H-E-L-L-N-O

A Million Picnics...One of the things we did as the main entertainment in our family was go on weekend day trips using the Hondas. We scoured and traipsed through every corner of Indiana. We visited springs, dams, State parks and of course, roadside picnic areas. We often had 2 or 3 other families with us, riding their Honda Trail 90's as well. And always a picnic lunch as part of the deal!

Ordinarily I would not be posting on a Saturday, as I hope to do Monday through Friday posts and give myself a rest on the weekends, but yesterday was so full of activities I never had a moment to post anything!

For Starters, I got up at the crack of dawn and headed out on my gas-saving route to get every single thing done I wanted to do. But of course was foiled by the fact that the stores I wanted to visit did not open until 10 am! In my world, the day is half over and it's time for a NAP by 10 am!

I was able eventually, though, to hit all the thrift stores I wanted and the bank and to get to Walmart and buy castor oil for my face (going to try the oil cleansing method for a while to see if it works on this post menopausal dry skin I've got) and while I was there I was able to find the CHOCOLATE COLORED NAIL POLISH I've been wanting since I had a pedicure months ago and that was the color they picked for me.

I always let the manicurists pick the colors for me. I figure it perks up their world.

I had a blast at the thrift stores. I found some very cute tops at St. Vincent De Paul although they are very scant on linens and things they have beautiful furniture and their clothing is organized very well.

Deseret Industries is always so crowded it's a challenge to shop there. They, too, are organized to the hilt and it's like shopping at a REAL store the way they have the clothing marked and on racks by size and color, but their furniture department is NASTY. I guess those Mormons just don't get rid of furniture until it is covered in 3 layers of grime and old grape jelly. There is a chair there I particularly want but every time I go back to look at it the task of cleaning it seems too daunting so I leave without the chair.

The neighbor here at Gulag Acres flaked on me. He was giving me a loveseat from a set he had in storage. Turns out he didn't really OWN the set someone else did and they sold it this week. At least that is the story. So no loveseat for me, at least not this week.

I shopped and ran errands for HOURS and HOURS and was rather surprised that the phone never rang the entire time. I was waiting with half an ear peeled for work to call me with a fill-in assignment. When I got home later I realized WHY the phone had not been ringing: It had gotten shut off in the bottom of my purse.

Oops.

Although I missed a couple of work calls I did manage to get it turned on in time to get text messages from all and sundry including a last minute invitation to go to a First Friday Library Event with Sacramento Geeks Meet Up Group. It was a Bollywood movie showing, with snacks and a free dance lesson and HENNA TATTOOS!

I dragged out all my Indian salwar suits only to discover they shrank by 2 or 3 sizes at least since the last time I wore them, so had to make do with stretch jeans and a gauze Indian shirt with scratchy gold thread. I spent the whole night itching! But it was sooo worth it!

I love libraries! I love librarians! These ladies have come up with the most amazing programs. Next month it will be an adult spelling bee! Of course when the librarian asked me if I would be attending I faced her squarely and spelled out H-E-L-L-N-O! and she laughed and laughed.

This Bollywood event was so fun. About 30 or 40 people showed up, and almost all the ladies were decked to the nines in Indian clothing. We got there late so we missed the Indian Dancing tutorial, and also that put my name at almost the bottom of the list for the free Henna painting. I was a nervous wreck because the woman told me she was only staying until 8:30 as that was all they had paid her for.

The movie was just a riot because it was very madcap and silly. It had the obligatory opening song in less than 3 minutes into the movie, and all the loving chase scenes were in slow-mo, just as they should be. Of course it ended badly for the main character, and that's always a plus.

There were 4 or more little Indian pastry/fudge type snacks that tasted heavily of ghee and cardamom so I was in hog heaven. They even had 4 different kinds of Chai! I thought that was so cute! Big pitchers of chai marked: 1% milk, 2% milk, Soy Milk and Almond Milk. Needless to say the Almond Milk Chai flew off the proverbial shelves but the 1% stuff was still untouched by the end of the event.

At 8:25 there were still 4 people ahead of me in the henna tattoo line and they were taking their sweet time about picking their designs. I must have looked like the most crestfallen puppy when she started to pack up her things because she called me over and told me to slap my hand down on the table and she did THIS:

It goes VERY well with my new chocolate nail polish.

And Now a Word About Kitchen Utensils

A million picnics: this one a breakast picnic with our Gramma. I love it that Mom is wearing earrings with her seersucker short set.

Has anybody but me noticed how disgusting modern kitchen utensils have become? They are such THICK plastic and it seems the designers have chosen form over function.

Cushioned handles? Really? Like I'm going to be stirring that microwaved egg roll to the point where I need an ergonomically designed spatula handle lest the carpal tunnel monster strikes me down?

Many years ago I bought a 'new' potato masher. It looked so fancy. It must surely be the Apex of all potato mashing technology. Built upon the skeletons of all those old, less worthy, less functional potato mashers, it was bound to do the job in half the time and make me look good while I mashed the night away. Plus I seem to recall it cost the better part of a ten dollar bill so that HAD to mean it was top of the line!

