Stick To What I Do Well

Some life lessons have taught me to stick with what I am good at and what I know.

My first Thanksgiving dinner as a married woman, I was 18 years old and had never really cooked much. Living in various foster homes and then on my own for a year in a little apartment, I opened cans of soup but no cooking from scratch.

The turkey turned out pretty good but the guests were there with advice and there were plenty of hands to help make mashed potatoes and gravy. After dinner I proudly served up pieces of pie I had made the day before. I had made pies in high school home economics class (is there even still such a thing now?) but I had never made pumpkin pies. In my nervousness and excitement I neglected to add spices to the pumpkin mixture. I didn't taste the pies myself until later after the guests were gone. Not one of them mentioned how horrible the pumpkin pie was and they ate most of their servings. I don't know how they did it. Pies are just not my thing. I can make a good brownie and some pretty good cookies. I can stand aside and allow others to bask in the limelight with their pies.

Traditions

Reading blogs in preparation for the Christmas holiday, I enjoyed reading about the different traditions families have established and maintained through the years. It has been a joy to me to read between the lines of the kindness and exhilaration each year as people unpack their decorations and invite their loved ones to participate in the rituals of the holiday.

It still amazes me to get to know some wonderful people in blogland who have lived in a home many years and even more astounding to be in a relationship many many years. Growing up in the family I was born into was not about consistency except in the dysfunctional way we related to each other. I am making friends online with people who come from rock solid happy homes with parents who live as examples of mature and loving adults and that joy is rubbing off on me.

I have been thinking of the things throughout my adult years that brought me joy at Christmas. And I am starting our own traditions in our little hippie life. I think there were some things that each of my children carried into their adult lives that they call their traditions and that makes me happy they found some joy to take with them into their own families.

One tradition here is to use at least some of the angels I have collected over many years. I tried different themes as a young adult: All silver; then silver and blue; even sprayed tumbleweeds stacked in the shape of a tree and tied with red ribbons; one of my favorites was a couple years doing every holiday with a patriotic theme. I guess I was searching for what suited me best for a long time. I started collecting angels while I was still trying different themes. One year I decorated a Charlie Brown Christmas tree with some of the angels and that has been the only decorations I have used since then. I did not decorate every year though. On holidays I did not put up any decorations and was alone at Christmas things did not feel right. So putting up some decorations is a good thing for me and handling each angel and remembering what part of the world I was visiting or residing when I bought each angel is part of the tradition too. Hubby has a connection to the angels as well, and we share a gratefulness for the unseen and unknown angels in each of our lives throughout our lives.

I am still working on more traditions for us to initiate and carry forward in our little hippie home. We are only two but we are a family. Building traditions is a good thing whenever they begin. Any and all suggestions are welcome. Thank you.

Merry Christmas

From our house to your house
We wish you joy and good cheer
May your love cup runneth over
To last the whole year


Merry Christmas

A Little Christmas Fun

Excitement in the air
Building each night
in the month of December

At last the eve of the holiday
arrives for one and all
Each with their own traditions

Candles in all the windows
Replicating the guiding stars
Bringing peace and joy

There is no deep sleep tonight
Waiting for imaginary sounds
And sugar plums dancing in heads

Wait! What is that sound?
Hooves tromping on the roof
Quiet bells making music

Then a big THUD in the living room
Like a heavy load has been dropped
Must be all the holiday pressure


Candle photo found on Google

Christmas Lights

Which type of Christmas light putter-upper are you?

Enjoy the Christmas lights.

Found on Sand in the Gears.

The Song In The Wind

Charming picture found on Google.



The wind, oh, the mighty wind
Ferocious and demanding
Then tame and gentle

Rising to a crescendo
Reaching mighty heights
A wind choir to be heard

Blowing with impressive power
Possessing the robust force
Of an immense monster

Riding the highs and lows
Whopping, emphatic sounds
Dwindle in volume

Sing to me, oh wind
Your showy, vulgar music
Forced upon my heart

Little Boy in 1924

This is a picture of my father. He was born 89 years ago today and is three years old in this picture. He had his sight at the time of this picture. At age fifteen he lost 98% of his sight. He and his friends would hunt in the woods and drink homemade hootch. Sometimes things like gasoline would be added to it. Ignorance is definitely not bliss. Of his group of friends, my father was the only one drinking bad homemade brew and it caused major damage to his optic nerves. I don't know what it would be like to be legally blind, but by the time I came to know him he was a very unhappy man. Just about every day I was around him which wasn't all the time as a young child, my father drank. A lot.

My brother and I watched our father lose control and a sadistic streak take over. He would burn our mother with matches and cigarettes and choke her. The spankings with a belt left my brother wounded and cut and bruised. He poured beer down the throat of my cat. His impulsive behavior affected each of us and stayed with us many years. Ironic that my father was the first one in our family to pass away.

By the time he died, I had come to terms with my feelings about my father. I had let go of the need to seek him out periodically in whatever state or country he would be residing, to try to establish a father-daughter relationship. The last time I traveled to see my father (my first husband), I left my then two young children with their father and I planned on spending a few days with my dad. He didn't make any physical advances to me, but when I arrived at his place he told me I would have to sleep in his bed with him as he didn't have any guest room for me. And he proceeded to tell me that he slept in the nude. I insisted that sleeping on his couch would be better for me. I thought I was just being silly about the uncomfortable feeling I was getting when he spoke of the sleeping arrangements.

The next day my father and I flew to another place to do some sight seeing. When we were checking into a hotel my father told the desk clerk we wanted a king bed. I spoke up and told the desk clerk that he was my father and we wanted two rooms. Things did not go well and after one day of sight seeing I told my father I was going home early. I changed my reservation and left that day.

That was the first time I found a therapist and visited her a few times. I was depressed after the time I spent with my father. The therapist helped me understand that I was repeatedly looking for my father to be something he just could not be. He could not be a father like I wanted. It was not going to happen. Finally I was able to let go and get on with my life. Not that I was suddenly healthy emotionally, just that the one expectation regarding my father was no longer bringing me disappointment and pain.

