even loved ones.
It's not that they don't think there is something wrong with me. I wonder if they just prefer the general all-encompassing lay-diagnosis of crazy.
I've heard "she just never grew up."
"What's wrong with her, is she crazy? How can she think she has this?"
In years past I was accused of suffering from Munchausen by proxy syndrome (MBPS), because from the age of 18 months until we left California, my daughter suffered from severe, chronic asthma.
When I started walking 3 miles a day, gave up fried food, sugar and reduced my meal portions to 'child-size', I lost almost 100 lbs and received the first correspondence in a decade from one loved one. Recommending I seek help for my bulimia.
When the business I worked for filed bankruptcy and closed, leaving me unemployed, I was repeatedly told, "Ah, we see this problem in so many people your age. They think they're going to retire early and find they can't, because they have not saved enough money and don't have medical insurance."
Some days I submit as many as 20 job applications. I've gone on interviews where I was scheduled to meet with a 'team', was led into the conference room where said team awaited to chat with me, and, upon entering, they all glanced at each other and one person would get up and walk over to me with a statement that, "The plan for today's interviews have changed. I'll be meeting with you, let's step into my office.". We do, I am asked a total of two or three questions, told I have remarkable experience and that a decision will be made that day. Of course, I never hear from them again.
I know why. I've hit the half-century mark.
Precise, logic-based, detail-oriented characteristics that I cannot just choose to abandon are seen as eager, hard working, enthusiastic and a go-getter when one is young. In later years they become stubborn, set in her ways, know-it-all annoying.
I know that most people do not understand why I cannot find a job. Likely the same thought that has crossed and recrossed through the minds of my parental units strolls through theirs. 'she seems so bright, if she just weren't so lazy'.
the branding mark of an Aspie.
I try not to think about the accusation of MBPS. It would have meant I was forcibly causing my daughter not to breathe. good gravy. This is what they think of me?
And I know I would rather put pins in my eyes than throw up, even when I am sick, so the thought of doing that to lose weight is revolting in itself. I've looked back at pictures of myself. I wasn't all that skinny. And I surely did not look ill. I had just always been the fattest [ ¬ shhhhh f word] one.
Before moving to Texas, I had medical insurance. Good medical insurance. Multiple doctors, a neurologist. I was diagnosed with temporal lobe seizures. Left temporal lobe. THAT neurologist refrained from using the word epilepsy. But the doctor I see now says, him not using the WORD doesn't change what it is.
I attempted for years not speaking about aspergers. Groups I was in usually agreed, never disclose. hen I went to work for a place I was sure was so loving, so accepting and so understanding - it would be better if I did disclose. Wrong.
It would have required previous education in aspergers as well as, well, other factors that simply were not there.
I've been avoiding talking to anyone in my life about it. Until Sunday.
i experienced one of the worst seizures I've had in 6 years. I was panicked and scared and had that all consuming feeling that I was just going to die.
After all the many years I used to want death to hurry and come, now I want to live and do so much and now, I've had that consuming feeling a few times. Once I completely succumbed and just climbed into bed, not expecting to get up the next day.
I now am TRULY grateful every morning when I awaken and arise to a whole new day. Heavenly Father surely knew my thought, desires and feelings ... He could have let me die, unprepared. But He wants even me to be able to return home.
There's just that overwhelming logical part of me that wants to assign a reason as to why my loved ones (sigh, mom) would prefer to speak about me as if I am both mentally challenged AND a conniving witch.
Yoou don't suppose I am so very challenged I am completely unaware of my conniviness? Naw, I have an IQ of 142. I only forget the most common things, like, what time to be at work or to put my phone in my purse before I leave .... drat, I think I forgot to turn on the dishwasher.
Monday, June 04, 2012
Well bust my buttons, I finally got my phone to accept Blogger. Perhaps it took the forced patience that accompanies a lifeless pc.
If I can now manage a human sized keyboard somehow... I've never been a "thumb" typer on the phone, but it would seem I need both hands.
I injured my thumb and though have been ensured it's not broken, the pain and loss of function are confounding.
I fell asleep in Sacrament meeting yesterday. Not once, but four times. Twice with drool.
Monday, April 09, 2012
Sunday, April 08, 2012
I got to the dealership, parked under the service awning and left my key with my boss, telling him what I wanted done.
His face was PALE.
“Did you have any trouble getting here today?”
Again, I replied, no…
But then I hesitated, thought for a second and said, well, not today – but the LAST time I drove it, I slid on the ice leaving the neighborhood, but then I was fine all the way to Dallas and back.
He stepped all the way in and I was startled to see that he was even more pale.
“You drove all the way to Dallas and back home? …. in this car? …. in the ICE?!??!”
What was wrong? I needed to know what he was getting at.
I mean no brakes.
I was in the right place to get it fixed – how I got there safely that day can only be described as a miracle.