But No. What it had was teensy weensy little holes in the black plastic that got stuck full of potato-being and could not be washed out. So I had to take a chopstick (from the microwaved eggroll no doubt) each and every time and poke out the coagulated remains of the mashed potatoes.

The result is that I just stopped using the thing and started mashing my potatoes with a fork. And thus, the cluttered kitchen utensil drawer is born.

Since my big, downsized move to new digs in the Gulag, I've weeded out all things useless and extra. But I had not yet managed to replace my potato masher because, well, like the swing-away can opener that has dissapeared from existence and been replaced with cheap Chinese junk, the traditional potato masher is impossible to find! They just don't sell them anymore!

After my dental appointment I decided to drift around through a few of the thrift stores on my route. I was mostly looking for gigantic ugly fat girl clothes with stains and rips everywhere so that I could replenish my wardrobe (why branch out into whole clothing? Stick with what works.) but I did want to see if there were any easy chairs for sale because this apartment is bare and there is nowhere for anyone to sit.

I had no success in those arenas but then I tooled down the kitchen goods aisle and there, pointing at me like a morning star with a message, was a bright shiny heavy metal and white plastic POTATO MASHER!

I kid you not it was sticking right out of the pile! It wanted to come home with me, the poor orphan! And it was only 50 CENTS!

There it is, in black and white.

And because I live at Gulag Acres it will be easy to dispose of the old one. All I have to do is take it down to the big table in the main laundry room and leave it there. It will be gone in 15 minutes! I know the Russians could not resist an upscale potato masher!

SCORE!!

Today, the neighbor of the lady I care for asked me if I'd like a box of fabric. Since I had just mentioned to God the other day that I would like some more fabric, I of course said a resounding YES.

I didn't even ask what I was being given.

When I got there, I was handed a huge box from a sweet smelling old cedar chest. The box was fully loaded with FEED SACKS! Beautiful, woven, 30's and 40's print feed sacks! Some still put together as bags and not opened out yet.

Most of you know that in the olden days before plastic wrap and such, flour, salt, wheat,--whatever--came in cloth sacks. Someone got the bright idea to make that fabric be printed fabric and farm wives all across the nation rejoiced.

It is quite collectible and also still quite usable. This batch I just got is in primo condition and doesn't even smell dusty. The colors are as bright as when it was brand new and full of chicken feed!

When I brought it home I took it out piece by piece and looked it over and refolded it.

In the bottom of the box was a fragment of a very old apron! SCORE!



Poor Nelly!

I had planned on getting up early this morning and going to the farmer’s market and having a quiet morning. But alas it was not to be, because I overslept by several hours due to lack of a good night’s sleep the night before.


Last night at 3:15am I heard a commotion in the parking lot of the church. It woke me up but it didn’t sound dangerous so I tried to go back to sleep. But soon I realized I had to get up and check out the scene: I heard women screeching and one of them said, ‘put away that knife!’ so I thought I’d better drag myself over to the window.

Well, the upshot of the deal is that either some guy was trying to rob another guy and these two women intervened, or it was just a drunken knife fight, but by the time I got to the window, somehow one of the women had gotten a face full of pepper spray and was flat out on the ground and the two would-be assailants had high-tailed it out of there to finish their scuffle in peace and quiet and a little privacy.


That left Miss Eggplant (wearing a shimmering purple eggplant dress) who was big and had wild big hair and a loud aggressive voice and a commanding personality, down on the ground rocking and screaming and barking orders at the poor stunned Miss Nelly, who was dressed in what I would swear was hooker garb except they were in the church parking lot so maybe it was just a dress- up evangelical occasion, flailing about gasping for air and in a lot of pepper-spray pain.

There were lots of bystanders trying to help, but Miss Eggplant was running the show. “KEEP BREATHING, NELLY!” she would scream and rock this woman until she must have been addled from the shaking. She forced Miss Nelly to take a hit from her asthma pipe or whatever those things are called—inhaler, that’s it—which then caused Miss Nelly to go totally unconscious or else slip into a fit, I’m not sure, because then Miss Eggplant was screaming, “She’s stopped Breathing! She’s going into Convulsions!” all the while bossing everyone around telling them to call 911, etc;


Pretty soon here came the fireman with their giant truck a-blazin’ lights and diesel fuel, and you could see they washed her face down and then told her she wasn’t having an asthma attack, it was just a little pepper spray and she was going to be all right.

They asked Miss Eggplant to let go of Nelly so they could check her over and Miss Eggplant refused. So they had to fix up Nelly while Eggy was screeching and bossing and commanding the show. At one point she said, “She is signing to you in sign language! It’s because that’s all she knows right now! She can’t talk because of the pepper spray!”

I don’t know, that just made me laugh. It would take a Miss Eggplant to interpret helpless waiving gestures as SIGN LANGUAGE.

I tell you what, I think it was her pepper spray, if you ask me. Nobody asked them any of those kinds of questions but I would bet money on it.