Over the years since my father passed away in 1986 I have continued to work on my own unhealthy survival behavior that I adopted while living with an emotionally disturbed mother and an alcoholic father. Today I send my father understanding and love to the best of my ability. The scars have pretty much healed within me, and I hope that wherever he is, his scars have healed and his sight is completely restored.

This is not a sad post. This is me, fumbling along in a lifetime of recovery, grateful for the redemption.

Brownies Don't Have To Be Square

Maybe it is my personality or just defiance, but when I hear "brownie squares" it hits a nerve. I like brownies and we make them here sometimes but they do not have to be square. Personally, I think it is a square idea to insist brownies are better when cut into squares.

Instead of using a square pan to cook brownies, I use a round pan. Yes, ROUND. Untraditional, yes?

Cut out a heart in the center of the brownies that have been baked in a round baking dish. Put the heart brownie big enough for two onto a serving plate. Splash chocolate around the brownies and add a dollup of vanilla ice cream. A romantic dessert for two for any occasion. We don't have ice cream on our brownie in the photo and we have a pot of Christmas tea that accompanied the delicious brownies. What do you think the red thing on top of the brownie is? Hmmmm.

What to do with the rest of the cooked brownie: Small triangle pieces of brownies are perfect on top of a dessert dish of ice cream with a piece of fruit and nuts added.

See what I mean? Time to think outside the box, er, square.

Rating Reading

Reading some books is like walking through fields of thistles. Struggling to walk through brambles and thorns sometimes while stepping over and around obstacles. Clothes and limbs bleeding when the end of the book is reached.

Reading other books is more of an adventure without the hardship. Reading each chapter is like balancing on moss covered stones in waist deep freezing water. There is the anxiety of remaining erect while at the same time daring the slippery stones to drop me into the cold water.

Some books are too tame for me. They don't cause me to think or use my imagination. I am just reading words. It only takes a few pages of reading to know this type of book is not going to hold my interest.

This scale reminds me of The Three Bears, porridge too hot, too cold, and just right. The books that interest me are somewhere between too hot and just right.

Food Fight!

They had been dating six months. The rare dinner in a restaurant was a celebration of the six month anniversary.

After salads and during the main course things took a wrong turn. While discussing their former lives, a lie became clear and soon was a big problem.

She quietly reached for her spoon, shoveled a large spoonful of her mashed potatoes, and threw the potatoes at his face.

In retaliation, he scooped up his green beans with his hand and threw them at her.

The waiter and the manager were at the table by then, asking them to leave.

The relationship was over. Dishonesty was not allowed.

Gary The Potter Did It Again

The latest item we ordered from Gary Rith, potter extraordinaire, is a gift for the granddaughter. Actually for her dog. She has a yellow lab and I asked Gary to make a food bowl for her dog and he did a great job.


Today is my granddaughter's thirteenth birthday. I sent the doggie bowl to her in plenty of time to arrive before the special day and her mom kept the present till today.

Success!! My granddaughter appreciates the yellow lab hanging on the side of the bowl and she thinks Gary is a pro potter. This is one of the best received gifts ever.

Thank you, Gary, for another wonderful piece of hand made pottery. We're not done with you yet! We have a couple more items we are watching for on your blog and etsy.

Wind Down In The Evening

Wind down time, not rev up time. That's why evenings were made.

No heavy discussions in the evening. No mail to read either. If I haven't gotten the mail earlier in the day then the mail can wait till the next day. I won't read mail in the evening.

Insomnia was a frequent robber of sleep most of my life. Various reasons for the variety of life situations. Noise is a contributing factor as well as unhappiness and depression. I started sleeping better when I was with hubby, at least able to sleep several hours at one time. These days I sleep through the night most of the time with a couple quick trips in a half awake state to the bathroom.

Mornings are my favorite part of the day. And things go downhill from there. Afternoon is okay and then evening is for getting ready mentally for night. Night is only for going to bed and getting sleep so I can welcome another morning.

Thank goodness not everyone wants to be be up at the same time and thank goodness everyone doesn't want to live in the same place. Think how crowded that would be.

Library In A Small Town

Our first trip to the library in our new little town was a great exerience. Checking out books and devouring them in two weeks time has been our pattern. I admit to having expectations of the small town library as being less than adequate to meet my reading needs.

We arrived at the library at nine in the morning only to read the sign on the door that it opens at one. Oh.

The library is currently housed in a two story brick building. It is the smallest library I have ever visited but it is so full of books they are practically spilling out the windows. It was more like visiting a thrift store that specializes in used books than a library.

Not only did I find ten books I checked out, there were many authors on my to-read list so I know I have lots more books to check out there.

We spent lots of time searching through the double layers of books lined up all around the room and enjoyed every minute. I mentioned to hubby as we were looking that I thought they wouldn't have any Walter Mosley books out here in this little town but he found one for me while he was across the room rummaging through the books there. Yay. And I found Marcia Muller and Greg Isles and plenty to interest me.

As I was checking out, the librarian told me about the downstairs area. I will check that out next time. She said they have different things to check out that can be found downstairs. They have 35 cake pans of different shapes with the directions on how to make the specialty cakes. I think I will find a cake pan to make a Christmas cake.

I was not disappointed in what I found at the library in our new little town and I was pleasantly surprised. There was a dedication at the site of a new library last week and construction begins now. They raised one and a half million dollars to build a new library, so that too gives me hope that one of the most important components of my life is important to others in this town. Another proof that we have come home.

Give Thanks

FOR:

Another day waking up, still breathing

Knowing right from wrong and trying to do right

Family traditions like Thanksgiving Day

Seeking truth

Attitude adjustments

Limber joints

An open mind

Music

French roast coffee beans

Bloggers with talent, humor, big hearts


For many families Thanksgiving Day is about long hours of cooking, a few minutes of eating, lots of talking, watching football, and eating leftovers.

