Change is Good.

Right. This morning, after my Sunday visit with Opus, I wandered upstairs to add my thoughts to a "to be named later" post. I do this sometimes when an idea comes calling that I do not want to lose. For about the past month, or longer I guess, I have been getting hints from Blogger that they would really prefer I move on over to "The New Blogger". I pass right on by them and sign in the old and familiar way.

Today this was not to be the case. The EvilBloggerOverlord hijacked my Dashboard and literally moved it over. Not only that, it would not let me in unless I moved over with it. Boy, do I hate not being in control. I fumed about it awhile, then I got scared. What if I lost everything? The only way to find out was to commit the ultimate act of Blogger submission. I went on over to the dark side. After all, what else could I do? I could see my little piece of blogdom, but I couldn't get to it. You know, the old "You can't get there from here" line.

So, anyway, here we are. I haven't experimented with it very much. Maybe there will be some good stuff once I get into it. I did notice that the nice little pictures that accompanied the comments are gone and some now have an "anonymous" where a familiar name used to be. Don't like that much but we'll see what happens. It's not like I had a choice, here.

Pffft, as Tink would say.

Am I the only one that was left in "Old Blogger"?
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And another thing. What in the hell is Bush thinking?

Today Willi and I stopped by Red Robin for a burger and as I looked over the top of my menu I saw a group of men in army fatigues eating lunch. There were about ten in all. They were varied in age; a couple looked like they might have been a little younger than me although most looked to be in their early to mid-twenties. One in particular didn't look old enough to drive. They had American flag patches on their shoulders. Some people went over and shook their hands. One lady took their picture with her little girl. It made my stomach ache. I hope they will not be in harm's way. I do not want to read about them in the paper or post their picture with a sad commentary. This really needs to stop.

Courtesy of Odd Mix, the words are Start and Again.

If all of the conditions are right in the morning...if we get up early enough and don't linger over the morning paper too long...Willi blesses my morning with his Mocha Latte creation. Don't let the Starbuck's travel cup fool you; that is how I get it to work. This is Willi's own recipe and handiwork - and a great Start to my day.

Today it snowed yet Again! Yipee! And I thought winter was going to pass us by! Hah!

Isn't this a cool looking plant? After reading about the Christmas Cactus in my last post, Daddy D sent this picture. The plant belonged to his mom's dad. It grows from a bulb. Pretty neat, huh? Thanks, Daddy D!

January Gift

Some gifts come right when you expect them. There's really not much of a surprise, except what you find when you untie the ribbon. Then there are the gifts like the one that came this week. This Christmas Cactus has been around for as long as I can remember. She basked in the glow of my mom's love and affection for many years, and even survived my neglect for that year or so when my visits to her empty house were few and far between. She enjoys the somewhat sheltered outdoors from spring to fall and then winters inside. This summer she moved from the cracked old pot that held her rootbound soul to a shiny new one with room to grow. The downside, I was told, was that she would not bloom until she grew into her new pot.

That is why I was so surprised to see this beautiful bloom. If you look closely, you can see it hanging from the bottom on the right.

Granted, there are usually many more flowers this time of year. But this one beautiful bloom came at just the right time to lift my spirits.

A closer look this morning found two more tiny little buds. Who knows what this January gift will bring in February!
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Crafty Challenge Update:
There were four friends who took the challenge in my last post. Crafts of my making will be going to Daddy D, Ch3ll3, Susan and Debi.
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In a Nutshell...will return next post. It's going to take a little more thought than I have to give right now! You may want to wander on over and visit Maya's Granny. She's filling a nutshell, too; and at a much faster rate! Go Granny, go!

Crafty Challenge

Our house has three bedrooms. Well it used to have anyway. Now it has one bedroom, a computer/music room where I puter and Willi plays his guitars, and a guest/craft room. The last of the three rooms looks like a plain old bedroom when company comes, complete with a day bed. If you take a closer look you will find a veritable delicatessen of craft supplies; some of them mine, some are my daughter's, and some were even my mom's. Many are projects in various stages of completion.

That's right. I come by it honestly. It's in my blood. I am a closet crafter. I may not see as well as I used to, and sometimes my fingers aren't quite as nimble, but the love of the craft is still there.

Graymama, in this post, offered up a crafty challenge. The first five people to comment would receive a personally handcrafted item. In the true spirit of "paying it forward" they would also be obligated to post a similar offer on their blog.

I hemmed and hawed. After all, it was November and the holidays were right around the corner. I'm in a new job; company was coming for Christmas. I couldn't make the big "C". You know - COMMITMENT! I did what any self respecting crafter would do, one who could not stand to pass up an offer like this one, I e-mailed Graymama to let her know I was interested but couldn't COMMIT until after the holidays. And guess what? It was ok with her because she was way busy, too.