Poor Nelly! Here comes the cops and they took Eggy aside and I could rather hear her talking about a knife and some pepper spray and her asthma inhaler but just at that time a car came tearing up onto Capitol Avenue and out of the driver side jumped a GIANT GRIZZLY BEAR of a man dressed all in white like a plantation owner, or possibly a summer pimp, and it appears that he is married to poor Nelly, because he’s suddenly screaming and wailing, “How did this happen? How did this happen? My Wife! My Wife!” and yet he never got anywhere near her, he just stomped and paced around the giant parking lot Flinging his arms wide in those aggressive/fear gestures you see people do who are under extreme emotion and want you out of their body space.

The police told him to park his car properly, and he did, but then he came right back out again and started rampaging around the parking lot repeating, “how did this happen? How did this happen?”

Meanwhile, Miss Eggplant has told her tale to the cops, the fireman have bundled poor Nelly into the back of Eggy’s car and just LEFT her there, and they all gathered around at the far end of the parking lot and proceeded to laugh and exchange war stories. This went on for at least 15 minutes before they all departed, along with the cops. I wanted to call down to the cops at that point that they might want to try to rein in the emotional Giant Husband but I decided to just keep out of it.

So now, act III: We’ve got poor Nell passed out or just stunned and silent in the backseat of the car with nobody around to hold her or comfort her, we’ve got her husband flailing around violently and stomping up and down freaking out, we’ve got Miss Eggplant now trying to corral him by telling him to go to his wife and hold her.

He was having no part of that suggestion, though! He enacted quite a fierce drama for at least another 15 minutes until Miss Eggplant was able to prevail upon him to get in the back seat of her car and attend to his wife. He would go over to the car and look at her in the back seat and then fling himself away in sheer agony and stomp around the parking lot some more. It was so touching I wish I had a husband who would so thoroughly neglect me like that in a crisis!I just wished so heartily to hear the words, “WOE IS ME!!” come out of his tortured lips.

He finally decided he was going to drive off in his car, still saying “HOW did this HAPPEN???” but Miss Eggplant had determined otherwise. She dragged, cajoled, ordered, coerced and basically muscled the husband to get into her car so she could drive them all somewhere safe and sound.

So the dude gets into the front seat of the car! This will not do for Eggy! She DRAGS the husband by the arm OUT of the passenger seat and basically tries to fold him like a tortilla into her back seat.

Poor Nell, it seems, is sprawled out across the seat so there really isn’t room for the big giant Husband so they all start yelling at Nell to SHOVE OVER! MOVE OVER, NELL! And that poor half-sick, half-unconscious woman had to sit up and drag herself over in the seat so her husband could get in back with her.

There were two other church dudes there, small bit players who helped corral and contain the husband, and one of them offered to drive his car to their destination. But first we had to have the husband, still overcome by the reality of a maced spousal unit confronting him, get back OUT OF THE CAR and start pacing around and rampaging in the parking lot some more. Apparently his grief was too strong to be confined to the mere back seat of a car!

I was seriously praying for this to all end in a big Bang of dramatic Flair: perhaps the husband could throw himself down in front of the car and beg to be run over and put out of his misery? Perhaps he could start beating his head against the brick wall of the church until he bludgeoned himself unconscious? Perhaps Nell would snap out of it and pepper spray her husband to shut him up?


Finally, finally, the husband got into the back seat of the car, Miss Eggplant drove out of there and the extra dudes went in hubby’s car and all was quiet in the parking lot again.


And that was why I overslept because I sat up watching Live Theatre out my living room window on a Saturday night.

Thrift Store Finds!

I know that it's time for spring fever when I hit the thrift stores and come home with table napkins, bed linens and fabrics to make summer skirts!

The first thing was this awesome pink floral bedspread. I know, I know, it's no longer chic to be shabby, but I had to have it: the colors were so soft and muted and it just looked like a cottage summer to me. Okay, nothing else in the room matches, but that's just because I threw it on the bed really quickly so I could snap the picture.

Here is the close-up. AND! It only cost $2.99.

Here are the rest of my finds. SOME of these things were purchased with future birthday presents in mind. However, I love all of it too much to part with any of it, so I know that the intended recipients know that I love them SO much, I just had to keep these for myself because I know they would WANT me to have them, because they love ME so much.

Ha ha!

On the left is a set of perfect, pristine table napkins and one place mat with the Cost Plus sticker still on them; my favorite store. The place mat was .99 and the napkins were $1.99 for all 4.  Next is the awesome animal tea cozy pattern for a mere  27 cents. And behind it a gorgeous set of pillowcases soon to be made into a skirt for a friend. 25 cents!

Next a king sized pink sheet, brand new, for .99 which I will use for linings and such for various sewing projects.

You can never have too much pink. Pink is my sign! 

Next, a set of pillow shams in a rich upholstery fabric, very good quality for 69 cents for the pair. SCORE!  The deeper double pink fabric to the bottom right is another set of pillow cases, to be made into a skirt for me for 69 cents.

I also picked up this GIANT pillow sham in Hawaiian Fabric. I don't know what I will do with it, but the fabric is very good quality and who knows?