For James and me Thanksgiving is another day of our forever honeymoon. Enjoying being together and thankful for every day we have been blessed since we found each other.

Whatever your Thanksgiving is like, we send love and hugs out in the blogosphere. May it reach you and help enrich your Thanksgiving Day.

Letting It All Hang Out

She was in the eighth grade in a Catholic school. The graduation party was at a private residence with a pool. The graduates had opted for a pool party instead of an evening dance party. This was a great concession for the principal to agree to a swim party. That meant (nervous drumroll) gasp! Bathing suits.

Only one piece bathing suits were allowed for the girls. None of those two piece things that showed a girl's belly. Outrageous, revealing skin.

This was the only year at this school. She had moved from another town and had attended a different Catholic school for seven years. So she had not grown up with the students in the eighth grade class.

This was a coed school, so there were boys in the class. The home with the pool was the home of one of the students. She had never seen such a large and expensive house from the inside before. The students were ushered to the back yard with no stops along the way, but her eyes were saucers as she saw the plush sofas and beautiful artwork on the walls and shiny wood floors. There was no envy, just amazement and wonder at how some people lived.

She followed the example of some of the other girls, swim a little bit, get out, lay on towels and work on the tan. The rest of the girls untied their straps from around their necks to keep from getting the annoying tan line, so she untied hers too. She was not used to swimming in pools or in "working on the tan". She and her brother and friends swam in the irrigation ditches and at the river bottom.

As she laid on her stomach, enjoying the camaraderie, the girls jumped up for another dip in the pool. Following their lead, she braced her arms and stood up. Oops. Her hand had been on the string that tied the top of her bathing suit. When she pushed up, the top of the bathing suit came down. So there she was for a few seconds with her top down, in front of the whole class.

It was interesting to see the faces changing from shock to kindness. Both boys and girls let the incident go. If they talked amongst themselves about it, she didn't hear it and they pretended it did not happen. That was what impressed her the most about the incident. Kindness was a new experience.

Some Things I Avoid

Aspartame (see previous post here)

Statins (see this article)

Sugar substitutes

White bread

Books with extremely small print

Dishonest people

Deep fried food (Exception: French Fries) Ha

Caffeine after two o'clock in the afternoon

Unkind people

Television

Crowds

Wasting food

Shopping

Debt

A Great Fit

When my three children were young my time for myself was often when I had a bath. Having an evening bath has always been relaxing for me.

Last night I had Calgon time. Pouring extra Calgon into the bathtub, I told hubby I would be awhile. No rubber duckies for me; the toy stuffed dog is our only "pet".

Stepping into the tub in the new place was welcoming. The temperature was just right. Very warm. I scooted around in the tub and then I realized something. This is a righteous bathtub for a little rental cottage. The back of the tub is made for someone like me. It slants upward with a slight curve for the back. No need to roll a towel for under my head or use a bath pillow. This tub is made for laying back and relaxing. Can you see the indentation for my head? But the best part is it comes equipped with arm rests. Have you ever had arm rests molded into the bath tub? This is amazing. I was so comfortable I was snoozing when I heard from somewhere far away my sweet hubby asking if I had fallen asleep in there.

"Wazzat?" was all I could say.

He laughed.

Finally I knew I was home in our new little hippie house. The bath tub was made for me. It is a perfect fit. I think I will email the owner and tell him thank you from his newest tenant.

Appliance Obits

The week we were moving the washing machine died. We were able to get a really nice newer used washer delivered and the old washer hauled away the day before we moved.

We have used the new washer with much satisfaction which has pointed out how costly the old dryer is now. It is a 3/4 size dryer and doesn't dry thoroughly with one cycle. We have to run the dryer two times to get clothes dry. Hmmm. So this week we will look for a better dryer.

The picture of the 1955 refrigerator was found on Google. The refrigerator supplied to us in the new little hippie house was cute to look at, made me want to get out the old jello recipes, but not very efficient at all. One door and a teensy little freezer compartment inside that was so full of ice we had half of the space to use because the ice took up the other half. And the tray beneath the little teensy freezer was so packed solid with ice that the ice cube trays the previous tenant had there would not budge. So I used a wooden spoon to try to get the ice cube trays out and threw them in the trash. The refrigerator must be as old as I am. Never in my adult life have I had a frig with only one door; the freezer was either on top or bottom but always had its own door. A whole frozen pizza wouldn't even fit into this little teensy freezer compartment.

While I was working away with the long wooden spoon, hubby decided I must have been enjoying my noise making way too much as he appeared by my side with a small hammer. He lightly tapped some of the solid ice inside the teensy freezer and wow, it did break up the ice so much faster. So then I used hammer and he got a screwdriver and then we were both having a great time chunking and clinking and making trips to the sink with huge chunks of ice. But all of a sudden there was huge hisssssss and stuff was blowing out of the bottom of the little teensy freezer. OMG we ruined the freezer.
The little cute only one door refrigerator was hissing all the freon out and we looked at each other and decided we had to get a different frig as soon as possible. We each got on our computers and looked around online. Being a Sunday the used appliance places were not open. Of course nothing was open in our new little town and we were not sure the appliance store listed in this little town was even still active. So we hopped in the car and drove to the next town which in comparison is big city. We found a Sears store open and bought a new refrigerator, an energy efficient one. Lucky for us they were willing to work us into their delivery schedule and will bring the new frig and set it up tonight. A brand new refrigerator with a top freezer with its own door. I am blessed I tell you, blessed. Next time the large pizzas with thin crust are on sale I will get several. Now I have plenty of room. Amen.

Taking Matters Into My Own Hands

I can see the benefit to me to make up my own words and also to correct the spelling in the dictionary we all use. Who says the dictionary people get to decide spelling and then force their opinions on the rest of us?

Some people in the news lately have been showing their mentality quotient by doing just this. Like the people out in Arizona who are fighting the city council for deciding to have only one trash pickup company allowed in their gorgeous and expensive neighborhood. It was getting pretty hairy for five different disposal trucks to maneuver around on trash day, not to mention the destruction of the roads. But, noooooo, some people want their say. They resent having their "choice" taken away. So we will be hearing about the so-called injustice of that trash for awhile.

