Light bulbs and more...

Light bulbs. Pretty simple right? Yeah, you would think so but...not so much. Do you have ANY idea how many options there are for light bulbs? I bought 2 lamps today. Took me about 15 minutes to find the lamps that I wanted and then it took me 35 MINUTES to find the light bulbs. There are regular (incandescent) bulbs (I think they might be illegal now except for Texas where we don't put up with bullshit regulations for light bulbs), CFL's, and LED's. I won't go into the description for these - you can look that crazy business up and I don't understand it anyway but let me just say that the top of the line light bulb costs WAY more than the plain old light bulb. Want bright light, soft light,warm light, Bud lite, daylight? I finally gave in and bought one LED and one CFL (even though they apparently have boron, mercury, krypton, are radioactive and a fire hazard,and can cause electromagnetic interference I live on the edge.) The LED says it should last 22.8 years. You know what, I'm keeping my receipt.

The light bulb aisle

Q: How many Methodists does it take to change a light bulb? 

A: We choose not to make a statement of either in favour of or against the need for a light bulb however, if in your own journey you have found that a light bulb works for you, that is fine. You are invited to write a poem or compose a modern dance about your personal relationship to your light bulb and present it next month at our annual light bulb Sunday service, in which we will explore a number of light bulb traditions, including incandescent, fluorescent, three-way,long-lived, and tinted; all of which are equally valid paths to luminescence through Jesus Christ.

Today I went through the drive thru at the bank. Typically choosing the drive thru indicates that you don't have time or don't want to enter the branch. It might mean that you are in a bit of a hurry. Today, I was in a bit of a hurry and needed some cash. My debit card expired so I knew the ATM wouldn't work thus the drive thru option. I sent the tube with my DL and expired card. I explain about the card expiring, she verifies my bona fides and then the following conversation ensues:

T: Would you like to come in and get a new card?
Me: No, I don't have time right now.
T: It only takes about 10 minutes.
Me: Sorry, maybe later.
T: Do you want to make an appointment?
Me: No.
T: Sometimes it gets busy and you have to wait.
Me: OK, but I don't have time right now, maybe later.
T: Do you live in a home?
Me: Excuse me?
T: A house, do you live in a house?
Me: Yes. (in my head I'm thinking WTH?)
T: Do you want to refinance your house?
Me: No.
T: How about remodeling? Do you want to come in and see about getting a home improvement loan?
Me: No. (in my head - well, I won't even tell you - I'm sure you can guess)
T: Our rates are very competitive.
Me: I'm sure they are. I just really only have time to get cash today (barely.)

I understand the art of the upsell but this wasn't a "do you want fries with that" kind of upsell. I was in the drive thru just wanting cash. Why in the hell are you asking me these ridiculous questions. I know it's not her fault. Some paper pusher in corporate thought this would be a great way to get people to refinance their homes and came up with a script that everyone had to go through before money could be dispensed. The ATM probably has extra prompts on it now asking the same questions. Sometimes stuff just doesn't make any sense at all. It does however explain why it takes so long to get through the drive thru these days!

The Case Against Mother Nature

Mother Nature does not exist and I have proof. Even as exceedingly awful as women can be to each other there is no way another woman could be as cruel as that of this mythical Mother Nature. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about.

Oh sure, laugh all you want you bitch.

From our early teens we bleed monthly. Many times never knowing when or where IT might strike. Remember those times when you could just go swimming and not worry about anything? Then, all of a sudden you get invited to a swim party and you sit on the side of the pool without getting in while boys in their innocence ask why you aren't swimming. You snap at them to mind their business because you now have mood swings and bloating. How about those visits to the school nurse? How about having to ask your male teachers if you can be excused? Fun times. Nope, there can't be a Mother Nature but I believe there might be a Mommy Dearest.

Years and years of bleeding monthly and then miraculously it stops! Ah, the sweet relief! You can go swimming all you want - except for now you don't look quite as cute in your bathing suit (unless it's brown but I digress.) Oh, but you aren't really off the hook yet - Mommy Dearest has more in store for you!

MENOPAUSE. OH MY GOOD GRACIOUS. GIVE ME THE BLEEDING BACK! HOT FLASHES. NIGHT SWEATS. YOU JUST THOUGHT YOU HAD MOOD SWINGS. WHY AM I YELLING? HOT FLASHES AND MOOD SWINGS - THAT'S WHY YOU MISERABLE,  HALITOSIS-INFESTED HEATHEN.