Maybe I'll make myself a muumuu.

Finally, when I got home from all this fun thrifting, I saw that the neighbors across the street were having a yard sale so I popped over there and picked up that butterscotch purse. It's real leather, still had the original paper wadding inside, and had never been used. The girl said she liked it in the store but there are always more purses to be had, so she was selling it. For $5.00! That's right five bucks! 

So my entire thrifting day cost me less than 10 bucks.

And I'm all lined up with sewing projects galore!

Flying Saucer Days

 

I was driving down the highway this morning when a plain white paper plate flew out of a wetback's truck and wafted past me on a freeway wind.

Last night Patrick had asked me down to the river to see this 90 foot boat that had come upriver to dock at Old Sac.  The pictures don't do it justice: it truly was a lovely ship! Very similar in look and feel to the one that Goldie Hawn has in the old movie Overboard.  White and large and needing a real crew to sail her.  And she came all the way from Bikini in the Marshall Islands.

 

 
 It gave me that sea-faring feeling...the one of longing to see the Southern Cross and to sleep out under an entirely different set of constellations in the middle of the ocean.

Right now for 5 bucks you can sponsor a rubber duck that will be tossed off the I street bridge with 5000 other rubber ducks and then somehow be scooped up once it reaches the Capitol Bridge, a few feet downriver from whence it started.  And if your duck gets there first, it wins a prize. All the proceeds go to fund something for the Special Olympics. 

 I was surprised they would let something like that happen, in this day and age. They would call it littering and a public nuisance and a bio-hazard if one of those little duckies escaped the nets and headed for the open waters of the Pacific. Neither Patrick nor I can see how they can guarantee that all those ducks will make it downriver. We fully expect the little inlets and docks along the way to have a stray rubber ducky or two floating in to land, beached and belly-up, with the tide.

I hope some of them escape. I hope at least one makes it all the way to Bikini, M. I. 

Today, with a severe headache and at absolutely zero on the energy scale, I saw that paper plate come flying past me and I remembered: 

I remember when you were allowed to toss bottles into oceans and throw rubber duckies into the cricks and rivers and set them free. 

I remember being a wee tot and being told that it was 'Flying Saucer Days' and what a BIG event that was! 

All the merchants of the town got together and put their names on paper plates with coupons for free things like ice cream and shoelaces. And at a certain time a local pilot would fly over the town and release all 5000 of them and we were allowed to run and chase them and pick them up and claim our prizes.

I'm pretty sure I won a free ice cream cone and maybe a buck or two, redeemable at the local bank.

For most of my childhood, at least, the sight of a paper plate windblown up against a barbed wire fence down some dirt road gave me a feeling of hope and expectation. Like finding an Easter Egg someone had forgotten about.

Nowadays, a paper plate is just a paper plate. But can you remember when...?

Wisdom of the Elderly

I've had this really, really irritating squeak in my dashboard for some time now. It's especially noticable on the freeway. That car--now 9 years old--has been a gem of stability, but it hasn't been holding up well lately.

Little things. Like the plastic casing around the seat belt broke off, and now I have to touch boiling hot bare metal in order to fasten my seat belt or release it.

I can't very well justify buying a brand new car just because of a little inconvenience like that, though. Even if it needs a new paint job, the windows don't roll down anymore, and it's started to get that little wet dust smell you find in really old cars.

The squeak, though, might just send me over the edge. I have to drive with one of my fingers pressing down on the dashboard, as that slight bit of compression seems to take care of it.

I was driving Miss Daisy somewhere this week, and she said that noise was just about the most annoying thing she'd ever heard.

"You know what I'd do to fix that?" she asked, "I'd wedge a piece of paper up in there and that will take care of it."

So I tried it and it DID!

Minor TV Personality

Well! I did it! I managed to make it through my TV appearance without saying or doing anything stupid! Whew! What a big relief!

It was pretty exciting to go to the Fox 40 studios. It's been about 45 years since I was in a television studio and obviously things have changed: we have computers now, and...electricity.

What surprised me is just how dark and silent the studio is while the news is being aired live. Everything is on monitors and on the laptops of the newscasters, and the rest of the room is dark and silent. The cameramen, editors, etc; all whisper and creep about in the dark. It was cool.

The kitchen was not in a separate room, but just along the back behind the anchors. So we had to creep in quietly and set up our display, etc; It became quickly apparent that there would be no way to pull my muffins out of the oven and make a big show of them being piping hot and all that so we just ditched that idea and set them on the table with the rest of the goodies.

The news is over at 8:55 in the morning and then we did our 5 minute segment and then basically those guys are done for the day! It's a Wrap! So they hung out with us and talked and ate our food, which I LOVED! My cousin M. Jean had been on TV once, featuring her hand-made antique boxes, and although the guy interviewing her for the piece ranted and raved during the segment, the moment it was over he took off his mike and booked...leaving her feeling a little bereft. She later wondered if he liked her items at all or if it was just for show!

There was no doubt about that in my case. We talked about food and family and care giving, AFTER the cameras had stopped rolling. It was so awesome!