For me, I will continue making up my own words even if no one else wants to learn my new language. Heck, I can talk to myself, I already do that occasionally anyway. Even more fun if I talk and answer and no one could understand.

Regarding the spelling being forced on us in the dictionary. A good example is the word asinine. That is spelled so wrong. It is just wrong. It should be assinine. Don't you agree?

It's is okay if you agree with the bird in the graphic found on Google.

Tired Pussy

This is how I feel after the move. Now I have a cold too. Not whining. Much.

Good thing hubby and I both were in good physical shape for the work of the move.

I have to be truthful. I was crabby and hurt all over and didn't do as well and I wanted to do during the move. It wasn't moving hell though. On a scale of one to ten, ten being a horrible move, this was probably a four most of the time except for the few times I cranked it up to nine. Poor hubby. He could hardly stand up with the sore legs, arms, back, neck. He kept moving one step in front of another just to get it done. I on the other hand, wanted to stand in the street, throw myself onto the top of the moving van, and demand we call 911 for help in unloading the stupid truck. Did I mention we are OLD?

So I stood in the back of the truck and threw some things out of the truck onto the lawn and front porch of the new house. JUST GOTTA GET THE STUFF OUT OF THE TRUCK. We really thought that since we had eliminated about half of our household possessions we would be able to do this move by ourselves. Yeah, we are old but we are strong, we can do this we told each other. Ha. The good thing is how we hung in there together. Nothing was so bad that we forgot the important core of the relationship.

As I read comments on the last posts on the move, I realized I didn't speak about the crabby me and the extreme tired state I got to. The original plan was to get the truck and load most of it the first day and get rest and then finish putting last couple items into the truck in the morning and final clean and head out. The plan changed just before we picked up the truck. So everything was packed into the truck and final cleaning done and then we each drove a vehicle to the new place. I had packed so much into the car I could barely shift into reverse or into fifth gear. The first part of drive was through town, so that meant slowing, stopping at lights, and for me that meant shifting over and over which I usually like. But I was getting leg cramps and my leg was shaking and I was rubbing it until we got out on the highway. Then we got to the new house and started unloading the truck. You see, I was done by that point. I didn't want to do any more. But I also didn't want hubby to do it by himself. So we unloaded enough to get things set up so we could be comfortable and finished unloading early the next morning. Whew. Okay, enough talk about the move. Done.

Now I am not moving again. No way. Not ever.

How Well Do You Get Along

You know you are truly blessed when the two of you get through a move to a new house and the experience is a good one.

In the past, major changes were not so smooth for me. And then I married James. Life changed drastically. To have someone who works with me as a partner and how much we accomplish astounds me.

The day we drove to the new place to meet the owner for the second time I packed the car with small things to leave there. I filled every available space in the trunk and also the back seat. Boxes across the back seat and smaller items on the floor and finally all my jackets and coats across the top of the boxes.

After concluding our business with the landlord, hubby and I opened the trunk and back doors of the car and began carrying loads, some into the garage and some into the house.

In a few minutes we were done. Finished. I was amazed at how much got done so quickly. I realized that it was because I am married to a man who works well with me. He has the capacity to put forth effort to get a job done. While I hung our tennis racquets in the garage, hubby refilled a box and had the trunk emptied. He works quickly and efficiently.

Like I said, how well we get along during a major change to a new house says so much.

Graphic found on Google.

Adjusting To A New House

Hubby and I made it through the move. We didn't break anything and we weren't injured and we didn't fight (much). Wow. What an awesome move. Well, the friggin' washing machine died the week before the move but we replaced it.

We moved from a mid size town of about 50,000 people to a town of 1200 people. Well, I guess the population zoomed to 1202 now.

It will be fun to write some updates in this little hippie blog as we find our away around the 14 blocks in the new town and learn where things are. There is a bowling alley there with eight lanes. We ate lunch at the bowling alley, their daily special which was bacon/mushroom/swiss cheese hamburger on dark rye bread with tater tots and a homemade spice cupcake. It was too much food to eat. And it was excellent.

The reason we ate at the bowling alley was we watched the owner put out a sign at the sidewalk about the special as we pulled in to park at the post office across the street. Most people pick up their mail at the post office but we wanted to have it delivered so we bought a mail box and put it up on the opposite corner from where we live. That is where we were instructed to put a mail box. And the lady at the post office already had some mail for us that she was saving till we moved in.

Check your Readers, folks, I know you won't want to miss the exciting updates.

Halloween Adventures

This picture is courtesy of Ajey at The Odds Are Good, But The Goods Are Odd. Thank you, Ajey, for giving me permission to use your picture.

Happy Halloween everyone. Hubby and I moved to a new house October 30 so our Halloween is in a new house in a new town. We send out hugs and howls to everyone for a wonderful holiday.

Birthday Present

October 30 is my hubby's birthday. He tells me that the best present is our move to the little cottage house in the small town. We will be driving the U-Haul truck to the new place on his birthday.

So Happy Birthday, honey. You are the love of my life. We are heading for another adventure, making a home in a house new to us in a town new to us. You might have to wait a day for your birthday cake, but not the birthday kisses!

Botox

Botox should be made available in cream form and sold over the counter. Women could apply the cream liberally until their breasts are the perfect size they are wishing for.

"Here, hon, feel this one. Is it the same size as the other one yet?"


An article in cnn.com about Botox preventing migraines caused me to think of other ways Botox could be used.

Too bad we can't inject some Botox into our brains. But a larger brain doesn't mean more common sense.

I have seen some extended family members after Botox treatments. One I know has a puffy mouth way out of proportion and it has changed her personality from an outgoing flirty fun gal to somewhat withdrawn. Botox injections are not an exact science.

I think I will keep my lips and all my other parts just as they are.

Some Of The Benefits Of Growing Up

Do you like receiving nice short emails of love and encouragement?