Menopause. One minute you are looking at a blade of grass and crying at the beauty of it and the next minute you're wondering if you can make a weapon out of it. Hot flashes. Can't even describe them - you have to experience them to know the suffering they cause. For example, right now I look like I just ran a 5K in August in TEXAS. I thought I was through with this crap. That's how Mommy Dearest does it. She tricks you into believing it's all over. You don't need no stinking hormones! Get off those meds. Then you might go months maybe years without any problems then - BAM! SHE'S BACK! And when she comes back she makes up for lost time. You can sit under a ceiling fan and have 2 other fans pointed directly at you and it won't matter you will still be sitting in a malodorous marinade of sweat. Take an ice cold shower. Sure, that works until you have to turn the water off and get out. Maybe a good nights sleep will help. Forget it. NIGHT SWEATS.

No, Mother Nature belongs in the same category as the tooth fairy and the Easter bunny. Mommy Dearest exists and boy do I have a score to settle with her. Where's that blade of grass spear I made?

Easter Parade

Easter means a lot of different things to people.

For some, it is the most spiritual time of year.
For others, it's one of few times they head to church.

For kids, there are myriad egg hunts.
For foodies, a hunt for a great brunch.

For big families, it's a time of rambunctious get-togethers.
For those who are alone, Easter can be a quiet time of reflection.

For little girls, it can mean a pretty new outfit to wear.
For traditionalists, it's Easter lilies in memory of lost loved ones.

For gardeners, it's spring; everything is fresh and life is new.
For fashionistas, the white shoes come out.

For retailers, another cha-ching in the candy aisle.
For the health-conscious, a minefield of artificial colors.

And so it is. Everyone celebrates (or doesn't) in his own way.

Growing up, Easter Sunday meant a trip to church, posing for pictures, and the backyard egg hunt. Sometimes there was also a hunt at our grandparents' country club (which I remember included plenty of those cellophane-wrapped pastel-colored candy eggs with white centers...thinking of them now makes my teeth hurt). I was probably at least 12 before I realized that the reason we kids stayed behind at church with Granny and Grandpa (while Mom and Dad raced home) was really so the Easter bunny had time to hide eggs, and not as much because our grandparents wanted to show us off to their friends.

I still have the 8mm films from many of our egg hunts, even more fun to watch when we ran them backwards and put all the eggs back in their places. I'm pretty sure we hunted hard-boiled eggs. I'm also thinking my mom was the only person who ate those -- Dad was allergic and as a consequence the rest of us believed these eggs were nearly poisonous. As part of the hunt, we always found a special basket just for each of us, and that's where the chocolate bunny and other goodies were stashed.

As a grown-up, I took over the Easter meal after inheriting Granny's dishes and a little box crammed with index cards on which were her hand-written recipes. While I don't always get out her good china, one thing I always make is a strawberry ice cream dessert that we had at her house. It's pink, sweet, and surprisingly easy to make. And since I've got the ring mold she always used -- and the flat spatula she always used to get the ice cream out of the ring mold -- I've got no excuse not to.

One day, I intend to experiment with the formula to figure out how to use fresh fruit, maybe add some blueberries, and possibly even freeze it in my little hand-cranked ice cream maker (I think it would have a different consistency that would be easier to eat).

Strawberry Ice Cream Dessert

• 10-oz frozen strawberries in syrup (I haven't been able to find 10-oz packages so I just use a whole 16-oz package these days)
• 1 pint sour cream (use the real thing)
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 tablespoon vanilla

Thaw the strawberries and break them up with a fork (Granny's instructions say to use an old-fashioned egg beater...but I don't have one!). You don't want whole berries since they get very hard when frozen. Stir in the sour cream, sugar and vanilla. Pour into ring mold (of course you can use any type of mold or dish you like!). Freeze.

In 2007, on Granny's china with homemade cookies.

Loosen ring by running a little warm water over the back side of it. Run a flat spatula around the edges and unmold onto a plate. Cut into slices and serve, garnished with fresh berries and mint leaves. We serve small slices with shortbread, sugar cookies, pound cake or cupcakes!

With coconut cupcakes in 2010.
My Dessert Boy loves it.

