Zzzzzzzz, A Goodnight to All

Zzzzz, Zzzzzz, Zzzzz.   Oh, excuse me, I was sleeping,  I can tell I was sleeping, there is slobber on my pillow.
The alphabet has taken it's toll on me and I am ready to give up the letters.
So, goodnight to all.  See you all sometime next month.

Yes Siree Bob

Yes siree bob, this has been a fun ride, but I am ready to make my way towards the exit.  I am glad that this A to Z Challenge is about over.  Not that I haven't had fun doing it, it really was a lot of fun, and I got to "meet" a lot of really neat people.  So, thank you for that.
But...it is exactly what it says it is, it's a challenge.  I like challenges, something that stretches me a little bit.
Yes siree bob, it has been fun and it has made me think.  Sometimes I think my brain atrophies a little from lack of use and needs a little exercise, this was a good way to get it.

Xilorator

I don't care what anyone says those air machines in restrooms are not a good substitute for paper towels.  I mean,  I know why they put those things in as opposed to paper towels.  I know they are cheaper.  But I still don't like them.
We went out to dinner last night and before leaving I had to visit the restroom.  And lo and behold, no paper towels.  They did have the  "Xilorator" machine.  It blew cool air and did not do a very good job at drying my hands.  So I had to do what I have to do every time I encounter one of those new finagled machines, finished drying my hands on my pants.
My mom and Dad were on a trip from Oklahoma to California once on their way to see all of us kids and grandkids.  They stopped in New Mexico somewhere for gas and to use the restroom.  My mom exited the ladies bathroom and informed the attendant that they were in need of toilet paper.  He, in all seriousness, told her, "well, there's a blow dryer on the wall".   Since that time I have not been able to get the image out of my mind.  How the heck do you get your backside up that high to dry it?
And the word Xilorator........it sounds like they have really high hopes for your visit to their gas station.

Wait a Minute!

Wait a minute, holy cow, no way, did I just say what I think I said?
My foot goes in my mouth more than that ice cream sandwich does.  I don't mean to say some of the things I do but somehow they just pop right out of my mouth.  Then I'm left saying, wait a minute, did I really just say that? Yup, I really did, let's just hope no one was listening....again.

V Is For Vision

Vision, I love people with vision.  You know Thomas Edison, Abraham Lincoln, Albert Einstein, Rembrandt, and Victor Hugo,  I love the guy (or gal) who saw a cocoa bean and thought, "wow, what I could do with that".  I love the Dyson man and his vacuum.  And how cool is the person who put scents in candles?  Don't you love the person who said, "hey, let's put all of our books into one building and let people come and borrow them"?  Let's not forget the wheel and the innovative caveman who had the vision to make some big round boulders do all the work for him.  Okay, I'm really liking the guy who invented the blender.  We wouldn't have smoothies or, better yet, ice cream shakes without him.  Oh, oh, and the crockpot, just put that chicken in before church and when you get home, voila, you have dinner.
There are so many visionaries that we have to thank for what we have today.  We are all visionaries in some way, we all have ideas and some of them are even good.  So, I say embrace your inner visionary and don't let anyone discourage you when you think you have a good idea.  Just go for it!

Under.......anything

"Where is the cat", I yell (the cat that is NOT supposed to be in the house because of the lively presents she brings inside with her)

Under the bed,
under the couch,
under the pile of laundry,
under the kitchen table,
under the blanket,
under the chair,
under the coffee table,
under the pillows,
under the dresser,
under anything....and behind the dryer.

Toiling Over Toilets

Well, I got up a little early this morning not quite sure what my T was going to be.
I got up early because I've been busy and have been neglecting the housework a little bit.  So I thought I would get an early start and get those nasty toilets sparkling.
I HATE cleaning toilets, I'm sure there aren't too many people who love it.  And I admit to feeling a little resentful that cleaning the toilets is my job.  Without going into detail, it really should be my husbands job.
After I clean the toilets and the bathrooms I want to ban my husband from using them, at least for a couple of days.  But, unfortunately, we don't have a gas station nearby.
So, I get through this distasteful task by repeating my mantra, "at least they aren't outhouses at the ball field".

Shhhhh

Shhh,, the baby is sleeping.
Shhh,  I have a headache.
Shhh,  she'll find us!
Shhh,  no talking during the test.
Shhh,  I can't hear the television.
Shhh,  I'm trying to concentrate.
Shhh,  don't you ever stop talking?
Shhh,  this is a library.
Shhh,  did you forget you're in church?