A couple times a month I send emails to my grown kids. They wouldn't usually respond to them. Before I started working on my own recovery I would get hurt feelings that my kids were not taking the time to respond to my emails.

For the past couple years I have been actively working to become a "grown up" and keep my own side of the street clean. As it became more and more natural for me to actually pick up the garbage on my street and not just kick it off the sidewalk, things started changing in my relationship with my kids too.

My older daughter replies to my short emails once in awhile, and the nicest change is that occasionally she writes me a very long, informative, loving email. Then I reply to the things she tells me in the email and she and I email back and forth a few days and then we get busy with our lives until the next long email. It has been a blessing for me to experience the changes within me. I have learned not to react to things and not to live in fear and anger. I realize that I have absolutely no idea what is going on within another person or what their struggles are, so I don't judge or take things personally. I let go of my insecure feelings and remember that I am strong now. I have worked so hard to get to this place.

So many good things happen in life when I put myself in a healthy frame of mind and attitude. By not trying to control the outcome and letting go of the putzy things my heart is open to receive the good things. I welcome them. I am thankful for them.

Pilot Error

A pilot at low level has no control over his aircraft.
It narrowly misses a crowd gathered for the air show and slams into four buildings.
One can only imagine the horror of the occupants inside those buildings.


One of my friends sent this to me in an email.

Another New Experience

She passes through quickly
Not ready to view her image
Eyes almost closed

Brush teeth, rinse mouth
Looking downward
Wash face

Eyelids slowly raise
Lights five times 100 watts
Nothing in shadows now


Eyes are the mirrors
When viewed in the mirror
Stand strong, look

After 64 years in hiding
Really looking at myself
is a new experience


Graphic found on google.

Polishing My Toenails

Okay, time to give myself a pedicure.
Sounds easy, right?
Not so.

Removing the old polish takes time
and some flexibility.
Whew, the first part accomplished.

Now comes the hard part.
Can't see my toes well enough,
must wear reading glasses.

The first coat of clear is okay.
Let dry; apply one coat of color.
Today's color is pumpkin for the season.

Not too much polish on the skin.
That's a good thing.
Almost dry.

The second coat of color is crucial.
Want it to look like a professional pedicure.
Clean up the overspray with Q-tip.

A final coat of clear, my dear.
Twisted back and headache later.
So worth it.


Photo by TechnoBabe of her left foot.
The right foot was still in her mouth.

More Regarding My Younger Daughter

She was the youngest of her siblings. Junior high school was difficult for her. Groups of girls disliked her and began teasing and name calling, which she ignored. Then the girls broke into her school locker and destroyed the project that was due that day. The principal became involved and when he questioned the three girls they admitted breaking off the lock, destroying the project, and ripping up her school books. The principal asked them over and over if there was anything that my daughter did to provoke this, and each girl said, no, they just didn't like her.

When she was in ninth grade she began a different school, the local high school. A couple months into the ninth grade, someone from the school office called me at work to tell me that my daughter had been in an altercation at school and I needed to come to the school to get her. I was not told she was hurt. Work and the school were close so I was at the school in a few minutes. My daughter was sitting in a chair at the school office. Her clothes were torn and bloody. She had trouble talking. At that moment I was only interested in how hurt she was and I could pretty well tell her nose was broken so I took her to the hospital. Other than some cuts and lots of bruising, including bruised kidneys, the broken nose was the only thing that needed to be repaired. She spent a couple days in the hospital and more pain than she wanted to endure, but the nose was finally back to normal and after a couple weeks she looked like she always did.

The day after the "altercation" I called the principal of the high school. He told me that whenever students are in any type of altercation, all the students involved are sent home from school for three days, and her position of freshman class student body president was taken away from her, permanently. I asked him if he had investigated this "altercation" enough to know that my daughter was attacked and not in any way part of a fight like he was saying. He said there was no need to investigate, that the girls told him that my daughter had been calling one of the girls a racial slur, and they got into a fight. He said "You need to teach your daughter not to call people names so they won't get into fights with her." I told him he just said the wrong thing to the wrong parent, and I hung up. Anyone who knew me or my kids would know it could not be true that one of my kids would call someone a name much less a racial slur.

I called the local police and asked them to meet me at my house where my daughter was and take a statement. The police took our statement and then they visited the school. The principal of the school called me to tell me they would not allow the police on the school grounds and that the security office of the high school would handle their own investigation. He was very upset I had involved the police. Too bad.

So I spent the next couple days at the school. Doing my own investigating. I spent time in the girls locker room in the gym. And I sat down on the bench over the blood stains in the concrete and looked up at the blood spurts in the ceiling tiles. And I cried for what I was finding out about what happened. A very big girl who was in the twelfth grade called me at home to tell me she was so sorry. She had been told that my daughter had been harassing a ninth grade girl she knew and she was asked to help them get my daughter back. She walked up behind my daughter and grabbed her arms and held her so that two girls could beat on her. She told me that she had since learned that my daughter really did not even know those girls. And she was willing to go to the principal.

It is tough being a single mother, working and not available for every school activity that are almost always held while daytime working parents have to be at their jobs. I was missing some days of work and invoking the wrath of my boss in order to do what the high school would not do. In order to save face, the principal had ordered the teachers of the classes held when my daughter was hurt to write statements and in the statements they were told to lie. All this came out later. You see, when I visited the girls locker room in the gym, the teachers lounge room in the locker room was pointed out to me. The window shades were down. There were no openings. Maybe there were curtains on the inside too, because I walked all around that room trying to see inside and I couldn't. That meant the teachers could not see out into the open area that they were supposed to be supervising. It frightened me to think that some other girl could be hurt possibly worse than my daughter and the teachers wouldn't see it happening either. Several girls stated that the teachers go into that room each class and they don't supervise the area. That is why the girls planned their attack in that room right after gym class. In the sworn statements by the teachers, they were instructed to say the blinds were up and one teacher was in the room.