We'll have an egg hunt (plastic eggs instead of real ones -- I tried hiding real eggs one year and they boys refused to pick them up..."nothing good inside"). If it rains, either the kids and eggs get wet, or we do it in the house. I'm leaning toward getting wet. Easy for me to say...I'm not hunting. :)

Happy Easter!

2004 -- first Easter. Bunny feet!

 

2006 -- you did not see me eat this!

2013 -- big kids...and a lot of dandelions!

2009 -- bucketheads





Make the Best of It...

My Granny had a saying. Whenever things weren't going well, I remember her telling us we'd have to "make the best of it." She was always cheerful about it (although I don't know what she might have been thinking behind that optimistic exterior) and I figured it probably had something to do with having lived through the depression...a long-ago, faraway occasion that as a child I couldn't possibly comprehend.

Three weeks ago I had cause to adopt my grandmother's attitude when, after a difficult evening of burned-out light bulbs and broken Spinbrushes, I dumped a large load of wet clothes into the dryer and attempted to start it. I pushed start like I always do, and the dryer just stared at me after beeping and clicking a bit. No amount of coaxing could get it to tumble, not even a little. It had just successfully dried a load of jeans about 8 hours before. Ugh! I wanted to go to bed early and cry. I hung the wet clothes all over the tiny laundry room, and checked Sears' repair schedule. Conveniently, they could take a look in a week (which usually doesn't guarantee it would be fixed that day). I checked my calendar and knew it would be at least two weeks before I could spend a leisurely day waiting around the house for a repairman.

Desperate, I made the best of it and turned to facebook, hoping someone could recommend a super repair person they had found. What I got was a bunch of guys encouraging me to visit You Tube for repair instructions. So naturally I googled the problem and took apart the machine. Right...it sounds so easy until you're lying on the floor in a puddle of lint. Sadly, it wasn't the two most common problems (a fuse or a belt). But the good news is, I've got a much cleaner lint trap (which yielded 13 cents and a number of stray collar stays). Have you ever seen the interior of your lint trap? It's a little bit scary!

Deep breath. Make the best of it.

Knowing I had to do something about the growing mounds of dirty clothes (we had just returned from a spring break trip, and the family was still rudely changing their clothes daily), and knowing I didn't want to spend even 10 minutes in a Laundromat, I put on my errand hat and traveled to Home Depot for sturdy clothesline (and a few lightbulbs) and then to Target for a bunch of clothespins. Armed with that can-do attitude, I strung that clothesline all around the back porch and out into a tree. Knowing the washing machine still worked, I set about washing clothes and within an hour I had the back porch decorated with a load of men's and boy's underwear. This felt pretty good until I went to bring them in...and found that while they were dry, they were also a bit...how shall I say?...crunchy.

Making the best of it, I had an epiphany: So that's why people use liquid fabric softener.

Which explains why the second load (my underwear) came out softer. You see, I realized pretty quickly that hanging the little dryer sheets on the line wasn't going to help soften anything. So my friend google helped me find a recipe for homemade fabric softener. Did you know you can take all those little bottles of hotel hair conditioner, mix them with white vinegar, and make a perfectly good fabric softener? That's what you do when you're too lazy to go to the store, or when you're making the best of something.

Now that I'm in my 4th week of drying clothes outside, I've learned a few more things -- especially that laundry without a dryer is very weather-dependent.

• There are some days you just can't do the wash. This is both good (day off!) and bad (no way you'll have those jeans for tomorrow).
• It's important to watch not only the precipitation but also the humidity. I've had loads dry in 20 minutes when the wind is blowing and the humidity is zero. But on a humid day, trying to dry clothes is about as smart as fixing my hair.
• And the wind -- it can be such a help -- but you'd better have things clipped onto the line tightly, or that underwear will be flying across the yard!
• There's nothing that will get you to jump out of bed faster than leaving your laundry out overnight to finish drying...and then hearing a huge clap of thunder at 2am.
• On a nice day, hanging the wet stuff on the line is a great reason to spend some alone time outside (people scatter when I say it's time to put out the laundry). And later you get to go back out for more quiet time, to retrieve the dry clothes!
• When you grill with clothes on the line, sometimes you wear a smoky essence.

