"Be always at war with your vices, at peace with our neighbors, and let each new year find you a better man (or woman)"
Benjamin Franklin
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Desperate For A Haircut
I wear my hair very short, I love it very short. And as anyone with short hair can tell you, the minute you can feel the back of your hair on your collar it's past time to get a haircut.
Now, I have been going to the same girl for a lot of years. We started out together at Cost Cutters (I don't like to spend much on my haircuts!). Then I followed her over to her own shop in town. My haircutting girl's name is Alicia. She is from Columbia.....a Columbia that you couldn't pay me to visit. I'm not sure what part of Columbia she grew up in but I do know that it's the part with a lot of corrupt officials and a lot of drug cartels, at least I think that's what she said. She has a very thick accent and I am not good with accents. So I have to listen very hard when she talks and that is the entire time she is cutting my hair. So she could actually be from the part of Columbia where there are a lot of colorful offices and a lot of bug cartons. I'm not really sure.
The thing is, she does not take appointments. It's all walk in. Well, whenever I walk in she is never there. So Friday was the last straw. I was going to a family party Friday night and I felt like I looked, I don't know, maybe matronly? I feel younger when my hair is cut short I guess. So I drive into town way past the time that Alicia says she opens for business and guess what? Again, no Alicia. So I sit in my car for a few minutes trying to decide if I want to hang around town and hope she shows up. Well, I don't. I had things to do.
I get on the phone and call my daughter. My daughter cuts her husbands hair all of the time, so I ask if she is willing to cut mine. She's a little nervous but very willing to do it, so I drive on out and sit in the "haircutting" chair while she gets out the implements, meaning scissors and stuff.
The process takes about an hour or so and I come away with a fantastic haircut. I LOVE it. I have always said that Alicia is the only one who cuts my hair exactly as I want it cut every time. But that's no longer the case.
I have to tell you, though, that before Rachel agreed to cut my hair she told me that her husbands father would probably be glad to cut my hair. After all he recently took the clippers to his wives hair and when I saw her at Christmas her hair looked great. However, before that time she was wearing a wig to hide the haircut for about a month. I declined the offer. I don't own a wig.
Now, I have been going to the same girl for a lot of years. We started out together at Cost Cutters (I don't like to spend much on my haircuts!). Then I followed her over to her own shop in town. My haircutting girl's name is Alicia. She is from Columbia.....a Columbia that you couldn't pay me to visit. I'm not sure what part of Columbia she grew up in but I do know that it's the part with a lot of corrupt officials and a lot of drug cartels, at least I think that's what she said. She has a very thick accent and I am not good with accents. So I have to listen very hard when she talks and that is the entire time she is cutting my hair. So she could actually be from the part of Columbia where there are a lot of colorful offices and a lot of bug cartons. I'm not really sure.
The thing is, she does not take appointments. It's all walk in. Well, whenever I walk in she is never there. So Friday was the last straw. I was going to a family party Friday night and I felt like I looked, I don't know, maybe matronly? I feel younger when my hair is cut short I guess. So I drive into town way past the time that Alicia says she opens for business and guess what? Again, no Alicia. So I sit in my car for a few minutes trying to decide if I want to hang around town and hope she shows up. Well, I don't. I had things to do.
I get on the phone and call my daughter. My daughter cuts her husbands hair all of the time, so I ask if she is willing to cut mine. She's a little nervous but very willing to do it, so I drive on out and sit in the "haircutting" chair while she gets out the implements, meaning scissors and stuff.
The process takes about an hour or so and I come away with a fantastic haircut. I LOVE it. I have always said that Alicia is the only one who cuts my hair exactly as I want it cut every time. But that's no longer the case.
I have to tell you, though, that before Rachel agreed to cut my hair she told me that her husbands father would probably be glad to cut my hair. After all he recently took the clippers to his wives hair and when I saw her at Christmas her hair looked great. However, before that time she was wearing a wig to hide the haircut for about a month. I declined the offer. I don't own a wig.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Life Is Way Too Short
I just finished reading a book by Fanny Flagg (love her) called "I Still Dream About You". I wasn't too sure if I was going to like it, it's very unlike most of her other books, but as it went on I came to love the story and, most of all, the characters. I especially loved Maggie Fortenberry, the main character and former Miss Alabama who is now in her 60's. Maggie has lived most of her life with her past in the fore front of her mind, at least until the end of the book. I won't tell you the ending, you may want to read it yourself and be delightfully surprised, as I was. Oops, sorry, spoiler.
Anyway, what with reading the book and the coming of the new year I have come to the same conclusion that Maggie did; life is just too darn short to waste it. I've made a mental list of things that life is too short to do or not to do, and I'm going to share them with you if you're interested. I'd be willing to bet that you have a list of your own.