To make a long story short, after I contacted the school board and I also found a lawyer to contact the school board, the principal was transferred to a different school, the blinds in the teachers room were removed, my daughters blood stains were removed as much as possible. The "altercation" took place right in front of the closed windows of the teachers room.

By that time my daughter did not want to be reinstated as freshman class president; she liked the girl who had been given the job and didn't think it was fair to just take it back. The girl who started the whole thing had been in trouble in school most of her life and was actually on probation. The principal kept that information from me but I could understand the right to privacy of other students and would not have expected him to tell me. I actually felt sorry for that little girl. She had a worse family situation than my daughter did and she didn't have anyone sticking up for her. I have to be honest, at first as the true story emerged, I despised that girl. I saw her once at a school football game because someone pointed her out to me. She walked down the bleacher steps and sat right behind my daughter. My son was varsity quarterback and we attended every home game and my daughter would sit with her friends in the front row of the bleachers. I overreacted. I practically climbed over the people in my row to get to the stairs and I ran down to get my daughter.

What did happen to my daughter was her dislike for school. She quit school within a year. She moved to her father and stepmother's place in a different state. She became a problem there and they told her to leave. She moved in with a woman and her daughter who none of us knew. It was a scary time for me as her mom but she was in contact with me by phone often. After a couple years living away from me my daughter moved back and got her GED and plenty of jobs. She is an interesting person and I know I will write more posts about her. There are many things I admire about her.

The Walls Are Empty

Two car garage full
Work table, car,
yard sale items
Triple stacked
Couch, dresser,lamps
Bentwood rocker too
Only the bare essentials
will be taken in the truck
Books have been divided
Some for yard sale,
some in boxes to take
At the end of the month
we begin a new adventure
Pack the truck on a Friday
Clean house one last time
and drive away on Saturday
October 30 we are moving
to a small house in a small town
We are getting ready
The walls are empty
Our hearts are full

This is the new house.
Soon to be home.

Learning To Soar

Pick. Pick. Crack.
Push. Crack.
Reach. Push.
Aaah. Bright. Light.

Cooing. Chirping.
Warmth. Feathers.
Mom. Siblings.
Snuggle.

Dad. Food.
Beg. Food.
Learn. Food.
More. Food.

High. Up.
Lets. Go.
Instinct.
Wings. Flap.

Hit. Ground.
Hard. Landing.
Must. Learn.
Mom. Here.

Find. Food.
Want. Mom.
Flutter. Wings.
Mom. Feed.

Siblings. Strong.
Feed. Themselves.
Fly. Freely.
Harder. Upward.

Mom. Away.
Detached. Scared.
Find. Food.
Fly. Alone.

Self. Reliant.
Attitude. Adjusted.
Feel. Free.
Grown. Up.

Catch. Wind.
Extend. Wings.
Bank. Turn.
Increase. Speed.

Easy. Take-off.
Glide. Pace.
Giddy. Happy.
Spirits. Soar.

A Few Of Life's Lessons

I've learned...
That life is like a
roll of toilet paper.
The closer it gets
To the end, the
faster it goes.


I've learned...
That we should be
glad God doesn't
give us everything
we ask for.


I've learned...
That money doesn't
buy common sense.


I've learned...
it's those small daily happenings
that make life so
spectacular.



I've learned...
That under everyone's
hard shell is someone
who wants to be
appreciated
and loved.



I've learned...
That to ignore the
facts does not
change the facts.



I've learned...
That the less time
I have to work,
the more things
I get done.


My sister-in-law sent this to me in an email. I shortened the original list and changed a couple words. Remember, getting old is when everything dries up or leaks.
So it helps to learn as much as we can along the way.

Where Is It?

Where is it

Have you seen it

When did you have it last

Did you look in the drawer

I'll help you look for it

Can you use something else

Only if we can't find it

Why do you need it right now

Can this wait until tomorrow

No, I'm in the middle of something

This is a typical day in the little hippie house. We take turns losing things and then we both spend time looking for them. Good thing we don't have anything else to do. Ha.

First Grade Memories

When my youngest child started first grade, she chose to walk to school with the group of kids in our area. It was only two blocks to school. None of the other parents were walking with their children, so after the first couple days I acquiesced and stopped walking with her.

After a couple weeks of this arrangement, I noticed bruises on my daughter's back and butt when I would check on her getting in and out of her nightly bath. The bruising was so horrendous and I would ask how she was getting bruised. It was odd that the bruises were on her backside and not on arms or legs like she would get if she was being too daring on the monkey bars which was her favorite activity. She was always a climber. She was small for her age and she would climb trees and other adults would get so nervous and ask her to come down. She was competitive and would do tricks on the monkey bars and encourage other kids to do them too.

My daughter was the smallest child walking in the group to and from school. Apparently, boys in the fifth and sixth grades would try to intimidate the younger children. And because they were not able to instill fear in my daughter, they would kick her on her back and butt. Thus,the bruises.

The hours I worked at the time were 11 PM to 7 AM. So when I left work I would go home and get my daughter ready and walk her to school. I did speak to the principal about the boys hurting her but I didn't hear anything about a follow up or any action. I would help in the cafeteria occasionally and continued walking her to school the rest of the school year. This kind of negative response would follow her throughout her school years. It was as if she had "kick me hormones" that drew bullies to her.

I have more posts to come about my daughter and her troubles in school.

Riding In My Little MG

Living in a part of southern California with multiple freeways, I would think of the Jetsons as I drove around in my little red MG. It was necessary for a driver to be prepared and in the correct lanes in order to travel around the busy highways.

One day I was driving home after a disappointing job interview, keeping my mind on the business of driving, and scooting bad thoughts of the interview out of the little car every time they tried to get my attention.

A few blocks from home, I down shifted and prepared for the freeway exit. The engine revved instead of the nice hum of shifting down into third gear. The rubber mat was stuck under the pedal. I was going too fast to make the swerve to the right and in an instant I had to make a decision. Ram into the cars who were to the right waiting at the stop sign or turn left and go over the cliff.

I chose left.