Turns out, most things dry just as well on the line as they do in the dryer, which I didn't expect. Cotton towels aren't as soft. Some shirts come out unwearable. But that's minor stuff. I've got an appointment for the repairman later this week. We'll see how bad the damage is. But at least we have a workaround -- and temps in the 80's in the forecast. Overall, this is WAY better than when the dishwasher was out for a month. Don't get me started on that!

In other appliance news, the front-loading washer (for which I've been very grateful since the dryer went on vacation) isn't perfect. When I innocently opened the door last week to run a load of clothes, it was like Niagara Falls in the laundry room. I am not kidding when I say water poured/gushed/cascaded out the front of the machine (the seal works great, incidentally, if you keep the door closed) and splashed onto the linoleum, obviously enjoying its sudden freedom. Fortunately, a basket of recently-line-dried towels was nearby and I could mop up pretty quickly. Making the best of it, I can say the floor in there is a bit cleaner now.

I can only imagine how amused my Granny might be if she could see how this appliance failure has affected me. After all, she used her dishwasher for storing pantry items (I can remember going there for dinner and having to hand-wash dishes because the dishwasher was filled with crackers and boxes of Chex). She had a dryer but rarely used it; her square pink bathtub always had clothes dripping into it. All I can figure is, growing up during the depression must make these bulky appliances seem pretty silly. 

I just snapped.

I think it is inevitable that one of these days Paul is going to get a call that I have been arrested and unfortunately he won't be all that surprised. Here are 2 scenarios that I can envision causing me some trouble.

I'm at Tom Thumb in the "express lane" and there is a woman with 4 children at the checkout counter with 22 items (yes, I will have time to count them.) She's just 2 over the limit so this won't really bother me that much. One of her children is in a carrier in the basket. Two are riding along in one of those carts that look so cool before you have kids and actually use one. Those carts are huge and they don't turn. Yes, they have wheels but they don't actually work. I found this out the first time I used one and took out an end cap filled with toilet paper. You have to back those things up and angle them in just such a way so you can "turn." After the first cart ride I realized that the kids could not go grocery shopping with me until they were 13 and couldn't fit in one because I was never going to use one of those things again. Back to the ladies kids, the last one was just standing there eating boogers and sticking his tongue out at me.

Getcha a good one!

Directly in front of me is a young man with his ball cap crooked and his pants way down below his butt crack. This is a "fashion" trend that has baffled me. It looks so ridiculous.

Meanwhile back at the register the lady realizes that each kid has a box of chocolate milk and some candy (great idea by the way - sugaring them up.) Well, the baby just has some of that baby food they can just suck straight out of the package. This means that she actually has 29 items and she is trying to get these items from the kids so she can pay for them. The kids don't want to hand over the goods so a polite conversation ensues where Mom tries to reason with the kids so they will gladly hand over their milk and candy. After 4 kids you would think she would realize that this doesn't work. This would never have happened with me. When I went grocery shopping with Mom and we bought some special treat I couldn't have it until I got home. If I fussed about it - guess what? It stayed on the shelf. So she continues to reason. She is finally able to wrest it from booger boy and since the kids all have the same thing the cashier smartly rings all of them up by using just what booger boy has. Then it happens. She says she has a coupon. Dear Lord let it already be in her hand. Nope. It's not. Booger boy is still sticking his tongue out at me and it takes all I have not to return the gesture (or teach him a new one.) She begins to dig in her ginormous purse/diaper bag. The baby begins to wail and the 2 kids in the cart from hell start to fight. Mean thoughts are running through my head. Couldn't she have shopped at night and had her husband watch the kids? Any friends or family that could stay with them? How about dropping them off at the fire station? I punish myself for these thoughts realizing I'm going to be on the bullet train to hell I try to calm myself and think good, Christian thoughts. I only have 3 items. One that I absolutely have to have - well 2 if you count Blue Bell as a must have and of course it is. If not for this I would just leave but I can't. She begins to empty the ginormous bag. Out comes Cheerios, diaper wipes, diapers, a dirty diaper, Kleenex, a peppermint covered in lint. The 2 kids in the cart fight over the mint. Mom in a sickening sweet voice says, "Now boys, you know we can't cut that mint in half so please stop arguing or you won't be able to play with your ecologically and politically correct toys when you get home." Give it to me, my stare alone could cut that thing in two. Out comes a hair brush that hasn't been cleaned in a while, french fries?, car keys both real and pretend. Finally, she finds the coupon. It's for 25 cents. Oh boy, it's triple coupon time so she just saved 75 cents! I would have given her a dollar just to get the hell out of my way! Booger boy sticks his tongue out at me again and I just couldn't help it, I just snapped. My last nerve was severed and I just snapped.