So. If you are interested in this crafty challenge, shoot me an e-mail. The first five people to respond will receive a personally hand crafted gift made by me. I will contact you for your mailing address as soon as it is done. Here is the challenge part. I'm changing it just a little. You can make a similar offer on your blog, OR you can "pay a kindness forward", and then share it with the rest of us. That's it! You're going to have to trust me on the craft part, but the surprise is half the fun of it.

So, what do you think?

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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
This may take awhile...
join us if you like.


8. My parents felt strongly about passing on these lessons: both of my parents, by example, taught me the importance of doing things the "right way", meaning that easy was not always better. It was a sometimes painful lesson, but valuable just the same. One year I had a foods project in 4-H and had decided to make a braided yeast roll with a date filling. I had practiced so many times trying to make it come out right that every family member, friend, and neighbor had at least one that summer. There were other similar projects over the years and the lessons I learned in their completion have helped me many times over. Another thing I learned that is equally as important is having the good sense to realize when the project, job, or undertaking is just plain bigger than me and what I really have to say is "No". Saying "No" is still pretty hard, but not near as hard as saying "Yes" and not being able to pull it off.

Simple Pleasures

Graymama over at The Beauty of Gray posted some pictures of her beautiful son in the kitchen. Today I was back in the boxes of rememberings and found these of a little girl, probably close to 50 years ago, enjoying what might have been cookie dough equally as much. Truly it's the simple pleasures that count.





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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
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7. A habit I picked up during my early years was: smoking. I don't know this to be sure, but I do know that as I move through the boxes of old rememberings one thing that seems to stand out is that many of the pictures of my day and I include a cigarette. I remember him smoking Pall Mall cigarettes with no filter. I don't think people knew about the damage smoking could do back in the day. I know that in the early seventies my dad had open heart surgery and by 1974, at the age of 54, 13 days before his 55th birthday, he was dead. I was 18. I also know that I started smoking when I was in high school and I smoked off and on until my daughter's 26th birthday in 2004. This was what she asked and it made sense to me. Probably not soon enough for me, but at least her children may have a chance to grow up smoke free.

Saturday's Leftovers

Feed your mind
with thought-provoking,
mind-stimulating questions…

visit Friday's Feast:
a buffet for your brain.


Appetizer
Which television shows do you just refuse to miss?
There are no television shows I refuse to miss. The shows I enjoy watching are the original CSI, Criminal Minds and Numbers, and shows that are similar. I do not watch sitcoms or reality shows, so that pretty much narrows it down these days. If I know there is a good Austin City Limits, I would probably make a concerted effort to be front and center. Other than that, I'm not really tied to to the tv much. I will, however, be watching football this Sunday!

Soup
Who did you last speak to on the telephone?
The last person I spoke to on the phone was Willi. We try to coordinate our dinner after work but before getting home in case someone (usually Willi) has to make a stop. Last evening he called somewhere between work, Walgreens and the Smoke Shop.

Salad
How many pillows do you keep on your bed?
There are six pillows on our bed, except for at night time when it varies between five and six.

Main Course
Name one addition to your computer (software, hardware, etc.) that you'd love to have.
I'm pretty happy with the one I have. But now I kind of would like a laptop so I wouldn't be confined to this room when I want to puter. Well, it would be nice anyway.

Dessert
What is your favorite foreign food?
Well, to be honest, I cannot think of one that I favor over others. I like to eat and I'm generally not too picky. These days I tend to stay away from particular food ingredients that don't like me much, like red sauce. But other than that, bring it on!
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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
This may take awhile...
join us if you like.


6. This is how we usually ate dinner as a family: My mother was a stickler about this. On weekdays dinner would be ready to serve when my father walked in the back door from work. We always ate at the table, which was covered with a cloth. We took turns saying table grace which ended with "Bless the hands that prepared it". Meals were served from serving dishes which were passed around the table, even though we could have all reached them in the center of the table. There was usually a salad of some kind, the entree, bread and butter and some kind of dessert. Sometimes the salad and dessert would be one and the same, like Waldorf Salad.

We could not get up from the table without asking to be excused, which usually didn't happen until everyone was finished eating. We were expected to clean our plates because there were starving children someplace far away. I never really bought this idea. After all, if I didn't like rubber band steak, why would they? And if they wanted it, I would have been more than willing to oblige. Although I never shared that with my mom. Heaven forbid. There were a few memorable occasions when my brother or I sat solo with warm milk and cold food, but for the most part dinner was a happy time with great eats and a chance to talk about our day.