So,  shhh now, because I'm going to go take that rest now that I didn't get to take on Saturday.

Rest, I Need Rest

Rest, rest, my body needs rest.
I really do think that would be for the best.
I'll climb into bed
And lay down my head
Then think of good thoughts
Like the new shoes that I boughts (yes, I know.....)
So goodnight one and all, I give you my best,
But now I'm think I'll go off to rest.

Yup, that's is, that's I got,  I think I'd really better go rest my brain.

Quit It!

Ahhh, the sweet memories of family vacations with four small children crammed into the backseat of an old VW van (a VW van that might have broken down at any moment, and did...often).
"Quit it, Mom she's looking at me".......Quit it, Mom, she's touching me......Mom, make him quit spitting........Dad, can't you make Mom make him quit it?"
Despite all the squabbling in the backseat, if you ask my children about their vacations as little children today, they would tell you that those were the best memories of their childhood.  And I have to agree.

Pigtales, Ponytail, and Rubberbands

When I was young and growing up with three sisters my mom worked regular daytime hours and there were times when my dad worked nights.  In the summertime my dad was home to care for us.
This means that he saw that we brushed out teeth and tried to keep us from killing each other.  The one thing he did that "haunts" me to this day....he brushed our hair.
He didn't just brush our hair, he put it in ponytails.  And, let me tell you, he was quite the ponytail aficionado.  He would pull our hair back so tight and put that nasty rubber band in and by the time we were done each one of us looked like we had been born into the wrong family.  If you had plopped us down in China we would have looked like we belonged.  He didn't do this to be mean, he was trying to make sure we looked good.  His idea of good and ours were much different.
It sure was hard to smile when it felt like you had just gone through facial plastic surgery.  But the memory makes me smile now, and maybe that's why I have always kept my hair short, as an adult.

Ollie, Ollie Oxen Free

I love, yes I still love the sound of that cry, Ollie, Ollie Oxen Free.  Hide and Seek, my favorite game when I was a young girl and my favorite game, still, to play with my grandchildren. 
I love the thrill of finding the perfect place to hide and then trying as hard as you can to not make a sound.  The thrill of having the "finder" walk right by your hiding place and wanting to giggle in delight, can't be beat.
The call of Ollie, Ollie Oxen Free and knowing that you are the last person still hiding. Okay, so I'm playing  hide and seek against 6 year olds, doesn't matter, the feeling is the same.
My only issue is playing with my 4 year old granddaughter who just doesn't quite get the concept of the game.   She gets so excited that just after the game starts she is hollering for the finder to find her. 
Me....I will stay in hiding until the last grandchild has had to go home and take a nap.
I know this all sounds childish, but I can't seen to help it.  I love hide and seek.
Hide and seek....best game ever invented.  Enough said!

Normalish, The Land Between

Normalish is the land between normal and nuts.  That's where I live. I'm not quite normal (but, then who is?) and I'm not quite nuts. 

I'm not really sure what normal is, other than it sounds a little boring.  No one I know is completely normal, but they aren't nuts either.  At least most of them aren't nuts.  I like being normalish.  I think it says a lot about a person.

Normalish people don't want to rock the boat....too much.  But they also don't want to be lumped in with everyone else in the world.  They want to make their mark in their own way.

I have a feeling that if you are reading this or if you are writing your own blog, you are normalish.  And I salute you for it!   Be proud and happy in your normalishness.

Multitasking, It's an Art

Multitasking is the ability to do more than one task at a time.
I'm a very good multitasker.  Okay, well, I used to be a very good multitasker anyway.  I felt like supermom.  I could be painting the bedroom walls at the same time I was washing the windows (I don't think I actually ever did that, but I could if I wanted to).  Each task I was doing would get my equal attention.
However....as I have gotten older my multitasking talent has diminished.  It started this way....
I would start on one task then leave it, temporarily, to begin another.  After I got the second task started I would go back to the first one.  Only, wait a minute, what was it I was doing?  Oh crap, I forgot.
Things went downhill from then on.  Now my idea of multitasking is to get up and take care of my tasks during the commercial breaks.  Works for me!

Teeny Little Side Story

As you have read (I hope you have, anyway) I love a road trip.  Part of the fun of a road trip is stopping at those gas stations like Love's or Pilot to get gas or  snack or just to look around.  While we were out we stopped at Love's for gas and went inside.

