Yesterday, when I was young...

Do you remember that song that goes "Yesterday, when I was young, and the taste of life was sweet, like rain upon my tongue."?  I can hear it playing in my head, but the words do not jell any more.  This is like so many other things in my life that have gone awry. 

I remember when beer bottles had screw on caps and sometimes they were a little hard to grasp and that is why God gave us teeth; to open bottle caps!  Alas, those days are over and gone.  Well, actually, so are the teeth.  I think I used to have 32, but that number is slowly dwindling.  Granted, four of them were wisdom teeth which never fit anyway, but nonetheless, they were there.  Unfortunately the caps that were so easily removed with my super powerful jaws have now been replaced by caps devised by a mad scientist.  The first thing I need to do is read the "how to remove cap" instructions printed on the miniscule cap.  Well, the very first thing I have to do is find the magnifying glass so I can SEE the instructions.  Ok, here we go!

To remove cap grasp bottle firmly.  Push down on cap while twisting counterclockwise.  You may need to exert extra pressure.  Now, we are dealing with a prescription bottle with a cap that is maybe an inch across.  My fingers quit bending that far many years back, but I am game to try.  So I grasp the bottle firmly in my left hand.  I press my right hand onto the cap.  Everything is plastic and of course my hands are sweaty in anticipation of this chore.  Ok, push down and twist counterclockwise.  I am assuming the cap goes counterclockwise; not the bottle.  And in a perfect world, something would turn and something would open.  Hell, maybe I was supposed to turn myself counterclockwise.  So, I try again.  Once more with feeling!  So this time I grasp the bottle in my right hand with the cap in my left.  Counterclockwise should still be the same direction.  I recall life lessons that say "Lefty loosey, righty tighty."  Sounds great in theory.

By this time I have worked up a sweat and wonder if I really need these blood pressure pills open at all.  Surely some one will stop by later today and they will open them for me.  This leads me to remember all the things I need open, like the jar of pickles, the bottle of lavendar cleaner, and that bottle of aphid killer that I threw across the fence in total frustration.  What has my life become?  I can not even try to catch the rain on my tongue anymore, because I might catch pneumonia instead. 

And all this brings me to the crux of the matter.  I am getting old.  Not only are my fingers stiff and my teeth gone, even words take on new meaning.  Like colon is no longer a punctuation mark, it is now something inside me to be babied and cleansed on a regular basis.   Will no longer means determination, it is something I have to make and file with the court or when I go toes up the state of Colorado will be my beneficiary!  Friends and family are no longer just people to be cherished, they are to be feared and revered and do not tick them off or they will not come to my funeral.  (I do not want to be the only one there!)  Walker is no longer someone I meet on the path, it is what holds me up.  Depends is not an act you perform when counting on someone to do something, it is now a noun to replace "string bikini or thong."

And I could go on all day, but I can't because I want to make a cake and I have got to get that new bottle of vanilla open.  Think I will take it down to the Senior Center and make that our challenge for the day!  Please do not laugh at this because one of these days you are going to be wanting to taste the rain only to find that it is now acid rain and you want no part of that!

***********************sponsors****************
Father's Day Gifts for the Chef with Everything at CHEFS Catalog - Shop Now
BUNN Velocity Brew - 15% off - Text
70% Off From Billabong, RVCA, Rip Curl, O’Neill and Other Popular Brands!
Save on Snacks and Party Favorite Foods
Primary
Primary
Mrs. Fields Gifts

Merry Christmas to Icarus, apparently!

This is the fountain that Bret and Amanda gave me for Christmas.  It is battery operated and sets on the counter by the bathroom sink.  It has a few rocks scattered on the base.  At one time it had more then a few, but here is the deal...Icarus thinks that this is her personal water fountain.  When she pops up there on the counter, which can be any time day or night, I am expected to switch it on so she can lap the water.  Like this:

If I am not there quickly enough she will take her delicate little paw and slide a rock over to the side and on to the counter.  Then she will take that same little paw and whack it and send it flying across the room.  Some times she drops them in the sink and then tries to get them out of there.  That makes noise that gets my attention.  So my question here is whose Christmas present was this, mine or the cat's?