First of all, life is too short to hold a grudge, even against a sister who keeps doing the same dumb things time and time again. I've decided that I can't help what she has done or what she will do in the future, I can only help how I react to her. She's my sister and I will love her despite her actions. Although, I won't always love her actions. I am not going to pass by Carlos' donut shop when I am dying for an apple fritter. I'm going to stop in, say hi to Carlos, order my donut and sit and eat and relish it guilt free. I am not going to feel personally offended when the mean checker at the grocery store doesn't even look at me and say thank you, I will simply understand that perhaps she's had a crappy day. We all have those from time to time. Life is too short to not stop cleaning the kitchen and sit down with my grandchildren and play the new game they got for Christmas, Queen something or other. I'm not going to covet that cute little green Fiat that I love that is parked in the lot by Jack in the Box and wonder how could someone who works at a fast food place afford that car. I'm just going to be thankful that I don't have a car payment. Life is absolutely too short to wear those cute red high heels that I bought, but make my feet feel like I've just walked 100 miles in combat boots across the Gobi Desert. I am not going to feel guilty about my reality tv shows that bring me much amusement. I am going to enjoy every single day of this new year and hopefully handle the bumps in the road with grace. And...I am going to stop slouching and stand up straight.
Anyway, what with reading the book and the coming of the new year I have come to the same conclusion that Maggie did; life is just too darn short to waste it. I've made a mental list of things that life is too short to do or not to do, and I'm going to share them with you if you're interested. I'd be willing to bet that you have a list of your own.
First of all, life is too short to hold a grudge, even against a sister who keeps doing the same dumb things time and time again. I've decided that I can't help what she has done or what she will do in the future, I can only help how I react to her. She's my sister and I will love her despite her actions. Although, I won't always love her actions. I am not going to pass by Carlos' donut shop when I am dying for an apple fritter. I'm going to stop in, say hi to Carlos, order my donut and sit and eat and relish it guilt free. I am not going to feel personally offended when the mean checker at the grocery store doesn't even look at me and say thank you, I will simply understand that perhaps she's had a crappy day. We all have those from time to time. Life is too short to not stop cleaning the kitchen and sit down with my grandchildren and play the new game they got for Christmas, Queen something or other. I'm not going to covet that cute little green Fiat that I love that is parked in the lot by Jack in the Box and wonder how could someone who works at a fast food place afford that car. I'm just going to be thankful that I don't have a car payment. Life is absolutely too short to wear those cute red high heels that I bought, but make my feet feel like I've just walked 100 miles in combat boots across the Gobi Desert. I am not going to feel guilty about my reality tv shows that bring me much amusement. I am going to enjoy every single day of this new year and hopefully handle the bumps in the road with grace. And...I am going to stop slouching and stand up straight.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
I Can Do Stuff Now
Yes, indeed. As my son-in-law said, I've have finally joined the 21st century. It takes me awhile to transition from one century to the next, but I did it!
I got a new phone, a phone that does stuff. All sorts of stuff, stuff I never even dreamed of doing before. My new phone makes me feel like I have been carrying around one of those foot long, 5 pound phones from the....was it the 70's? Anyway, I LOVE my new phone.
Only one problem, texting. Now, I don't do a lot of texting, but people text me and I don't want them to think I am ignoring them so I like to text them back, it's only polite. Texting on my old phone was easy, isn't it suppose to be even easier on these new fangled things? I thought it was going to be a breeze. I watch tv, I see Rizzoli get out her phone and do remarkable things in no time flat. I want to do that. But, for some reason I cannot seem to send a text. What the heck is wrong with me?
So, I do what I always do. I call my daughter. She comes over and takes my phone (she's a wiz with this kind of thing) and plays with it and plays with it and finally gives up, She cannot figure it out either. Surely we are not both stupid, are we?
Well, Steve and I are going into town to go to a movie so we may as well stop by the ATT store and see what they say. There was a reason that I ordered my phone on the phone and not the ATT store, now I remember what it was....they are not any smarter then I am. They cannot determine the problem, they don't know why I cannot send a text. "I think you should just call and see what they can do for you" says the no brighter than I am girl.
So, I do. It took them all of 10 seconds to figure out what the problem is. When I ordered my phone the girl on the other end of the phone took my texting plan off of my phone plan. Why did she do this, I ask. Don't know, was the reply.
She put it back on my plan and now I am a happy texter again. And I must say that I felt not nearly as dumb as I was just moments ago.
I got a new phone, a phone that does stuff. All sorts of stuff, stuff I never even dreamed of doing before. My new phone makes me feel like I have been carrying around one of those foot long, 5 pound phones from the....was it the 70's? Anyway, I LOVE my new phone.