The car rolled around and around as it went down the embankment, dirt flying onto the windshield, my knee hitting the steering column, and the whole experience was like flying. It was silence in the car. I was alone except for the angel helping me land safely. The little red MG landed on the right side of the busy freeway and the car was heading in the right direction.

It took a couple minutes for me to realize that it was over. I took stock of the situation, felt my leg and arms and decided I wasn't even hurt, so I disengaged the seat belt and opened the door which was difficult because so much dirt was packed against the door. I crawled out and looked around. The car had taken down a few signs along the freeway. As I looked up there were about twenty people looking over the rim down at me and I wanted to laugh at their expressions. Their eyes were huge and their mouths were wide open. They were astonished at how safely I landed and I appeared to be all right. Some of those people climbed down and helped me up the hill by making a human ladder and then someone with a cell phone asked me what number I wanted them to call for someone to come get me.

That MG was a strong and safe little car. The tires automatically deflated and the car remained upright instead of going into a roll. The top was on the car that day which meant I was in a steel encased area except for the windows are quite small. The safety features on the MG kicked in and the angel held my hand and I had a ride of my life.

The Record Player

The parents were divorced for about a year when I received a Christmas present from my father. He had not sent a present for a holiday or birthday so this was a new experience.

My gift was a small record player. A little box with a handle and a fastener to open the box. The lid lifted up and the record player was inside. It would play 33s and after setting the attachment on the spindle it would play 45s.

There weren't any records with the record player but I had some babysitting money saved so I walked to the store for my first big purchase. I bought 45s. Hound Dog. See You Later, Alligator. Rock Around The Clock. Peggy Sue. Wake Up Little Susie. Bonie Moronie. I get goose bumps just thinking of the fun songs back then.

My record playing days and dancing in my room were short lived. A few months after Christmas a bill collector removed my record player and my records from the house while I was at school. Evidently my father never made one payment. Even back then I had to laugh at how typical that was for my father. A grand gesture that lasted a short time. I think he meant well but he was not working and he moved around from state to state and sometimes in Mexico in his alcoholic, destitute life. Of course I was disappointed that my record player was not really mine after all. But I still had my radio.

A Hug And Kiss Can Be Sensual

A gentle kiss
Soft warm breath
Lips curving, a smile

Hands slowly moving
Almost a tickle of delight
Goose bumps of pleasure

Eyes burning with longing
Sighing with patience
Caressing visually

Luxuriating in gladness
Enfolding me in love
Audible intensification

Stormy Weather

A truly fine photograph on The Smitten Image caused my brain to relate my life experiences to things of nature. The photo Hilary posted of a summer storm looks like she took the picture in black and white. As she explains in the post "This photo wasn't taken in black and white but the weather seemed to turn everything into monochrome."

I like black and white photos, but in real life, I enjoy colors all around me. I even dream in color, TechnoBabe's technicolor dreams!

When I get in a funk, or not in sync, my perspective is damaged. Things start looking dull, bleak, cloudy, and stormy. A really horrifying inner storm tends to exhaust me. My energy is sapped. As I peer out from under my pouty eyes the colors are gone. At least the happy, sunny vibrant colors are gone. What I see with my eyes while feeling depressed is not true colors because my vision is polluted by the poison within.

Thank goodness this doesn't happen often or last very long anymore. Understanding the things over a lifetime that have caused me to make bad choices has helped me become stronger and happier. There will occasionally be choppy water and storm clouds in life, but it isn't given the power anymore to contaminate my life.


The picture in this post was found on google; be sure to see the gorgeous photo of the stormy weather at the lake on Hilary's blog.

Traveling To Dreamland

After an intensely busy day
With much accomplished
It's time to relax

Letting go of tasks undone
Blotting out the nagging chores
Big sigh, Relax

Nothing else to work on today
Feeling pleasure in achievement
Satisfaction in my bones


No longer on the clock
Unfinished tasks are unimportant
Tomorrow is another day

Winding down, muscles relaxed
Enjoying life in the moment
Celebrating the song within

A light breeze tickles my neck
The open window provides ventilation
Evening shadows transmit a quiet melody

Slowly my breathing becomes regular
Little snorts of peace
Grace my lips and affirm sleep.

Photo courtesy of deviantart

Blogger Organizations Based On Age

Have you seen the various blogger groups based on age? I saw one the other day called Studio 30 Plus. That's a cool name I think. And I have seen other "clubs" or groups for older people. Forty And Over.

I have been thinking of starting a blogger club for my age group. It has been fun trying to find the right name for the group.


Sixty And Still Sexy
Sixty Percent Perfect
Flower Children Turn Sixty
Six Decades Dense
Over Sixty But Not Over The Hill

By the time I find the best name the club in the fifties now will be joining the sixties club!

Just Another Family Story

What happens in families
Screwed together in rage
They give in to the devil

Little boy's cries heard daily
A belt buckle leaving welts
His head hangs before the devil

Little girl is younger and weaker
Little boy is full of rage
His sinister smile is of the devil

Little boy ties her hands firmly
To the clothesline posts out back
He drinks in revenge of the devil

Little girl now has welts and bruises
The whipping post has accomplished it
No longer will she give in to the devil

The everyday bruises turn different colors
The everyday pain constantly hidden
The name of the devil is shame


Note: The shame is what the children live with in the family, not shame on their part.

Patriot Day

The Older We Get.....

A group of forty year old girlfriends discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed that they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the waiters there were good looking and had buff bodies.

Ten years later the then fifty year old gals once again discussed where they should meet for dinner. It was agreed that they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the food and wine selection there was so good.

Ten years later at sixty years of age the group once again decided to meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because it wasn't noisy and the restaurant had a beautiful view of the ocean.

Ten years later at seventy years old the group once again discussed where they should meet. It was agreed they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because the restaurant was wheel chair accessible and there was also an elevator.

Ten years later the eighty year old women discussed where to meet for dinner and they decided they would meet at the Ocean View Restaurant because they had never been there.