This is the busiest cat I have every seen.  Sometimes when I am in the kitchen I will feel eyes on me.  When I look up that cat is invariably hanging down over the top of one of the cupboards watching me.  She will stay in that position until I forget she is there and then drop down and land on the counter behind me.  That is always good for the old cardiovascular as well as cleanliness in the kitchen.

She reads book!

Helps me with my blog!

Has long talks with Daisy!

And naps with Elvira!

Early in the morning and early in the evening, I go out to do my chores.  I am, of course, accompanied by two dogs and a cat that thinks she is a dog.  Course lots of time I arrive at the fowl house to find her already waiting for me there.  She waits on top of it.  She does not seem too alarmed when I explain about the fox.  When we come back to the house she runs ahead as the dogs like to ding around.  She hides behind a bucket by the gate and leaps out at them as the come trotting by.  Never ceases to scare the dickens out of them. 

Night time will find her either sleeping on the other side of the bed, or setting in my window if the moon is bright.  Have no idea what she is looking at out there, but I do know I sure sleep better with the two dogs in their beds at the bottom of the bed and the cat over there sound asleep.  One consolation there is as long as she is there I am confident she is not out some where getting ready to bring me my breakfast of a mouse, centipede or some other of God's creatures to brighten my night time hours.!

Thanks to the Wiccan for giving me a cat that fits so well into my lifestyle!

http://www.chefscatalog.com/catalog/customer-favorites.aspx?scommand=refine&rbc=Category&rbv=Cookware&rf=0&sbv=CustomerRating&re=

Woke up this morning, Nickerson on my mind.

That should be a country western song!  Woke up this morning, you were on my mind.  Forget who sang that, but this morning I woke up remembering when I was a little girl in Nickerson, Kansas and for some reason I was remembering the layout of the school and the lunch room.  Lunch room?  Who am I kidding?  The school was a red brick which was 2 stories tall.  There were 4 double doors to get into the school; two in front and two in back.  Face the school and on your left was the main entrance.

Well, here I made a little sketch of it.  It is not drawn to scale, but let me tell you, on top is the bottom floor.  See you come in the main entrance which is the upper left corner.  On your right is the first grade room.  I remember the alphabet marching above the black board.  But that is not why we are here.  See that hallway running down the middle?  See that table and those benches?  That was the lunch room.  At the end of the hall was the kitchen, restrooms and janitor.  Here was the heart of the school as far as I could tell!
Now this is what I looked like back then.  This is actually my mother, but even today I could pass for her.  Look at those shoes!   Button ups!  I wore brown Buster Browns.  Remember that ad?  "Arf!" then "That's my dog Tide.  He lives in a shoe.  I'm Buster Brown, look for me in there too!"  They came in two colors.  Black and Brown.  I mean you could get a pair of Black shoes or a pair of brown shoes.  In later years they introduced white and then combined white with them and the Saddle Oxford was born!  That is a whole nuther story.