Now, we haven't been able to make any trips lately due to my husbands knee replacement surgery. So I had an idea...we could just go to Love's outside of our town and get gas, go inside and get a snack and look around.  It will seen like we are on a trip.  I figure we can do that once a week until we can so for real.

Doesn't take much to excite me!

Let's Go

My apologies for the tardiness of my L post, but I was sitting at my computer this morning getting ready to do it when my husband walked in the door.  He had been out early helping an elderly couple with their yard work. 
He says to me, "I have to go to town, blah, blah, blah, blah".  The blah is all I heard after the word town. 
I was  on my feet and headed to the door.  You must think that I must be homebound and tied to the house all day, everyday.  That's not the case, the thing is, I love being in the car and just driving....anywhere.   I will let my car take me anywhere it wants to go.  I LOVE a road trip, near or far.
It's a win, win situation too.  I get to spend time with my husband which is always fun and he also takes me to lunch.  You can't beat that, can you?
Sorry, gotta go, the car is calling my name.  "Come on Honey, get the lead out and let's go"!
  

Knock, Knock, Who's There

Knock, knock?
    Who's there?
Butter
     Butter who?
I butter not tell you.

Knock, knock?
     Who's there?
Pencil
     Pencil who?
Pencil fall down if you don't have a belt.
 
When I was a kid I loved Knock, Knock jokes, who didn't? But now that I'm all grown up, they drive me a little nuts.  It may have something to do with the fact that my grandson used only speak "knock, knock". When he ran out of real knock knock jokes he would make up his own.

Knock, knock
     Who's there:
Foot
     Foot who?
Foot long hot dog.

Holy Cow, it gives me a headache just thinking about knock knock jokes.  No more for me, thank you.

By the way, knock starts to look like a really weird word after you write it so many times, don't you think?

Jogging, That's Like Fast Walking, Right?

I think the only thing that warrants jogging is when you are late for, I don't know, maybe a dinner appointment.
I toyed with the idea of taking up jogging once.  My problem with it was, to be able to jog without totally running out of breath I would probably have to lose, say 20 pounds.  So my options, as I saw them, were to, number one diet, or number two exercise, or I could do something radical and try them both at the same time  Oh, but then the third option occurred to me and that's the one I opted for.  Now I get my exercise by playing the Wii with my grandchildren.....on occasion.  Much easier and a heck of a lot more fun.
I am not proud of the fact that I hate to exercise.  I have always hated organized exercise programs and am so not motivated enough to do it on my own.  However, I really do think that if that exercise bug ever did bite me I might take up jogging.
In my mind it sounds fun.  You could put in those little ear bud things and listen to music and you could make new friends waving to all the people who drive by you in awe.  You could also stop and pick wildflowers to take home and decorate your house with.
The final deciding factor in my decision not to take up jogging is that where I live there are nothing but hills and hills go uphill. I would actually have to run uphill?  I don't think so!
Oh, and there are some wild animals where I live  and I know for a fact that I couldn't outrun a jackrabbit (especially uphill).
Some day, who knows, I might make news, but it won't be because of my jogging record and I certainly don't want it to be because...."local woman who was on her first jog ever was eaten whole by a mountain lion who was hot on her heels for 1/20 of a mile before he overtook her and had her for breakfast".
Yup, that cinched it for me.  I'm crossing jogging off my list.

Instructions, Who Needs 'Em?

Seriously, who needs them?  My disdain for instructions goes back to my teenage years when I "made" my first ever tapioca pudding.  It's pudding, how hard can it be, right?  Well, I'm here to tell you that you don't need an entire box of tapioca to make one serving of pudding.

In our marriage as Christmas time was approaching and our children asked Santa for all those cool toys that needed to be assembled, my husband and I would draw straws to see which one of us was going to get the good night sleep and which one of us was going to be up all night cursing at the instructions.  He and I are two peas in a pod when it comes to following instructions, we simply don't do it.
 
I love IKEA and the simple lines of their furniture.  The only problem is, this furniture comes in boxes, with lots of pieces and instructions.  And the instructions seems to be in every language except English.  Which really doesn't matter anyway because I'm certainly not going to try to read them.  Thank goodness the instruction come with pictures, I do love pictures.