Dare to Breathe Deep

Susan over at A Slice of Life, in this post, Double Dog Dared me to create a "theme" for the new year; something realistic and do-able, and better than a resolution. It sounded like a good idea; "choose a little theme and apply it to all aspects of my life."

Great thought has been given to this topic. In fact I have thought about it so much that it is closer to February than December! Sometimes it happens that way. If I am not careful, I tend to musterbate and awfulize until things are deep, dark and gooey. When channeled in a positive way, some would call this "strategic thinking" and consider it a strength. For me this has to be a conscious effort and it starts by stopping long enough to breathe. Most times I can think my way out of the paper sack, as long as I stop and breathe.

So, it will be my theme for 2007 to go slow enough so I can see the abyss before I fall in; to stop short and Dare to Breathe Deep.

Here's to mole hills, lemonade and glasses that are half full!
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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
This may take awhile...
join us if you like.


5. I remember getting in trouble with my parents on this occasion: I don't remember getting in a whole lot of trouble, particularly with both of my parents at the same time. Most times when I got in trouble the punishment was self-imposed. Come to think of it, that is probably why I tend to over-analyze and beat myself up over things. Guilt is a very interesting thing. At any rate, this is another time when I got in trouble but nary a word was uttered by my parents.

Buffy was my friend during junior high. Our friendship only lasted a few short years. She grew up much faster than me. I wanted to be like her so badly. She lived across the street with her mom and three sisters, two older and one younger, and had a lot more freedom than I did. Among other things, her mom would let her walk to and from school. My mom said I had to ride the bus; come hell or high water. We had this discussion many times.

One bright and sunny spring day I decided that I, too, would walk to school...even if it was by myself. I planned and plotted and made sure I had some fresh batteries for my transistor radio. Remember, times were much simpler back in the day. I left for the bus stop and kept right on walking. It was so cool. I had my tunes and I was walking to school; out of the subdivision, down Broadway, right on 73rd Avenue. Almost to Catherine Street, I felt the presence of a car coming from behind. No problemo. I would just move over a bit. There it was to my left and slightly behind me, just chugging along, not in any hurry to be on its way. Finally I stopped in my tracks and looked over my shoulder just in time to see my mom watching me through the passenger window as she drove right on by. I worried about it all day long, period after period, and all the way home on the bus. My mom gave me "the silent treatment" when I got home, which was far worse than anything she could have said or done, or anything I would have done to myself for that matter.

As I think back on some of the really stupid things I did growing up, I realize how fortunate I am to have come through unscathed. Often times I thought my parents had no clue, but now I wonder if they weren't following behind me all the time, watching out the passenger side window.

Yahtzee meets Craps

There's an awful lot to be said for sitting around a table playing games. Over the holidays Willi and I had the occasion to play some games with his mom and children. It was great fun, but more importantly it bridged the gap between the generations, and also the miles that keep us apart for most of the year. Talk became easy and meaningful, and family ties were strengthened once again.

Willi's mom brought a cool game with her from Texas and we all learned how to play. You may have played it yourself. It's called Farkle and has been described as a cross between Yahtzee and Craps. There are as many sets of rules as there are stories of the game's origin. The most interesting story I have found was that it began with the Farkleberry Tree. Yep, there really is such a thing. Supposedly early settlers coming to Texas carved hardened berries from the Farkleberry Tree into dice, thus the name of the game. You need six dice, paper and a pencil to keep score. As many can play as can fit around the table, or you can play with teams. Here are some rules to get you started, but if you Google the game you will find many variations.

Although table games were not a big part of my growing up, Willi shares tales about learning to count by playing Dominoes with his grandad. The more memorable part was the banter between a boy and his grandfather as they drew playing pieces from "the boneyard". Back in the day, I learned some pretty important life lessons playing outside with my friends. In a day and age where technology tends to encourage a somewhat solitary existence, it feels good just to turn everything off, throw some dice, and visit.

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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
This may take awhile...
join us if you like.


4. If, growing up, I had any trouble with my dad, it was in this area: I honestly don't ever remember having trouble with my dad except for one time when I was in junior high. My mom and dad were both working by then, leaving me home alone until they got in. Of course the rule was that there were no boys allowed. None. Not even on the front porch. Zip, zilch, zero. How silly was that rule? So, whilst baking cookies one afternoon in the kitchen, I visited with my friend Dale as he sat at the kitchen table. To help you visualize the predicament we found ourselves in; the kitchen, dining room, living room and hallway are laid out in a circle with a wall in the middle. You can walk from the kitchen to the dining room, then through the living room and hall, right back around into the kitchen. I thought I had the timing pretty well down, but alas my dad got home earlier than expected. He came up the stairs into the hall just quick enough to see Dale step into the dining room. It looked like a scene from a Marx Brothers movie! As he headed for the dining room, Dale came back around the other way and headed down the stairs and out the door. You know my dad never said a word to me. And I never had a boy in the house again without permission. He was so disappointed in me, but not as much as I was in myself.