The man who did the segment is Paul Robins...a very semi-famous local dude who was part of a morning radio team Phil and Paul in The Morning before coming to do the morning news on Fox 40 here in Sacramento.


He's a professional--at ease and in his element--but you don't get the impression that he's being professional, you get the impression that he's hanging out having a GREAT time and you should just hang out with him. It was so much fun!

Right before they filmed us, they brought us the mikes. I told them, 'Don't mike me! I don't want to have to talk!" Paul told me, "Don't be nervous!"

I responded with, "I'm not nervous! I just don't want to TALK! I'll screw up!"

Paul said, "Oh, if you've ever watched this show you'll know we are very good at screwing up! It happens all the time!"

My boss kept telling me, "Don't curse. Don't talk about the health care plan. Don't say I'm an idiot or a bad boss..." I told him, "OMIGOSH stop telling me what NOT to say! I'll IMPRINT on that and just blurt out everything all in one babbling tirade....

"These muffins are great how in the HELL can we justify how expensive this war is and yet not be willing to pay for health care for our own citizens my boss SUCKS and these muffins taste like SHIT and SHINOLA!"

You can see how FRAUGHT this was! Boss Man finally said, "Just relax and be yourself."

I looked at him with real pity, then. I patted him on the arm and in my most sincere, deadpan yet compassionate voice said, "No, Buck, that's exactly what you DON'T want me to be."

He took that in, shook his head in agreement and said, "I think you're right. You'd be up on this kitchen island SINGING and DANCING in the RAIN."

A Wrench in the Works

I'm so glad there is all this attention out there about the Beatles. I love the Beatles! I'd get that new Beatles Game in a heartbeat! If I had a heartbeat. Which I don't.

Because I'm a zombie. A Test Kitchen Zombie.

Here's what is happening with me:

I've been working 12 hour overnight shifts. Now, these are called 'sleeping shifts' meaning that I'm guaranteed 6-8 hours of sleep during that 12 hours. It pays a flat rate and is much, much less than my normal hourly wage, but if it works, it's like free money: money while you sleep.

Unless the person you are caring for rings her little bell every flappin' 20 minutes throughout the night wanting her hair brushed, her sheets straightened, help transferring to the potty, etc; Then it's like Night Hell. And then when the 12 hours are over and you have to go do your NORMAL work shift and your NORMAL daily activities, it becomes DAY HELL...all blended together into a sort of zombie fog.

An Example: My doorbell rang yesterday just as I lay down for what I thought might be some catch-up sleep. It was my neighbor and he asked me if I had a wrench he could borrow.

And I could not for the life of me figure out what he meant by a wrench. My mind conjured up NO picture, and NO symbols and no definition of that word. Floating in the distance was a vague awareness that it might be a tool of some kind.

That's just how tired I am. And last night was the same only less sleep so today I was just longing to crawl into bed and remain there for the entire day.

Except when I went to my car to drive home, it wouldn't start. Dead Battery. I had to call AAA and have them deliver and install a new one for me, thereby wiping out my entire life savings and all my petty cash.

Good Times.

I made it home at last, closed the door behind me and relaxed on the bed thinking...Ahhhhh...when the phone rang and it was the Big Boss reminding me that on Friday we are going to be on TV doing a cooking segment.

And would I mind whipping up a few recipes and getting together a presentation and all that before tomorrow morning?

He had a few ideas and some guidelines (this is food for seniors, after all, and thus needs to take into account special dietary needs like low sodium, etc;) and then with perfect confidance that I was the girl for the task, he hung up the phone leaving me a jibbering idiot of fear.

And thus I whipped up these totally imaginary, utterly delicious, thoroughly sleep-deprived Zombie Pecan Muffins.

Anyone living in the Sacramento Fox 40 broadcast area can see me, the writer behind Miss Pink Ponsonby's Swell Soiree, on Sept. 11th, Friday morning, 8:55 am on Fox 40.

It will be a 10 minute presentation, and I've begged my boss not to let them mike me. He can make me go but he can't make me talk! Because I'll start babbling about wrenches, I just KNOW it!

Brie? Brie? Brie? Brie? Brie? Brie? Brie? Brie?

At the River on Friday

Well, where have I been, you ask? Working, entertaining, working, sleeping, not-sleeping...

Last week I was given the treat of attending a local production of CATS with one of my ladies and her friends and family. Lots of pictures were taken but not by me, and although people always promise to post the pics or email them to you...they never seem to arrive! So until then, I'll hold off on writing a funny blog about that day!

This weekend I went with a fellow caregiver and 7 friends to the Elk Grove/Laguna Comedy Under the Stars Event. I haven't laughed that hard in years! The comics were great, of course, but the laughter came from the people we were with.

This event is held in the park where there is a nifty amphitheater. Everyone brings blankets or low beach chairs (no high-back lawn chairs allowed) and lots and lots to eat and drink. The lady, Bee, who had organized getting the tickets for us was the Hostess with the Mostest! We were sitting in a semi-circle around her copious cooler and she spent her time opening it and bringing out treat after treat. Wine, dessert wine, prosciutto, cheese, shrimp, more cheese...it was awesome and fun and so gourmet.

