Thoughts

Haven't shared any thoughts here lately.  Maybe cause I haven't had many?  Nah, I've had plenty of thoughts.  Some good, some not so good, and some that made a fleeting, and I do mean fleeting stop.  Not even long enough for me to grab hold of and wrest the meaning of them out.  

I've thought a lot about my sister who passed away a few years ago, I miss her so much, but not as much as her kids do.   Both of whom are married and have children, well one of them has one child and the other couple will welcome their second child in the fall.   My sister would have been over the moon with joy over all of them.  And I can just see her ping ponging her way between both households being Mormor or Farmor or maybe just Grandma or some other version to the kids.  I would have had phone calls from her telling me of the latest triumph one of her grand daughters had done, she would have shared every new tooth, every bump and every triumph.   If she was still here. 

I've been thinking about my parents too, my dad who called us up and told us that he was glad he'd lived long enough to see Mt. St. Helens erupt, but was so saddened by the loss of life and habitat, but still, it was a natural wonder.   And while it was bad, he was awed that he was able to witness even a small part of it.   He shared how they had ash falling on them, and they were so far away, all the way up on Vancouver Island.    

And I think about my Mom as I go outside and tend my plants in pots.  Mom and Dad both had awesome green thumbs.   I swear they could plant rocks and have Dahlia's come up.   I was just outside counting the lemons on my Myers Lemon tree.   I have it in a pot, but this year, thanks to my brothers advice to make sure I feed the pot weekly I may get more than 3 or 4 lemons.     Can anyone say Lemon Meringue pie or Citronfromage or Lemon and Ginger cookies or, never mind, I'm getting hungry for lemon anything.

I've been admiring my parsley plant, poor thing gets eaten every year by the Swallowtail butterfly larvae.  And then it comes back again.  I think I'm going to have to go and plant some more parsley just for those little guys.  And hope they leave me enough to cook with from time to time.

So there I go again, just thinking of stuff.      

What idiot designs public restrooms ?

Sorry I had to yell there, but honestly I have to say this.   
What kind of idiot designs the stalls in public restrooms?  
 I'm not talking cleanliness here, although I have a couple of ideas on that one, but just the basic sense of design.   And if I offend you by talking about toilets, don't bother reading any further.

Let me give two examples.   And see if you can follow along with me on this.

I walk into a nice large restroom, lots of aisle space, and then go into the stall and cannot close the door without brushing against, no, almost having to climb on top of the toilet to close the door behind me.   All I needed was an extra inch or two, and it would have been fine.  And there was more than enough aisle space to get that extra two inches.   Of course that might have explained the footprints on top of the toilet seat.   I am not exaggerating, well, not that much, but really?   Who wants to get up close and personal with a toilet, unless it's in your own home and you're the only one who uses it and cleans it every day.  

Example number two.   I'm in a large chain store, run into the restroom, it's actually pretty clean in there, and there is room to close the door without climbing onto top of the toilet, but...  The toilet roll holder protrudes so far into the space you have to perch on the side of the toilet cause there's no room, and you have to reach back to get to the toilet paper.   So here you are, you've managed to hit the toilet, then you have to contort yourself to get to the paper and well, I'm just not built that way anymore.  

And the cleanliness thing?  Well, what's wrong with a poured concrete or other floor that can be hosed down?  Just shut the restroom down every few hours and hose off the floor.  Have  a drain that can handle it and voila!  Clean floors.   Of course it doesn't take care of the other idiots who can foul up a public restroom in seconds flat and who don't even care.  

My complaint today is the space inside the stalls, and I wonder if anyone else feels the same way.   I do care, but for now this is my space and I can complain if I want to.

Young music, old bodies

We were at a local watering hole a week or so ago, and there was a musician, well, two musicians on stage, playing the music of my youth.  And as I walked into the venue, I looked at the audience and saw the graying hair of the people rocking along with the music, and thought, gee that's so cool even the older people are really enjoying this music.  For a moment, well, almost three and a half moments, I was a young person again, then I realized that, hey, I'm one of them. I've got the grey hair, (it may be hiding amongst the golden strands, but it's there).   