They have a picture of everything, every nut and bolt, every tool, every piece of the furniture.  I think there was even a picture of what looked like the Pillsbury Dough Boy holding a wrench.  I don't know why he was there, but he was a familiar, comfortable sight, made me feel like I could do it!

And if ever it doesn't have all the screws and nails and nuts and bolts, not to worry, I have a drawer full of left over ones.  That could be the reason why my husband, when he was testing out the newly assembled bunk beds became a bunk bed sandwich.  Oh well, that's what  grey tape is for. Oh, and he was uninjured!

Home, There's No Place Like It

There really is no place like home.  Home is were all of ours hearts long to be.  It's the place we go to when we have nowhere else to go.
Three out of my four children have come home, not literally to our house, but to their hometown.  The place they grew up and have all those memories stored up.
Home is a little bit of a subjective word.  It can be your actual home, your house.  But more importantly it's where your heart is.  My younger sister used to go and spend the night at her friends house, but she never actually got through the entire night.  Before the night was over she came traipsing back home, she has always been a homebody, and still it.  But now her home, like mine, is with her own family in her own home.  It's where she loves to be.
Home is the first place where we learn.  We learn how to treat each other with love and respect, then we go out into the world and take that with us.  We learn about respect and forgiveness, first at home.  We learn about the value of kind words and charity.
I love being at home, like my sister I am a homebody.  It's the place I fell secure and the place I know that people love me just the crazy way I am and they don't judge me.  They scratch their heads at me sometimes, but never with judgement.
I really hope that everyone has a place that is home for them, whether it's their home or someplace that holds their heart.

Gargoyles are Cool!

I love gargoyles.  I have always been fascinated by them.  Do you ever wonder about the minds that design these guys, what do you suppose they dream about?

 

In architecture, a gargoyle is a carved stone, grotesque (no kidding) statue, usually made of granite.  People made these gargoyles  as decorative water spouts to throw water off of a building to help prevent erosion.  BUT...they also served as "protectors" to ward off evil spirits.  I don't care about protecting a building from water damage, but evil spirits, absolutely!  The gargoyles protect the occupants of a building from anything  evil and creepy.  I'm thinking they  don't just sit  there hoping to scare bad things away, I think that they must be sitting up on their perch and see the bad, evil thing come near their building and suddenly they come to life and swoop down and take care of the problem.

There was a TV series from 1994-1996 (who knew) called Gargoyles.  This is how the series is described, "In the dark ages, there was a race of heroic warrior monsters known as gargoyles.  These creatures existed as stone in the day but became flesh and blood by night".   Didn't I tell you!

 

This is my gargoyle that faithfully protects my home.  As you can see, he's been through a lot.  He has given both wings in defense of my family.  I'm pretty sure he lost his wings fighting off a couple of 4 year olds.  He takes his job very seriously.

 

Friendship

Friends, pal, bff's, buddies, besties, no matter what name you use everyone has them and everyone needs them.  Friendships are an important aspect of our lives.
To be honest, I don't have a whole lot of friends.  I have church friends, old high school friends, friends that are family, and friends that have come into my life through a mutual need.  But I am not good at making friends.  I have lots of aquaintances, it's very easy for me to talk to strangers.  But it's so hard to cultivate new friendships.   Maybe I'm just lazy, making and keeping friends is a lot of work.
The friends that I do have are wonderful friends and they are perfect friends for me.  Anyone of my friends would be at my side in a split second if they sensed a need and I would do the same for them.
C.S. Lewis said, "Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another:
What! You too?  I thought I was the only one."
We need to keep our friends close, cultivate those friendships, and never take them for gtranted.

Ahhh, Blessed Elastic

I think that the person who invented Elastic should be awarded the Nobel prize for comfort.
Whoever it was must have been sitting around his cabin in the woods after leaving the first Thanksgiving feast trying to unbutton his britches, yearning for comfort and relief.  But he's a really old guy with arthritis in both hands from digging his field and shucking his corn for 75 years and he just can't get those buttons undone"
This old guy thinks "\if only I have britches that stretched, I wouldn't be in in this predicament."  But, alas, he has to suffer through the night regretting that extra helping of squirrel stew he ate.
On the verge of sleep he has an epiphany....elastic is born!
I'm not ashamed to admit that I love my elastic waist pants.  I like nothing better than to change into what my grandson calls my "giving up on life" pants, better known as sweatpants, after a long day of confinement in a dress or anything with a zipper.
Bless you, whoever you are, for inventing elastic and putting them in the waist of my britches.