I tap the man in front of me on the shoulder and proceed to tell him how ridiculous he looks. I scream at him to turn his cap around and pull his pants up. He doesn't so right there in front of God and everybody I pull them down as I exclaim, "You are not a gangster, gangsters don't buy tampons, juicy fruit, and a loaf of bread!"

During my one phone call to Paul I say, "Darling I love you but I just snapped."

In this next scenario I'm already "in a mood" and I am driving on one of the major streets near my house - Belt Line Road. I have woken up in this mood and I'm not sure why. I'm a woman, it just happens sometimes. I'm in various stages of menopause. Just when I think the hot flashes and night sweats are over BAM! I'm hit again. So, this is probably the reason I'm "in a mood." Belt Line has been under construction for a long time. Just when you figure out which lane will be closed ahead they change it. I guess that's good because it means they are making progress. Still, it's inconvenient especially when jerk drivers don't let you over. So, here's how it goes. I see the first sign - ROAD WORK AHEAD. Then the next one, RIGHT LANE CLOSED. I make my way over to the left to get past the construction. Then I see END ROAD WORK. In about 2 miles I see the ROAD WORK AHEAD sign again and the next sign also says RIGHT LANE CLOSED except that it isn't. The orange pylons are just up on the side of the road but the lane isn't closed. So, I've just changed lanes for no reason. Then we see END ROAD WORK. The next sign, DETOUR AHEAD. Well, that's charming, except there isn't a detour. WTH? But, then it happens. I see ROAD WORK AHEAD and then the next sign is VARIOUS LANES CLOSED. What? WHAT THE HELL? Do they not have a schedule for these things? What do they do, get to the construction site and not know which lane they will be working on? Even if they are working on more than one lane they usually have that sticky thing they can put on the sign that says 2 right lanes closed ahead. Even if that is technically not correct it does give us a heads up on what lies ahead. I can clearly see that the right lane is closed so why isn't there a RIGHT LANE CLOSED sign up? That's it. I PARK MY CAR. I put my flashers on. I get out of my car and head over to the Flag man in my I'M IN VARIOUS STAGES OF MENOPAUSE shirt on and ask him what the problem is.(OK, I don't really have one of those shirts but maybe I should. It would be a good warning for people, especially Paul.) Did you run out of RIGHT LANE CLOSED signs? If you did, I just passed one that was a lie. Can't you go get that one? Have budget cuts caused you to not have enough signs? Is it possible for taxpayers to maybe sponsor a sign? Perhaps, this RIGHT LANE CLOSED sign brought to you by the Latham family? This isn't difficult. It's either going to be the LEFT, CENTER, OR RIGHT lane closed. At no time should VARIOUS lanes be closed. You damn well should know which ones you are going to close and I am not moving my car until you take that sign down and put up the correct one. People are probably honking and screaming at me but I'm too focused to hear or to care. It's possible I do hear a siren or two.

I get my one phone call and I place it to the City Manager. What can I say? I just snapped.

WHY?

I have a lot of unanswered questions and things that I don't understand. Loads and loads actually. Here are a few:

Why do dogs sniff other dogs butts? I know that there are animal behaviorists that study this and have given answers to this question but how do they really know? Unless they have died, asked God and come back to life they can't possibly know.  When I die the first question I have for God is not going to be why do dogs sniff other dogs butts.

Why roaches?  With all the people and all the really large animals on the Ark couldn't something or someone have stepped on them and how many rabbits were there after the 40 days? Did the animals that require water just swim along with the Ark? Fresh water or salt water? It should have made a difference.

Why do retailers put the price tags right on the seam where they are almost impossible to remove?

Why do retailers put the clothes for larger people at the bottom? Is that their way of telling us we need to workout?

Why do they make Spanx for small people? Is it to taunt those that really need them?

ZERO. It aggravates the hell out of me when shopping and I see size 0 on the tag. ZERO IS NOTHING. YOU CAN'T BE A ZERO - A ZERO IS WHAT WE USED TO CALL LOSERS. (Sorry to my one friend that is a size zero - I hate you.) Now, just to really piss me off they have size 00. WTH? You can't be a double nothing. Double 0 means you don't exist. Back in my skinny days I was a size 4. Four is something. Zero is nothing. I'm afraid to go into a Chico's because they have weird sizing. It's like 1-4. What does that mean? I don't want to ask what my size would convert to because they might tell me it is not possible to convert my current size so Chico's remains a mystery.