But the funny part is that even though all eyes were upon her like little trained circus dogs waiting to have a tidbit popped into our mouths, she would take out a food item and politely ask each and every single one of us along the row if we would like some. She never slacked off or varied in her delivery, either.

So the conversation would go like this:

Bee: Oh, Karla, you brought chocolate wine I'd love to try some of that! Shrimp? Shrimp? Shrimp? Shrimp? Shrimp? Shrimp? Shrimp? Shrimp?

Karla: Yes, I'd love some shrimp. The wine is boysenberry with chocolate undertones it's probably just a flashy gimmick to get you to buy it!

Bee: Well, I love chocolate but I don't like Merlot so I'm willing to try it just to see if it tastes like Merlot or chocolate. Brie anyone? Brie anyone? Brie anyone? Brie anyone? Brie anyone? Brie anyone? Brie anyone?

****
The show was from 8-10 but people gather to drink and eat by six o'clock, so everyone was pretty much smashed and in a rip-roaring mood by the time the comics started. Of course us ladies must make frequent trips to the powder room, and we have to travel in packs...and as usual there was a long line for the ladies room and none for the men's room.

A gentleman graciously offered to guard the door for us if a few of us wanted to go use the men's room and since we were next in line we trooped over there and used those facilities. We were laughing our heads off and not thinking a thing about it, but when we all exited the men's room there were about 15 men standing in line waiting! Looking pained! And hopping from foot to foot! I guess beer will do that to a fella.

As we joyously left their company there were many parting shots back and forth about 'now you know what it feels like' and 'guess you females wear the pants in your family!' etc;

Giggling in glee we raced back to our seats in time for the opening act, whose first salvo had us all screaming and cheering because he said, " What a Town, Elk Grove! Where the women use the men's bathroom!"

The Importance of Lying on Things

I don't know what it is...

It must be important...

It might be in his DNA...

But whatever it is...

Mackie HAS to lie on things.

Men Are Now Officially Obsolete

I'm pretty much dancing a jig over my new 1 GIG!

Having discovered that the only thing I really needed to do to my computer was update the RAM (I only had 512mb which back in the day was SO MUCH MEMORY) and I'd be good to go, I was elated! All this time I've been operating so slowly that it's been a real chore to get anything done.

Having discovered what it would cost me to have a Computer Guy put that RAM in my computer, I decided it would behoove me to do it myself. So I did!

I went and found the book that came with the computer and read the instructions.
I went online and found out the exact type of RAM I needed. (Rimms, Dimms, RD-Dimms, or what?)

I went to the Microsoft website and read up on how to install it.
I went to FRYE's and bought the RAM I needed, along with a $1.99 part called a watch battery that I thought I should probably replace after 9 years of using the original one that came with the computer!)
I installed the new RAM, and the new battery, and VIOLA!!!!

I am now the proud owner of one entire GIG of RAM, and also the proud owner of my own cojones!

Because, believe me, it's pretty scary staring into the dark bowels of my computer innards and trying to figure out which slot I'm supposed to click the new RAM card into! But when it comes right down to it, it's really quite, quite easy!

So, okay, maybe all men are not obsolete, but my need for a computer geek techie guy has expired!

And of course the need for my Main Man Mackie will never become obsolete: Look how cute he looks using the edge of the mirror as a pillow. How does he think these things up?

The Bride Wore Turquoise Earrings

I must be completely and utterly out of my mind! I've got about 1000 lbs. worth of stuff that's going into the yard sale and NOBODY to help me with it! How am I going to carry all of this downstairs? And then at the end of a long tired day, carry it all back up again?

I think I've officially gone 'round the bend.

I've still got to sort all this and make sure it's priced (if it needs pricing: I do the 'price section' method of garage saling: this pile one dollar, this pile 3 dollars, etc;) But lots of my 'better' wares deserves a better price and needs to be priced accordingly.


To escape the madness and the mayhem and the foolishness, I went to my favorite place: Trader Joe's. I like to get my little free cup of coffee laced with a whole packet of organic sugar and 1/2 and 1/2...and sample whatever goodies they are offering. Then I walk around with my cart and just enjoy the ambiance. Even the bathroom's are gorgeous. Much nicer than mine at home!

Yesterday, two of the employees had brought in their wedding album. They had recently gotten married. Everyone was standing around looking at it and being Verklempt.

I was so happy to see that the bride wore a very simple white dress, her hair in a French Updo with a short, white veil. Not a rhinestone in sight. No silver metallic threads. No beading. Just chiffon and satin and a simple bouquet.

Of course everyone is down on tiara's for brides these days, but I'm NEVER down on tiara's! Every girl should get to wear a crown at some point in her life whether it's to the academy awards, a beauty pageant or her own wedding. I actually wish they were in fashion and I could wear one to do my Trader Joe's shopping.

This simple, pretty bride, however, wore something much more unique! She wore silver and turquoise earrings. Old ones...from her Mexican family. Something Old, Something Borrowed, Something Blue.