Ah, the kitchen!  When we arrived at school the ladies were all ready at work cooking.  Mrs. Ritchie was the cook and her brother-in-law, Mr. Ritchie was the janitor.  I think that was right.  In later years, I think he committed suicide.  I recall her as a short, kind of heavy, very sweet lady.  He was always very kind.  Anyway, at the appointed time the kids were allowed to file past the end of the table and pick up their plates and a carton of milk.  (I think it was actually still in glass bottles at that time.)  That was if you could afford the meals.  If not you took your lunch sack, pail, or box and set at the far end of the table.  Seems like the far end was always more populated than the hot meal kids. Although I remember eating hot meals there, so it must have happened a  time or two any way.  I know I carried my lunch in a paper bag which I must be sure to bring home.  Do not remember what I ate, but I do remember that meat was a rarity and peanut butter was a real treat!  And bread was a nickle a loaf!  (I also remember being very jealous of the kids who had the fancy tin lunch boxes.  And today they sell on eBay like gold!)
And another thing, showing that the government was always taking care of us was that once a month, in the middle of the morning, we were sent down to the tables where we were given a paper cup full of orange juice.  This was given to us so we got out vitamin c and did not develop Rickets or some such incurable disease.  I am sure that the one glass of orange juice once a month was the only thing standing between me and being dead today!  But it sure was good orange juice, and the only time we ever had it!
Now a lunch room is a far different thing.  No way would kids be allowed to eat in the hallway.  I know when they were building the new grade school in Nickerson, one of the selling factors was that it would have a lunch room!  Course it was built after I left grade school, so I never got to see it.
Another thing that stands out in my mind is the music room.  It was at the head of the stairs and very small.  There were shades on the windows that were designed to block out light or to keep light from escaping.  This was in case the Germans or Japanese or  some one came and bombed us.  I do not think we ever used them, but you just never knew back then what might transpire.  Early in my school days, the district purchased an older frame school building and moved it to the property and it became our new Music Room.  When it was time for music we marched single file out the door, across the school yard (being careful to stay on the side walk so as not to step on any of the weeds.), and into the music building, which was very big and very airy and we loved it.  Miss Barkiss was our teacher and some years later she would marry David Houston, son of the principal of our school.  That is all I know about that!
I do remember the last day of school was always cause for celebration.  We would be full of anticipation for the coming summer, but we would be sad because we would not see our friends.  Seems people did not visit then like they do now.  Oh I would walk over to my best friend, Barbara Hawk's house and we would play, but that was a long ways over there and when I left she would walk me half way home.  But school ending was always a big deal.  We may have had a picnic!  I think we did!  And the band would play and we would listen. And my eighth grade year which was my last, a bird flew over and pooped right on Gay as she played her Clarinet and she did not even wince, just kept right on playing!  Always admired her for that though I never told her so.
I often wonder about my teachers. Miss Donough  was first grade and she married a guy I think was named Breece in the middle of the year.  Mrs. Wait was second grade, Miss Holmes was third,  Mrs. Howe was fourth.  (She got a thorn in her intestine and almost died.)  Miss Swenson was 5th, Miss Lauver was sixth, Mr. Bollinger was 7th and Mr. Schriber was 8th.  At least that is how it goes in my mind.  Nobody ever quit.  Nobody ever got fired.  Nobody ever molested anybody and as far as I know they are still all there in Nickerson, Kansas where I left them.  Mr. Bollinger owned the movie theater and tickets were 7 cents.  It was open on Friday night and Saturday afternoon.
When I was in 4th grade Aunt Helen came and enrolled me in Brownies, which was the precursor to Girl Scouts.  Bought me a brownie dress and hat.  She was very rich and had no kids.  Her brother was Frank Wocknitz who made bologna named "Tony's Bologna" and it was the only kind we ever ate and was carried by both grocery stores.  Lord only knew what was in that other bologna.  And when he died, that was the end of the business cause he took the recipe to the grave.
Well, I could gas all day long here, but I need to get busy.  The memory is a wonderful thing.  I am sure mine is accurate.  But if it isn't one of two things will happen; either someone will email me with their memory or they will say, " Oh, I had forgotten that!  I am so glad she remembered!"  But if there is anyone out there who remembers my good old days, and me, give me a holler.  We will have a great visit, if we remember why we came.

The Lamb Funeral Home and Orson Wells!!

Now, you might wonder what those 2 have in common, but just bear with me. Back in Nickerson, Kansas where I grew up, there were few opportuities for employment. The main one  for me,was babysitting. Mr. and Mrs. Lamb owned the funeral home and had (I think) 6 kids. At the time I was probably 14 or so. I realize I could research and find the exact date, but will not do that and will rely on your memory.

The appointed night came and Mr. Lamb picked me up and took me to their dwelling place which just happened to be over the funeral home. There also just happened to be a body laying in state there. As a matter of course, he gave me a brief tour, which included showing me the casket room! Are you getting the picture yet? You will.