As a side note, Dale gave me my very first kiss. It happened when we were ice skating on the creek behind the house. We were just kids and it was just a sweet little peck. I will have to post sometime about Dale and the neighborhood kids. What a lot of fun we had growing up.

WWC: A Mystery Unfolds

Courtesy of Odd Mix, the words are Mystery and Missing.

Willi and I found the neatest place to spend an afternoon during our last trip to Louisville. Walking through the maze of rooms at Architectural Salvage is like unlocking a mystery, one step at a time.

Everything from drawer pulls and drawers to door knobs, door hinges, and even doors was lined up by size, shape, style and color.

There were light fixtures, lamps, chandelier, candelabra and candle holders; things to light them with and things to put them out.

The only limit to what you might find is really the amount of time you can spend looking.

Although help was there for the asking, the fun was definitely in the hunt.

After winding around through the many rooms and floors we found that the mystery continued on through the house next door...

...out through the back, down the stairs and onto the lawn where you would find all sorts of ornaments, benches, fountains and faldera.

So next time you're in Louisville, time and inclination permitting, here is a great place to look for adventure and treasure.

I can't think of anything that was missing; not even the kitchen sink!
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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
This may take awhile...
join us if you like.


3. One of dad's traits I admired was: that he found joy in the little things. My rememberings are of a man who really had a pretty good outlook despite some pretty serious health issues. I don't really remember him being idle very much; he usually had either a tool or fishing rod in his hand. Doing things that others may have considered chores made him happy. I also remember that he liked coming home from work. Each evening at 5:30 he would come in the back door and whistle the same four notes. You could set the clock by it. So much so, that my mom could have dinner on the table as he walked up the stairs. Now that is a pleasant remembering that I had forgotten about.

It's a wrap...

We've said so-long to 2006 and packed away Christmas. Tomorrow is a workday; just three this week. And that's a good thing. I've been staring at this computer for well over an hour now, and I still got nuthin. So here are some random thoughts...

The winner in the gift department this year came from Willi's secretary. And what a winner it was! Everyone that came through the door had to try the Marshmallow Shooter. And what happens to the spent ammo? Just ask the dog! Cali was the unexpected beneficiary of the gift that kept on giving. Wish that we could replace all of the deadly ammunitions with marshmallows...

According to the Associated Press, on New Year's Eve the death of Texas soldier Army Spc. Dustin R. Donica, 22, raised the number of U.S. military deaths in Iraq to at least 3,000 since March of 2003. In November when I made this post, the number was 2820. December has been the deadliest month of the last twelve. The A.P. article went on to say that the Bush administration is seeking to "overhaul its strategy for a unpopular conflict that shows little sign of abating." Overhaul indeed.

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Sometime over the holiday this opinion piece about Hillary Clinton, by Dick Morris and Eileen McGann entitled "Hillary's New Strategy: The Mom President" ran in our local paper. To summarize: because of her initial support of the war in Iraq she now finds herself backpeddling for voters, and what better way than to play the "mom card".

In today's Post Tribune, this article ran about Indiana Senator Anita Bowser. At 86 years old, this Democrat from Michigan City is heading back to begin her 27th year in Indianapolis. According to the article, "Her peers call her the conscience of the Indiana Senate." She's a pretty tough old bird and I like her. Hillary pales in contrast. Am I asking too much?

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This is my new favorite children's book. I told you these were random thoughts.

Is There Really a Human Race? by Jamie Lee Curtis and Laura Cornell. I bought it for the third time today. It begins with questions about the race; when will it start? In the end we learn that it is the journey and what we do while we are on it that is important. My favorite passage is, "So, take what's inside you and make big, bold choices. And for those who can't speak for themselves, use bold voices."

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Here is to 2007. I resolve that Father Christmas next finds us at peace and with goodwill toward our brothers.

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In a Nutshell

A place set aside to answer
201 autobiographical questions
from a mother for her daughter.
This may take awhile...
join us if you like.


2. If I had any trouble with mom growing up, it was in this area: My mom was 40 when I was born. I hit puberty just about the same time she hit menopause. She was driven to perfection and I was tinkering with non-compliance. We were a train wreck waiting to happen. Need I say more?