Daydream Believer

That's exactly what I am, a  believer in daydreaing.  I used to feel a little silly when I would just zone out for just a bit and go to someplace that was more hospitable at that particular moment, but no more.  No matter how great life is, and my is great, there are times when you just want to go somewhere else.  A little escape at the beach or helping to find a cure for cancer, or even, just being someone else for a little bit.
There are two schools of thoughts about daydreaming.  There is, in fact, a bonafide daydreaming disorder.  It's called maladjustive daydreaming.  It describes a person who excessively daydreams or fantasizes.  I don't think I'm excessive.  It's not like I live, full-time, in my own little world of my own making.  I'm just a regular, part-time daydreamer who needs that "time off" occasionally.
People with

this disorder actually know the difference between reality and fantasy so I'm not really grasping the problem.
I'm a Monkee's kind of daydreamer.  "You once thought of me as a knight on a steed, now you know how happy I can be".  I really don't have a clue what that means, but it does sound happy, don't you think?
The "experts" concede that there are upsides to daydreaming such as improved creativity, improved memory, and it lowers blood pressure.  Okay,those are not working for me. I suppose I'll have to keep on daydreaming until they kick in.

Chubby is as Chubby Feels

Chubby Checker, Chubby cheeks, and  Chubby Burger.....all nice things, but when I think of the word chubby I think of the time that I went away to sleep away camp (the one and only time I ever did, at least in my youth).
It was a YMCA girls camp and I went with my best friend Sharon, who lived across the street from me.  It was a great camp, cabins, campfires, marshmallows, all the good stuff.  They even had a swimming pool.  I couldn't swim, never learned, but I stayed in the shallow end and had fun, at least until.....
Just like everywhere else, camp had it's "mean girls".  There was probably a gang of 6 or 7 of them that liked to torment me by chanting "chubby can't swim, chubby can't swim".  Now, at that age I don't even remember being chubby but maybe that was just because no one I knew was mean enough to call me that.  Who knows?
I was a very shy girl and I guess my choice of a white bathing suit against my snow white skin was not the best look for me.   It must have brought out the chub in me. Who knew, at the age of 12, that black was slimming?
That summer at camp really made an impression on me. At first I was so hurt and angry at those "mean girls" but, eventually, I got over being mad . 
I did learn that mean is not cool.  It taught me the lesson of kindness.  Now, granted, there were times in my growing up (especially teenage) years where I lost sight of that lesson.  But it has never really left me. I have tried hard not to be judgemental or just plain mean.  I'm a much happier person because of that lesson and I am grateful that my children also learned it, although I never had to call them chubby to teach it to them.
And all these years later I have learned that my happiness is not measured in pounds.

Bonanza

Bonanza!  I grew up in an age when the tv lineup was filled with family sitcoms and westerns.  We sat in front of the tv all together as a family every Saturday night to watch them.  I loved them and I loved just the simple night of simple tv viewing.

Well, my husband has recently rediscovered ALL the old westerns that they play  as reruns, his favorite being Bonanza.

If you are of my era then you may have grown up with the same families that I did, the Nelsons, the Ricardos, and of course, Ben, Adam, Hoss, Little Joe, and Hop Sing.

Back to my husband.....he recently had knee replacement surgery.  And you know how that goes, it lays you up for a while.  He was out of commission for several weeks and had to find something to fill his hours in between making a trek to the bathroom or refrigerator (using his trusty walker, it was a sight).  So while he was parked on the couch in the den he, naturally, turned on the television.  Who knew that we even had the Western Channel? 

There was a bucket load of westerns to choose from, Big Valley, High Chaparral, Wagon Train, and Rawhide, but his favorite became Bonanza.  Bonanza lit up his 60 incher four hours a day.  I love Hoss too, but really!

Well, now he's walking around, even driving.  He's not so sedentary anymore but he still has not been able to make a break from the Cartwright family.  He loves to regale me with Little Joes exploits and Hoss's kindness.  I have to tell you it's getting harder and harder to look interested when my husband tells me the story of an episode from start to happy ending.

So after every episode that he watches I get a bonanza of information about the Cartwrights.  After all, they are his second family.

How many years was Bonanza on tv anyway?  And how long will it be before my husband runs out of episodes?