This was sent to me by a friend. One I wish I could meet for dinner every ten years at the Ocean View Restaurant!

Sitting On The Back Porch

Sitting on the back step
Facing the alley
Quiet and almost happy

She was twelve years old
Her friend in the same class
Friends since first grade

The sun filtered in trees
Sounds off in the distance
Too young for heavy discussions

He reached over and kissed her cheek
Not touching any other body part
No arms around or clinging

No one had kissed her at all yet
Still it didn't sink in or upset her
It just was something in the moment

Suddenly her mother screamed
Pushed the back door into their backs
Calling her names and shrieking

She honestly did not know what it meant
What was a whore, was it a tramp
Why didn't she feel dirty like she should

The mother told the boy to go home
And never come back
Another friend lost

Labor Day

The first Labor Day in the United States was observed in 1882 to celebrate various labor associations' strengths and contributions to the United States economy. I was born a few years after that, but Labor Day was a day for celebrating whether you were wealthy or living in poverty. Labor Day is a state holiday in all fifty states in the US. Our neighbors to the north in Canada also celebrate Labor Day on the same day.

According to the website of the US Dept of Labor, "Labor Day, the first Monday in September, is a creation of the labor movement and is dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers. It constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country."

There are still some things to be grateful for in this country. I worked many years and now am privileged to be retired. Instead of pointing out things I disagree with or feel sad about, I prefer to dwell on positive issues this Labor Day.

My wish is that people who work for someone else or are self employed enjoy this holiday. Enjoy the fruits of your labor, even if it is one day off work. Things are changing and some day there may no longer be a national holiday for the work force.


Photo courtesy of 123greetings.com.

TechnoBabe's Adventures Celebrates Four Years

I have been writing this blog since September 4, 2006.

In the end of 2008 I didn't write any posts but for the rest of the time I posted something on the average of every other day.

This has been a truly wonderful experience for me. Like playing in a big online playground.

When I began writing this blog I felt like I was not a very good writer and I was intimidated by the blogs I found that were well written. I have been especially drawn to blogs that challenge my thinking and encourage readers to try something new, be it photography or poetry or cooking or crafts.

It astounds me the amount of talent that is shared in the blogs I have been blessed to read. I have witnessed many blogs shut down and some that are on hiatus but return to blogging at a later date. My own hubby has started several blogs and shut them down. It is actually encouraging to know that blogging is not set in concrete. There are no rules or organizations to join or fees to pay. It is free and can be what each blogger wants it to be.

When it comes down to what is important me to over the past four years it isn't the number of followers or comments left on a post that rings my bell, it is the acceptance of the people who choose to read my blog. Accepting this little hippie blog. Warts and all.

Thank you from the bottom of my pea pickin' heart. Today is indeed a day to celebrate.
Please share the celebration with me. Share a smile with someone today.

Together

Every day is special
We make it that way
Together

The joy of seeing you smile
Our morning hugs and coffee
Together

Playing games at the table
Sharing cooking duties
Together

Knowing we can count on each other
Committed till death do us part
Together

Our five year anniversary
One precious day at a time
Together

Reach Out

Stretch yourself to the limit.

Reach out every chance you have.

Take that moment to make eye contact and reach out.

Make the connection.

Give of yourself unselfishly.

Think of others.

The minuscule seed will grow if you nurture it.

Let go of petty differences.

They don't matter.

They don't shake the earth.

They put up barriers instead of open doors and open hearts.

We all hurt sometimes.

We all bleed sometimes.

We all have needs.

We all matter.

So reach out.

And mean it.

Graphic courtesy of deviantart.

Ensenada, Mexico

When she was ten years old, her parents were divorced. Her father wasn't living with them very much the past couple years and when he was home, he was drinking with his buddies. Two or three of his friends would drop by when they felt like it and ignore the fact that there was a wife and two kids living there. The men would pour beer down the cat's throat and set its tail on fire. The jeering wasted little boys were impersonating grown men.

Right after the divorce she was informed that her father had remarried. But in a year he had divorced his second wife and married a young nightclub dancer who lived in Ensenada, Mexico.

It wasn't until she graduated from high school and was married herself that she and her husband moved back to southern California. They spent weekends driving to Ensenada to see her father. The young couple would sleep on her father's fishing boat while he stayed with his wife and their little girl in an apartment in town.

Her father had many friends in Ensenada. The wives took her under their wing and taught her to cook good Mexican dishes. They spoke only Spanish so she dusted off her two years of high school Spanish and made friends with them, accepting their tutelage in cooking and their good natured advice on keeping her new husband.

Most weekend nights she and her husband spent walking behind her father as he roamed from bar to bar, sometimes stopping in to watch the exotic dancing his wife performed.

When she became pregnant, she and her husband stopped going to Ensenada on weekends and began preparing for their first child. Not long after their child was born her father divorced his second wife, remarried his second wife and they moved to Chapala, Mexico. It was many years later that she saw her father again on the occasion of her first child's high school graduation. By that time her father's daily drinking and three pack a day cigarette smoking habit had taken its toll. He could not be without his oxygen tank. The emphysema had progressed to where he fought for each breath but he continued to smoke three packs of unfiltered Camels every day. He flew to be in town for the graduation of her daughter and also her nephew but her father was unable to attend the ceremonies. He lasted two more years. He was found sitting at his kitchen table with his face in his food. He was 64 years old.

Photo is of my father next to his fishing boat. He was 45 years old in the picture. I wonder if my brother has this picture. I doubt it. It surprises me how much my brother looks like our father. My brother is older now that our father was when he died.

Hey, Buddy, Got The Time?

For almost a year I have not worn a watch. I have not used the alarm clock. When I was still working, I would set the alarm clock but I would usually wake up before the alarm was due to startle me awake.

Unless I have an appointment there is no need to know what time it is. I don't watch television so I am not waiting for a special show. I eat when I am hungry as opposed to a certain meal time.

Just that one change in my life has brought such peace. Eliminating the need to know what time it is has given me all the time in the world.