Since I find weddings to be so full of meaningless pomp and ceremony (why DO they remove the garter? smash cake into each other's faces? It's weird! It has no meaning, isn't relevant, and I just think it's like a very bad stage play.) it is always nice to see someone use the traditions as a base but make their wedding personal.

Okay, enough about weddings!

At Trader Joe's, they give you a ticket if you use your own bags, and it goes into a magical tiki head bucket, and they draw out a name on a weekly basis, giving the winner a $25.00 gift card.

I've never won but I like to stage a fake winning. I like to fill in my name, get ready to drop my ticket in the bucket but then pull it back out again and say, "I WON I WON!". It always gets a laugh from the staff.

Yesterday, as I was filling out the ticket, one of the fellas came over to stand near me. He looked at me for a moment and then said, sotto voce, "We just throw those out, you know!"

I cracked up! I could tell he was sizing me up before he said anything scandalous and I told him, "I saw you check to see if I looked like I might have a sense of humor before you said anything!" I could tell he didn't want to piss off an old battle axe or a curmudgeon.

He was grinning from ear to ear because I was so delighted and he told me, "It's part of my job description to heckle the customers."

Grease Spot on the L&N

It was all yellow...

I’ve been uncomfortably and excruciatingly manic for the past week, every since I found out that the second half of my income is disappearing. Right now I’m down to 8 hours of work a week. That’s not much of a paycheck. It’s going to get worse before it gets better, since almost the entire month of July was short by half.

I’m gearing up for a massive yard sale this weekend. At least, that’s the plan. I’ve yanked stuff ruthlessly from corners, cupboards and closets, with the mentality of getting rid of as much as possible just in case I need to leave here in a hurry with nowhere to go.

I ask the question: If I was in a fire and had to grab something from this area to save, what would it be? And then I make myself purge the rest of the stuff.

But its exhausting and in a lot of ways, heartbreaking work. I am fond of my things. I am attached to the things that I’ve accumulated out of love and life. My things give me a lot of happiness on a daily basis. But I also realize that my life will be perfectly fine without STUFF. And I also realize I’ve got enough to go around: in other words, enough stuff to be gotten rid of and enough stuff to be kept.

That which is essential is invisible to the eye.

Yesterday, Obee, a fellow caregiver, asked me to go to her house and then to the Galt Flea Market. It’s held on a Tuesday so it’s kind of neat, as those things are always on weekends. It gives an extra day for the vendors to make money and for folks to shop instead of having to cram it all in on the weekends.

Of course, walking through the aisles in the blistering sun looking at giant tubs and bins of cheap plastic hair clips, tube socks and car parts, I just had to laugh: Here I am in the midst of getting rid of stuff and my idea of a good day is to go wander around the stalls and look for cheap shower shoes!

I bought a nice plum colored nail polish for a dollar. So that was fun.

Afterwards we ate at her house in her back garden surrounded by sunflowers and tomato plants. She sent me home jars of peach jam, strawberry preserves, fresh peaches the size of a baby's head and a sack of tomatoes. Ah, summer!

Last night at work I was explaining to Miss Biddy that she couldn't ride in the car with me: It's over 100 degrees out and it's a safety issue. My car has black interior, and she has no body weight at all. Dehydration could take effect within moments and I'd be driving a corpse around.

"It's even dangerous for me," I told her, "with all my body fat! I could fry like a turkey once my body fat heats up to boiling temperature! I could melt into nothing sitting right behind the steering wheel!"

She laughed, thought a moment and replied, "You'd be nothing but a grease spot on the L&N"

The Tweeny's Half Day

Back in the happy Golden Days of Yore, there was such a thing as a 'tweenie'. Which was a lowly housemaid somewhat between a scullery maid and a housemaid. They were usually employed by less affluent families who could not afford a full staff of servants...thus combining several jobs into the body of one poor girl.

Kind of like my job now!

Also, back in the day, servants--indeed employees of any kind--got ONE HALF DAY off work a month. Imagine working 30 and a half days in a row before getting a lousy half day off.

Hmm...kind of like my job now!




So what do you do with your half day off when you are a mere tweeny? Fix crepes, slather them in powdered sugar, chocolate drizzles and apricot preserves...and curl up with a good book about Lilibet and Margaret Rose Windsor, written by their governess Crawfie.

Here's an antique pinafore, made for a very tiny tweeny.

My New Motto

I actually had to save someone's life at work yesterday! My lady started to cough and belch and her lungs filled up with fluids and I was alone and had to call the hospice nurse to talk me through it. She had just been there earlier and we had talked about all the house plants they have.

One that she pointed out to me was an Angel-drop Begonia. Everyone loves begonias excepf for me becuase I think they look like if you touch them they will burn my hands off with molten acid and I'll be left with stumps. Orchids are the same thing: I think they look like they would like to trap me with their ropey roots and then slowly digest me over thousands of years.