Anticipation

Anticipation is a sweet thing.  For me the anticipation is a bit of a double edged sword.

I love the anticipation of a vacation (to anywhere), a new baby expected in the family, Christmas, Wednesday night SyFy, and reuniting with a child that you haven't seen for eighteen months.

The anticipation is almost as fun as whatever it is you are anxiously awaiting.

HOWEVER, on the other hand the anticipation of something unpleasant is a killer.  I have a way to deal with what I call negative anticipation.  Say I have to go to the doctor, you know, for that dreaded yearly visit.  I make the appointment, put it on my calender and then totally put it out of my mind because, after all, I'm not even going to keep the appointment, am I?
The day of appointment gets here, I get dressed, get in the car, and go.

The thing is, I always know I am going but for those few brief days or weeks leading up to the event or appointment I can put it completely out of my head and am in total denial.

Anticipation, good or bad, I can handle it!!

Disclaimer

Before I begin the A-Z challange let me tell you that I am not sure I'm even doing this right.  I signed up, my name was on the very long list, but I'm still not sure.  I am going to do this anyway and hope for the best, it really sounded like it would be fun, so.....here goes.

Strawberries, the Perfect Fruit

This is the time of year (one of the times of year) that I really love.  It's the time the strawberry guys comes to our town.  He brings his luscious strawberries from the central coast and sets up shop on several different corners in and around town.  And, believe me when I say they are the very best strawberries ever grown.
I grew up in Orange County in the 50's and 60's (gosh, I can't believe that came out of my mouth (or keyboard actually) so easily.  Anyhow, it was a time when there were strawberry fields all over the place and there were strawberry stands galore.  And I never did pass up a strawberry stand, I still don't.
You can do anything with strawberries, put them in salads, dip them in sweetened condensed milk, pile them high in a pie,  put them in milkshakes, dip them in chocolate.  There is absolutely nothing you can't do with a strawberry!  Oh yes, and you can even eat them plain.
But.....my favorite thing to do with a strawberry is to make soup with it.  If you haven't tried it you have no idea what you have missed.  Luscious, it is luscious.  We used to call strawberry soup birthday soup because we used to make it for every one's birthday.  But our soups nickname has changed.  Our, then, 10 year old grandson changed it's name.
One year our Idaho grandson was visiting us for the summer.  We had so much fun having him for the summer and we hated to see him leave at the end of his visit.  so we decided to have strawberry soup  the night before he left.   Our 10 year old grandson was so sad that his cousin, whom he loves very much, was leaving that he decided it wasn't birthday soup anymore, now it was sad soup.
But strawberry soup by any other name is still delicious!

Fahrenheit 451

My 15 year old grandson was assigned to read Fahrenheit 451 for his English class.  As he read he kept telling me how confusing it was and how he really didn't like it.  Well, having never read it before (I know, shame on me), I decided to read it so I could talk with him about it and maybe help him understand it a little better.

And, what do you know, it turned out to be one of those books that I LOVED.  It's full of symbolism and moral lessons and it was kind of exciting.  So, if you haven't read Fahrenheit 451 I would recommend it highly.

You  probably already know this, but it's about, in part, a fireman who starts fires instead of putting them out.  He burns books, just as Benjamin Franklin did as the very first fireman, according to Ray Bradbury anyway.  Read it, you'll like it!

And now I'm off the the DMV to take my mom to get her CA drivers license.  Wish me luck!

Get Ready, It's Coming

Nothing says Spring like soft little ducks, right?

Even the snails make me smile

Just getting you in the mood, it's on it's way (I'm not even going to think about the snow that's coming on Friday!).  Springtime.........

Beautiful Springtime

Yes, Virgina (or Emma) There are Nice People in California

 My Mom moved back to California after over 20 years in Oklahoma.  She has been here since November, but for some reason she is constantly surprised that people are nice here.  Every time she goes somewhere she will go on and on about how nice everyone was to her.  I think she must have expected them to curse at her and call her names.
Well, I am a big fan of people and I know that nice people are everywhere, yes, even in California.  And I want to tell you about my experience with one of those very nice people.
My husband has recently gone through knee replacement surgery, he's recovering nicely but has not been able to attend church for the last two weeks.  At church today many people stopped by to ask how my husband was doing and to say hi to my mom who came to church with us today.  By the way, she was totally surprised that everyone was so nice and went out of their way to introduce themselves to her.
Anyway, we are sitting on the couch early afternoon and someone knocks at our door.  That in itself is unusual because people come to the backdoor.  I go to answer the door and there stands a gentleman, whom I do not recognize, wearing a suit.  He introduces himself to me and tells me that he and his wife are here for the week from San Diego, just visiting, on vacation. He was at church that morning, he says, and in one the meetings people were talking about my husband 's surgery.  He tells us that he and his wife will be here for the week and wants to know what they can do to help us out.  "Anything" he says, "from stacking firewood to cleaning toilets".  And, yes, he really did say just that.
Even I was impressed with his niceness and his unselfish willingness to serve perfect strangers.
I've said it before and I'll say it again, people are good and kind and I love them.