I'm looking at the stage seeing the gray hair of the singer, tied back into a ponytail and listening to the music of my youth, time has marched on,  the music has stayed young but the bodies show the years that have passed.   Grey hair, or just thinning hair, grey beards, we're all showing signs of age, but the music, it has stayed young.   

Time was, the audience would have been young, and the singers younger still, but at least we've all aged together, some more gracefully, some not so much.     

Life has happened to many of us, most of us have embraced life, ridden the waves of fortune and despair, and come out of on top.    We've weathered storms, broken marriages, deaths of parents, children, spouses, pets, and we're still here.  We've won and lost, and we're still here.   We've worked, squandered, played, despaired, and we're still here.   

And for a moment or three, as we listen to the music of our youth, we can go back in time, when our skin was still smooth, our bodies young, our ambition fresh and new, and we're still here.  

Memories...

 I've been unpacking boxes the past couple of days, boxes that contained glassware, collectibles, well, my idea of collectibles at least.   I finally have a shelving unit that I can use to display and have access to the glasses,etc., that I have had packed away.

One of the boxes I unpacked though, contained bits and pieces of our former life.    An address book my mother had was in a box which was labeled pictures, etc.   I had no idea what it was when I picked it up, it was wrapped in plastic, and I had no idea what I was unwrapping, until the final bit.   It was Mom's old address book.  The covers have come undone, the pages are falling out, but I'm keeping it anyway.   As I page through, I see names of people I've almost forgotten, see the various addresses my older sister had as she and her husband lived in various cities across the country where he was sent when he was in the military.    Some of the entries are made in my hand, some in my mother's hand and some in my dad's handwriting.   There are also a few my sister made.   Both my parents and sister have now passed away so seeing their handwriting brings a tear to my eye, and seeing the entries of other friends of my parents who have since passed brings back so many memories.   Mom sitting with her best friend Mae, over coffee in the evening, while both Mae's husband and my father worked on second shift as janitors. The name of my old doctor, a wise and learned man, who had a great deal of compassion, and knew how to listen to a teenager.    Then I turn the page and see names I don't remember or recognize and realize that after I left home, Mom and Dad had a life I wasn't privy to on a day to day basis.    So many, many memories all contained within the falling out pages of an old address book, and a book I will keep forever, or at least until I die.

And then I open another box, one that has been packed away for over 12 years.  Yes, 12 years!  About the time we were first going to put our old house up for sale and I packed up the contents of a china cabinet in preparation, mainly cause I didn't want my special stuff to be on display if some one came in to look at the house.   And now as I go through the box, I'm assailed, overwhelmed, and joyful with the memories.   I find a beautiful crystal bowl, teacups that belonged to my husband's grandmother, decorative plates that my mother had, and a few things I'm really shocked I kept.  And I wonder why they were so special back then that I felt the need to keep them.  Some maybe because they were gifts and I was brought up to cherish gifts that were given, but I think some of the items I kept were simply because I was overwhelmed at all the decisions I had to make when I was packing.

Some boxes were packed away in 2005, and as I open the boxes I find stuff I had forgotten we had.   I now know where the top to the blender is, but because I bought one to replace the missing top, I am now the proud owner of two blenders and don't really use either one anymore.   But, because one was a wedding present, I will keep it until it dies, or gift it to someone who can use it.    I find a bowl, that belonged to my husband's grandmother, I think, but Corningware never goes out of style.  Well, maybe it might go out of style, but it will always be useful.   And who can't use more bowls?  I know when I get going in the kitchen, an extra bowl is always a good thing.   And then it hits me, so many of the Corningware items are now classified as antiques, I know this because I've had them over 30 years, and some were handed down from family. 



  So many treasures, and so little room to put them in. 

The black hole under the sink...