Only one problem, texting. Now, I don't do a lot of texting, but people text me and I don't want them to think I am ignoring them so I like to text them back, it's only polite. Texting on my old phone was easy, isn't it suppose to be even easier on these new fangled things? I thought it was going to be a breeze. I watch tv, I see Rizzoli get out her phone and do remarkable things in no time flat. I want to do that. But, for some reason I cannot seem to send a text. What the heck is wrong with me?
So, I do what I always do. I call my daughter. She comes over and takes my phone (she's a wiz with this kind of thing) and plays with it and plays with it and finally gives up, She cannot figure it out either. Surely we are not both stupid, are we?
Well, Steve and I are going into town to go to a movie so we may as well stop by the ATT store and see what they say. There was a reason that I ordered my phone on the phone and not the ATT store, now I remember what it was....they are not any smarter then I am. They cannot determine the problem, they don't know why I cannot send a text. "I think you should just call and see what they can do for you" says the no brighter than I am girl.
So, I do. It took them all of 10 seconds to figure out what the problem is. When I ordered my phone the girl on the other end of the phone took my texting plan off of my phone plan. Why did she do this, I ask. Don't know, was the reply.
She put it back on my plan and now I am a happy texter again. And I must say that I felt not nearly as dumb as I was just moments ago.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
The Perfect Tree
I remember going out to find the perfect Christmas tree with my dad. Oh my goodness, what a chore it always turned out to be. We drove from lot to lot looking for perfection. Us kids would find one and point it out to our dad, "how about this one, it's beautiful" we would all plead. "No, that's not quite it". So our search would continue....and continue.
When we did find the perfect tree, we tied it to the top of the car and took it home in excited anticipation of decorating it. That was a family affair. However, Dad was there to direct our every movement with a critical eye. I remember trying to toss tinsel on the tree a little haphazardly and was gently scolded and shown how to put it on very deliberately.
As an adult and as my children were growing up I saw so much of my dad's traits in me. Christmas, at least the picking out the tree part of it, was miserable for my children. I had to find the perfect tree, I knew it was out there somewhere. Nothing less would do. And. although, I always thought we found it, when we got it home it more often than not resembled Charlie Browns pathetic little tree. Perhaps I should have listened when the children showed me their perfect trees, sorry kids! I did try to be gentle and tolerant when decorating the tree and I'm hoping that they never saw me cringe when they placed two red ornaments too close together. I bit my tongue and waited patiently until they all were tucked into bed and then I rearranged the offending ornaments.
I find myself doing some of the same things my dad used to do. BUT, you will never find the fire department at our home on the day after Christmas responding to a call of a tree burning in the fireplace.
Fudge Recipe on the Back of a Jar of Fluff, Easy!
I have never kidded myself into thinking that I can cook, I know that I can't and I'm okay with that. However, I've always thought of myself as a pretty good baker and candy maker (with the exception of chocolate chip cookies). My problem stems from the directions, it's not that I can't read them or understand them, honestly. I learned to read in school and I'm pretty good at it and I can understand most things. The problem with the directions is that I simply refuse to read them. What can they tell me that I can't just figure out for myself? Apparently quite a lot.
Once when I was a bit younger and not nearly as smart as I am now I wanted to make some tapioca pudding, I love that stuff. So I add everything that I need, milk, sugar, egg yolk and the entire box of tapioca. What, you say I don't need the entire box? Well I found that out after the fact. Needless to say, it didn't turn out the way I had envisioned. Oh well, better luck next time, right?
So yesterday I was going to make fudge. You know that fudge recipe on the back of the jar of marshmallow creme, easy as pie, right? So I glance at the recipe, take notice of the ingredients and start pouring them into the pan. I stir the sugar and butter and evaporated milk until it boils and let it boil for 5 minutes (the recipe said 4 minutes, but 5 is better, don't you think?). I take it off of the stove and add the chocolate chips and stir til they melt, then I add the marshmallow creme and the vanilla. I stir and stir and stir, but it's still a bit soupy. But I pour it into the pan and tell my husband that we can probably use it on the vanilla ice cream that I bought that day. It'll be good fudge sauce. So all is not lost.
BUT, this morning I take it out of the refrigerator to take a look at it and it has gotten harder, not hard enough, but harder.
And then I have a flash of memory. When I was a Brownie (for all of 2 weeks) it was my turn to bring the treats. I forgot to tell my working mother that I needed treats in 30 minutes. She barely flinched. She got out her pot and her utensils and all the ingredients for fudge.Not the easy on the back of the jar of marshmallow creme fudge, but the time consuming, get it to the soft ball stage kind of fudge. Keep in mind that she only had 30 minutes. The fudge didn't have time to set and I was probably whining and crying about it so she got out the powdered sugar, made balls from the fudge and rolled them in the powdered sugar. My fellow Brownies thought they were great.
So, later this afternoon, after I put some of the fudge, and I use the term very loosely, away to put on ice cream, I will roll the rest in powdered sugar and silently thank my mom for her grace and ingenuity.
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