Before they left they turned on the television, which was the first one I had ever seen. The kiddies were soon settled in their wee little beds. They were all redheads and the youngest was about 6 months and the oldest probably 5. They were so cute!

Anyway, with the kiddies in bed, bedtime story read, I tidied the kitchen and set down on the couch to watch this television! Do you remember when the Orson Welles (I think) movie came out named War of the Worlds and caused a panic all over the United States for it's opening? The announcer came on and made the announcement that the world was ending and then the electricity went off! The phone rang and I picked it up to hear the man who was tending the body tell his wife that he would be right home since there was no electric here.

What kind of shape do you think I was in when I put down that phone? Here I was alone with 5 kids, no electric, a bunch of coffins in the next room, and a dead body down stairs!  I was pretty sure if the world was ending that I had a problem!!

I went in to set with the kids in their final hours, but they were sound asleep and had no idea what they were in for here! Need I paint the vivid picture of that night? The groveling and begging God to save me and such. I bet the lights were out for about 30 minutes, but that was the longest 30 minutes of my life. I have never been as happy to see anyone in my entire life as I was to see those people come home.

It is strange that something that was so traumatic on me as that night can now be something that is so funny today. I ran into the Lamb's in South Fork 20 or so years ago and we got quite the chuckle out of that night.
I guess the way to face your biggest fear is to remember that someday you will look back on this and laugh!

Have a good one!

Klear Nearly Day or Near Klearly or something like that.

I forgot to tell you, Nickerson, Kansas also has a special day in the summer which is called Klear Nearly or Near Klearly or something along that line. If anyone out there remembers, give me a shout out because otherwise I will need to go research it and I have the little baby today and do not have time for that.
When I have the little baby, I have to be alert. If I am not alert the dogs will lick him and he feels  neglected if I wander off from him. Babies need lots of care. They are also very messy, especially the bottom half!

Button up your coat!

I heard some one say "Button up your coat!" That started me thinking about the way we talk and I realize a lot of it hearkens back to the olden times. Like "Button up your coat." If you think about it, that is the correct way to button because you can start at the bottom with the buttons matching and it will button straight. If you start at the top, you really can not see to match them and when you get to the bottom, sometimes one side hangs down below the other.

"Put that book down!" would seem to mean that it should go on the floor as that is the location of "down." We need to be more specific with the kiddies. "Place the book on the table." Now you may wonder, what got me off on this tangent. It was the trash.

I told Bret, "That trash needs to go out." Seems like a harmless statement on the surface, but I could see his wheels turn. So I amended the statement, "That trash needs to go out and you need to be the one to take it out (then I added) to the barrel that is located by the carport and you need to open the lid and place it inside and replace the lid then you need to walk away leaving it behind." I think he did it on his way to work.

He used to be so cute! What happened? Where did I go wrong? I never whacked him in the head I don't care what you think! The last I remember he was a tiny boy coming to the door with both his hands clutching something and saying "Let me in! I have too many hands!" Now he just gives the door a kick and comes on in. Well, at least he has learned to fend for himself!

Well, that is it for the day. Got to go do the Java Automatic Update so it will quit flashing at me. Enjoy your day, and think carefully about all you sentences. You could start a world war!!

It is my nap time and your point exactly?

Yesterday I missed my nap! I was very busy since I had to take my 90+ friend to the doctor. She does not drive any more. Well, personally I am rather glad about that. Hope I can give up my license long before that. Actually, I could throw that sucker in the pile right now and we would probably all be better off, but maybe not.

Back to the crux of this blog today. When the clock starts pointing to 1:30 or 2:00 o'clock, my little mind starts looking for a place to lay the body down for just a few minutes. Just a short nap, you know. Nothing that drags on, that is called bedtime and that lasts for 8 hours. I figure it this way:

I am pushing 70 and I am not going to miss out on much if I have a short nappy poo. I just lay there on the bed with the telephone right beside me, because we all know if I don't it will ring, but if I do it won't. That is called Karma! I work hard when I am awake, so after this many years, if I selfishly want to take 30 or 40 minutes for myself in the middle of the day, I think I have earned that right.