The Airport, Great Place for a Vacation

I have "one of those faces".  You know, the face that everyone relates to for some reason or seems to recognize.  No matter where I go there is someone who thinks they know me from somewhere.  We were in New York, on Ellis Island years ago.  They were presenting a reenactment of people getting off the ship and stepping onto the Island.  The entire time one of the actors kept looking  my way.  Afterward he came up to me and asked me if he knew me, that I looked so familiar to him.  Well, I didn't know him, but I really get to meet lots of nice people because of my "familiar face".
Another perk of my "one of those faces" is that people talk to me and they tell me life stories; their life stories, from beginning to present.  These people who tell me these things probably get home and wonder why on earth they told a perfect stranger about their Aunt Ethyl whose husband cheated on her and, long story short, ended up in prison.

On my flight home from my daughters home in Idaho I sat next to a man who told me his life story, from childhood to falling in love to divorce to all three of this children and what they are doing at this very moment.  He told me about the alimony he has to pay his wife and about his lawyer who is trying to get it so he doesn't have to pay so much.  He told me all about his career and where it has taken him.  He happened to be the CIO of Dole, you know the pineapple people.  But I have to tell you that actually pineapple is a small part of the Dole Company, they really make their money with bananas (CIO man told me so).  Nice guy, but boy, did he talk.
Also during my trip and my stay in the airport I have become a member of a club.  It is called the "Glued to your handheld electronic device" club.  It's not a very exclusive club and if the other members knew how inept I am with anything electronic they would probably expel me.
One more little thing.  I have to admit that I am just a little star stuck.  I actually look for those familiar celebrity faces at the airport.  And it paid off, I saw Powers Boothe.  A little disappointed though, he's very ordinary looking.  I was hoping for someone more like Bruce Willis, oh well.....(that's for you, Erin).
P.P.S.
I think I'm going to be British next time I'm at the airport and can be anonymous.  Or maybe I'll just make up a language like my friends and I did when we were out in public during grade school.

"Three things in life are important: the first is to be kind, the second is to be kind, and the third is to be kind"               Henry James

Too Much Animal Planet?

Is there anything such as too much Animal Planet?  Until Saturday night I would have said, "absolutely not!"
I couldn't sleep at all Saturday night so I got up, went into the den and turned on the tv.  There wasn't anything I wanted to watch so I decided to watch something I had recorded.  Ah ha, Animal Planet, one of my favorite channels.  I have an episode of Infested recorded so that's what I decided to watch. 
I am not a really squeemy person, I can take a lot  At least I used to think I could take a lot.  This episode was about three different families who had different infestations.  One was brown widow spiders.  I never even knew there was such a thing, believe me there is!  Another family was infested with scorpions, ewwwhhhh.  That's a whole other post.  Then there was the mother and her young daughter.  They started hearing noises that they couldn't explain.  Then they saw peanuts all over the walkways and yard and then they saw THEM.
They were everywhere and multiplying by the hundreds in the garage.  Have you ever seen a baby rat.  Man, are they ugly.  My apologies to rat lovers, I know that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  My eye did not behold beauty.
The mom finally was able to find out that her neighbor was feeding peanuts to squirrels, hence the rats, they do love anything peanuty apparently.
The mom very politely explained her horrible rat situation to the neighbor and the neighbor refused to stop feeding the squirrels (I think the neighbor must have felt some sort of kinship to them).
Long story short, right......the city got involved and the rats were taken care of.  And in deference to the rat lovers I will not go into detail about the extermination process.
Well, I finally went to bed but I still couldn't sleep.  I was very tired but the rats and the scorpions crawling all over me all night kept me from sleeping.  And when I did doze off I heard them.  So, I ask myself is watching shows like Infested, Hoarders, and Fatal Attractions worth it?  I have decided........yes.