I started to read a book that was on the shelf there. It's called "Angels in the Wilderness" by Amy Racina. It's about a woman who fell off a collapsing cliff while backpacking alone in the Sierras. She fell 60 feet onto granite and crushed her hips, knees, and her face. It's a real page turner! She had to try and drag or scoot herself to this stream where she could try and float somewhere that there would be people. The first day she only managed to move about 30 feet. It's a very spiritual book. Anyone reading it who does not want people to have universal health care is an inhuman monster. From the sounds of it, it was a FAR HARDER ordeal once she was rescued and in the hospital without insurance than it was to survive in the wilderness. She had to plead for toilet paper and the Accounting Department kept calling her and asking her how she intended to pay her $350,000.000 medical bill. AT that point she was still helpless in casts and fighting off serious life-threatening infections.

ANYWAY! As I was slowly trying to calm down and still keep an eye on my poor frail 105 year old, the doorbell rang and it was an unscheduled visit from a social worker. A very lovely girl she checked on my patient and then spent some time counceling me. I don't even know how she KNEW I was in trouble but she told me to remember to Wait on God.

She said it was Okay to slow down and let things happen. I showed her the Angel drop begonia and the book I was reading. Before she left, she gave me her card.

As I sat down to read some more, I looked at her card and saw that her name was ANGELIC Jones. Not Angela, or Angelique or Angeline. ANGELIC.

Thanks, God! That was pretty cool!

Much later as I was packing up my stuff to leave and end my shift, I saw the piece of paper I'd been doodling on during the time I was calling for help and back-up, etc;

I had written:

When in Doubt
FREAK OUT!



And that was my day with the Angels.

Mack Bag

Just an average bag on an average bed on an average morning...packing up some things to take to work.

But Wait...

Something moved! Who is that masked marauder?

It's Mackie in a Bag! Designed to go with you, wherever you roam! Near or far, by plane or car, no matter how desperate the times...there will be comfort and laughter with the new, compact, ultra-sleek Cat in a Bag!

*****

I've been given a series of new challenges, lately: namely, I've lost BOTH my main sources of income in the last month. Quite out of the blue. (Although when you do elderly care nothing is ever quite out of the blue.) In one case my daytime Miss E. had to go into convalescent care and now I've learned my evening Miss B. is going to give up her big house and move to an apartment near her daughter.

So I've been scrambling for work ideas and living options to lower my overhead...so that I can manage to KEEP an overhead. Roof, I mean. I'd like to avoid being homeless if possible!

The company I work for is great about placements, but right now? With this economy? People are taking care of their own Moms & Dads, because they can't afford to pay outside care.

Good thing all I really need is a Cat in a Bag and my tea things. I'll be fine. I hope you all are, as well!

Caption Contest

For lack of anything to say, and because I have nothing better to do, I'm holding another caption contest. This time, I'm only awarding ONE prize. You don't get a prize just for entering, Aunt Bevo! Just write your entry in the comments section and I'll pick a winner after a day or so.

All prizes are from my clutter around the house! Who knows if it will be a treasure or trash?

Got Rhinestones?

Well, what can I say? I thought this morning I'd dig out a pair of white garden gloves and glue some rhinestones on one of them and wear it around today, just to see what kind of response I would get.



Much like the time I carried Grey Poupon Mustard on my dashboard. I got lots of laughs out of that trick!



But then I saw that I'm a quart low on rhinestones and it was going to be too much effort, anyway. I've got better things to do with my time than rile up the public.



Not that they need riling! Good heavens it's like somebody famous has died or something!





If people make such a fuss over this has-been drugged out pedophile, imagine what kind of outcry there will be when Elvis dies!

Setting aside sarcasm for a moment, I do just want to say...that back in the day...there was nobody like Michael Jackson! We were all moths to that flame! At least, we were moths to the New Flame of MTV, and it was Michael's videos we were seeing! Off the Wall was a great album, but when Thriller came out, and there was Michael reclining on the cover in that white suit, our little girlie hormones sat up and took notice. This guy had gotten HANDSOME!

Must have been that nose job... So glad he knew enough to leave well enough alone and never did any plastic surgery after that first little nose refinement!

I even owned, for a brief period of time, a red leather Michael Jackson jacket.

But that was long ago. My rhinestone glove has been at the bottom of a landfill for at least 25 years, I'd say! So I won't be wearing it today.

Feel free to copy my idea, though! Wear the Glove! Moonwalk on Main street!

But I thought of it first!

Summer Fever

Everyone knows what spring fever feels like. You get antsy and you want to do a deep cleaning. You want to open the windows and get out the cushions to the lawn furniture. You want to take a trip somewhere, head for summer pastures, plant the garden. You want activity. You want growth.

But summer fever is something else entirely. You want to put your feet up, preferably on the front porch. You want your feet dangling in water, off the end of the pier or the side of the boat.

You want the laundry done already, snapping in the breeze on the clothesline out back. You want that cold glass of sticky lemonade or sweet tea and you want to rub it on your forehead or neck. You want the smell of sweet corn in the fields, almost ready for pickin'.

You want the mixture of Sun-In on your hair and coconut tanning oil to be your perfume.

You want lake water in your nose.

I've got summer fever, BAD, today. REAL BAD.