I was just in the bathroom trying to retrieve the dogs brush when I realized that as careful as I was to only put essentials under there, it was starting to resemble a black hole.  Things went in there, never to surface again.   So I rooted around and found stuff that really didn't need to be there.  But I really wonder, why aren't there some kind of organizers built in there?   I recognize you need to be able to access the plumbing, but gee whillikers, I can't be the only who kinda puts stuff in there and never retrieves it.  It's like there is something that lives under there, and takes your stuff and never gives it back, or at least doesn't give it back until you beg, plead and crawl in there after it.   And I don't know about you, but I really don't like crawling into little black holes or spaces under sinks or closets or ....

Hate trying to buy a car

OK, so this is my personal rant and rave page.  And I want to rant and rave about the process of buying a car.   Grrrrrr..........

Why do dealers make it so difficult to get a price.   Don't they know what they paid for the car, how much of a profit they need to make to keep the doors open?    But I keep hearing stuff like, well there are a lot of variables we need to consider.   All I want is to get a price, even if it's not the final price, just a price so I know whether or not it's worth my time to drive 75 miles or more to sit in a dealership while they play the 'waiting' game to see if I'm really serious.   I mean really, how difficult is it?   

Why am I ranting today, well, gee, let me see.   My car is 12 years old, has over 142,000 miles on it, and is getting tired.   I still love the car, but can see the reality that maybe it might start costing me money just to keep it on the road.   And I really don't want to get stranded in one of the forests in our area cause it suddenly decides that it has given its all for me.    

Sorry I got sidetracked there.    Let me get back on the road, as it were.    I called a few dealerships yesterday, told them I was looking for a specific vehicle, and wanted to know what kinds of specials they were offering on it.   I thought that was a fair question.    I did mention to one dealer the 'online' special that was being offered by the manufacturer.   Told them I understood that there were other factors involved, but wanted to get an idea of what they would charge.  So far, we've talked 4 times, and I still don't have a price.   I get the ' What do you want to pay?"  " Are you going to put money down?"  which I had already said I would.   Are they not listening because I'm a woman?  Or is this just a big game to them?   They have the vehicle, they hold the cards and I'm the supplicant who's asking pretty please may I have a price.   Just too frustrating for words.   Now, I'm going to go with some more dealers and see if any of them return calls.  

I'll update this later on, but for now, picture this.   I'm standing on my best cookpot and beating the sales people over the head with whisk or should that be a meat tenderizer, hmmmm......  

Kinda sad today...

Actually I was kinda sad the past few days.    I resigned/quit/gave up my volunteer cooking gig at the senior center here, and last week was my last lunch there.    And I'm going to miss it.  Really, but at the same time I'm relieved.   So I guess I'm torn up between being sad and relieved. 

No more menu planning, no more shopping, no more cooking, and that is something I really enjoyed doing.   I loved the camaraderie of the volunteers, we had some good times, a lot of laughs, a couple of tears, some oops in the kitchen, and I'm thinking of the scorched sauces mostly, but nothing that was catastrophic in nature.   Our meals were served on time, mostly.   We did get a couple of delays, but really, we did good.  

The other volunteers were awesome as well.   I want to give a shout out to Don, who came in pretty much every week, and helped us out.   He's 87 I believe, and has a bad back, but shows up with laughter in his heart.   And then there is Wally, who also showed up most weeks, and also has a bad back, but did his part in the prep work.   Ginnie, who showed a real aptitude for doing whatever we asked of her.   Miss Dot, who made some awesome deviled eggs, several dozen a week, and brought them.  Miss Merle, who is legendary around here for her baking prowess.   Miss Reba who came and helped out a few times.   And Sarge, who taught me so much before he had to leave.   And we had our share of snowbird volunteers, Janey,  who fell to with a will, Miss Pat, who came in early and stayed late.   All the great people who stepped up to serve the food to the seniors, and finally, my fellow cook, Robin.   She also taught me an incredible amount.  We had more laughs, and she was one of the main reasons I looked forward to going in every week.  

Thank you to all of you, and I appreciate your kindness in letting me come in and cook alongside you all.