Now I know realistically I am wasting time. I have been doing the nap thing for probably 6 years. At 30 minutes a day for 6 years that comes to 65,700 minutes which becomes 1,095 hours which becomes 45.625 days, which becomes 6.52 weeks. You know, now that I figure this out logically, I am wasting a lot ot time laying on my duff!

I could get a lot done in 1,095 hours. And sometimes the nap is a little longer. OMG! Talk about wasting time! I could get a lot of weaving done. I could cover this house in blankets. Ok, here is what I will do; I am going to start taking a nap every other day. I will nap on Sunday, Tuesday, Thursday. That will free me up to hit the garage sales on Friday and Saturday!

You know, I am kind of glad we had this little talk! Wait, we did not have a talk. I am talking to myself! That is what a blog is, I think. They call it journaling, but it is basically talking to myself! So if I give up the napping, I will have more time to talk to myself. I sure feel better about life now!

Sign my widget over there so you can be a follower. I might actually say something some day and you wouldn't want to miss it, would you? I want to have at least 11 followers by the time I croak! And remember, There is a big difference between a follower and a stalker!

Hansel and Gretel: a bedtime horror story for the kiddies!

I just finished reading a horror story! Wait a minute before you pass judgement, I think I am on to something here. Did you ever read nursery rhymes? I mean really read them? Back when you were a wee one, perhaps your mother read them to you. How did you sleep after that? Let me just give you a synopsis of Hansel and Gretel as retold by Rika Lesser.
This book was originally written by Wilhelm Grimm in 1810 and printed in 1812. It has been cleaned up because as I recall, it was a lot scarier the first 6 times around. As it is currently written, it is pretty scary. As the book opens, the father and stepmother are laying in bed and the stepmother tells the father he must take the children to the forest and abandon them or they all will starve. Pretty spooky, huh?
Hansel tells Gretel of her plan and goes out in the yard and picks up stones. The parents take them into the woods and Hansel leaves a trail of stones. Parents drop them in forest and when it gets dark the kids follow the trail of stones back to the house. Daddy was glad to see them but the evil stepmother was not! (Now this is probably where we get our ingrained sense of stepmother's being evil!)
Again the household runs out of food and the trip is planned again. This time the door is locked and Hansel can not gather stones. So the next day he crumbles his bread and leaves a trail. Silly boy! Birds ate the bread. Now they are really screwed. Of course, you remember the rest of the story. They find the gingerbread house and then are held captive by the old woman. Hansel is fattened up to be eaten and Gretel is the slave.
The old woman gets greedy and decides to eat Gretel first, telling her to crawl in the oven to see if the bread is done and Gretel tells her "Show me how"and the old woman crawls in the oven and Gretel slams the door, lets Hansel out of his pen. Then they go back and take all the jewels the old woman had and miraculously find there way home to learn the stepmother was dead also and they all lived happily ever after!
Let us dissect this story. Hansel and Gretel slept in the same bed. There is one for social services! They are abandoned in a forest. One is subject to child labor law violations, the other will be fattened for fodder. Gretel is a cold blooded murderer. Both of them are thieves! Found their way home with pure dumb luck, or maybe the witch had a GPS in with her jewels. They are overjoyed to find the stepmother dead. Now the old man becomes an accomplice. I can see all kinds of reasons whereby I would not be able to sleep after reading this story. Can't you?
If this were the only one, it would be different, but nursey rhymes were scary and evil! Tom, Tom the pipers son, stole a pig and away he run. (Thief) Little Boy Blue fell asleep while violating child labor laws. Hey diddle, diddle, the cow jumped over the moon! Where will that sucker land? Old Mother Hubbard could not feed her dog! The old woman who lived in a shoe fed her kids broth without any bread! And on and on go the fairy tales. And we don't wonder where we went wrong raising our kids? We read to them!
I think in later years the tales had a better ending. Now Hansel and Gretel would need seperate rooms from birth. The Gingerbread house would not pass the building code. There are no forests. The stepmother would be kept alive on life support paid for by Medicaid.

Just some thoughts from my demented mind!