Can Life Get Anymore Ridiculous?

My husband owns his own business, he has an office in our home.
Seeing that his office is in our home we have people coming and going quite a bit.  Actually, it's mostly family, but they come and go.
Well, yesterday was a day to remember.
Without warning our front door burst open and crazy men with black masks and automatic weapons came running through the open door.  We had nowhere to hide, no convenient desk to climb under so there was only one thing to do.
I pushed past the half dozen armed terrorists and ran straight to  my sewing room.  I grabbed my sewing scissors, ran back to where the armed men were holding my family and I successfully subdued them with my pinking sheers.  Wow, it's a good thing I just had my sewing scissors sharpened!

Now, I don't mean to make light of all the horrific events of late that have involved gunmen.  It breaks my heart to know that so many lives have been taken and there are others who may never recover emotionally.
But the ridiculous commercial that Homeland Security put out was totally offensive to me.  I just wish they would put out a commercial that helps us to understand that we have the power to protect ourselves and our families, not even neccessarily with guns, but certainly not with scissors.

Serendipity

Serendipity means a "happy accident" or "pleasant surprise", specifically the accident of finding something good or useful while not specifically searching for it.

I had a very serendipitous day yesterday and I have not left my kitchen since then.  Let me tell you why.

The Verizon guy came (all the way from Yucaipa) yesterday.  He was here to install our updated, faster internet.  While he was working on a cable on the wall by our TV he just happened to mention that he was also a DirectTV installer.  It didn't take too long for my little mind to go to work.

When the last directtv guy was here he undid the cable connected to my little kitchen tv to install a fancy, shmancy new dvr. Well, no one has been able to fix that for me.  I love my kitchen tv, I like watching the news while I'm in there and I just like having the noise.  I have missed my tv desperately! 

After the  Verizon guy said he could do directtv I jumped at the chance to let him know that I needed help.  He directly went to his truck, got out some new cables and got my little kitchen tv working.  Excellent!!

While in my kitchen he also noticed my little notebook computer which we haven't been able to get connected to the internet for quite a while not.   I have also missed my little computer, I like looking up recipes and maybe do a teeny bit of internet shopping while I am doing whatever I do in the kitchen (that seldom involves cooking).  Well, Verizon guy fixed my computer. 

So now, I have TV in my kitchen, I have my computer in my kitchen, which, by the way is 10x faster, at least that's what Verizon guys tells me.

I am HAPPY, I have not left my kitchen since yesterday at 2:00pm.  I have everything I need, food, drink, tv, computer. 

Serendipity, I didn't search this out.  It was a total surprise.  I love, love, love when those things happen.  What a great way to start off a new year.  I'm feeling optimistic.

Pizza, pizza

Okay, I do not make new years resolutions.  I do, however, make goals for the new year.  One of my goals was to make real dinners, with real ingredients and skip the easy, albeit yummy, fast food.  Yes, I know that yummy is not really the word most people would choose to describe fast food, but I am not particular.  Anything that I do not have to make in my own kitchen with my own hands is yummy.
I even went shopping to Winco on New Years Day so I could stock up on everything I would need to make dinners for the month.  That was almost a week ago, right?  Well, I have failed miserably on my first goal.  As I sit at the computer I am waiting for the pizza guy to call and tell me that he is on his way with my very- non homemade, but very delicious, pizza.
This is the way I look at it.  I made it almost an entire week.  Really, how great is that?  And in all likelihood, I can make it another whole week (after my pizza tonight).  Baby steps, right?
Besides, I really don't won't our local pizza people to think that I am mad at them, that would just be mean.

A Lot on a Little Gals Mind

I have a granddaughter with a lot on her mind lately, poor thing.
It just hurts my heart to see her burdened with such heavy thoughts weighing her down.
She was sitting next to me in church this morning with her hands pressed against either side of her head as if she had a very bad headache.
This little girl looked up at me with concern in her eyes and said to me, "Grandma, pre-school is just driving me crazy, just crazy".  So, of course, I ask her, "why is that?"  She tells me, "everyone is just so noisy that I can't hear myself think anymore".
This is the thing that weighs so heavily on her mind these days, noisy four year olds who are interrupting her thought process. 
I wonder what it is that a four year old needs to think about so seriously that she needs silence to do so.