How about that damn yoga store? It is like Prince - a symbol not a name. I don't even know what you call it. How do they answer the phone? Do they just say Hello?

But one of my most burning questions is Why Alzheimers? It just isn't fair. My mom grew up in the depression and worked hard her whole life. She survived the death of 2 husbands. She survived the death of a son and the death of all her siblings. Her father was an alcoholic and so was her oldest brother. She was the most sarcastic person I knew (other than me.) Now she talks to my dead father and brother. Currently she resides in an assisted living facility on the memory care floor and that is living hell. I look at those poor people and think they were probably teachers, doctors, engineers, homemakers. Now look at them. Absolutely no quality of life. But I believe my mom still has a few good years left in her. She just has to get physically stronger so she can get around with her walker. She has to be able to get in and out of my car. Right now pain is holding her back. Some of the fog is lifting that clouded her mind initially.  She was losing her memory somewhat but when she got the urinary tract infection it completely scrambled her brain. I didn't know UTI's could do that. But then I have learned a lot since February 15th when Amelia and I found my mom on the floor of her apartment. She can't go back and live there anymore - it's not safe for her. She needs someone watching out for her 24/7.  I have found what I believe is the perfect setting for her. It's a group home and right now there is only one resident. She will get good care here and there won't be other residents screaming and crying and spitting on the floor.

I know there are several stages in the grieving process. I mourn for the loss of my mom's health. I grieve for her but also for me. I don't remember what all the stages are of grief but I know one of them is anger and I can assure you that is where I am now. I AM VERY, VERY ANGRY. I want my mom back. I'm tired already of being the adult and having to make all of these decisions. I want to ask my mom to make them. Dammit - I want my mom! She's there - but she's not.

WHY?

'Tis the Season...

...no, not football season. Sadly, not baseball season. Not any particular holiday season. And definitely not watermelon season, despite what's in the grocery store.

'Tis the season for political ads, endless polling, and vicious backstabbing.

I just thought I was sick of the mushy, tear-jerking Olympic-themed commercials. I was ready to throw something at the television every time that little girl started bragging about all the things her mom does (where is her mom, anyway...not in any of the pictures with the girl...but I digress). Determined to walk out if I saw another adorable home movie of future Olympians skiing/skating/sliding backwards. Looking for the "mute Bob Costas" button on my remote (until he got pink eye, then I felt bad about that). And don't get me started on the Sonic guys and their stupid pretzel dog...take that whichever way you like.

And then all of that was eclipsed by a sudden torrent of political ads. Everyone has his sleeves rolled up, looks eager to make sure he represents ME (I'm betting he doesn't) and takes credit for all kinds of stuff (last time I checked, one guy cannot pass a law). The attack ads are so ugly...enough to make me check the perpetrator (not the object of the ad) off my list before learning anything more about him. An awful lot of them are using God as a campaign partner, and how can we determine if their comments are genuine or just crafted to appeal to a specific voter demographic?

And now, in addition to interrupting figure skating, these people are calling me on the phone. Some call for themselves and others call on behalf of a very qualified buddy who is running for office. Some want me to push buttons even though they are talking to my answering machine, and I'm hearing them 8 hours later. It's like junk mail, with voices. This is an actual transcript (almost) of what was on my machine one day this week:

"You have eight new messages...

• Message 1. Pause. (booming, confident voice) HELLO! This is Bob Somebody, and I want to be your DELETE
• Message 2. (female computer voice, starting in the middle of a sentence) you will not vote, press 1. If you might vote, press 2. If you didn't know there was an election, press DELETE
• Message 3. (voice of school principal) Parents, this is just a reminder that DELETE (I have already gotten this call on my cell phone. Twice.)
• Message 4. (background noise from an overcrowded loud place, presumably a bustling campaign headquarters...people talking, but not to me) DELETE
• Message 5. Pause. (cheerful, pleasant woman) Do not be alarmed. Several recent break-ins in your neighborhood have prompted us to bring you this special DELETE
• Message 6. (man who sounds like he is wearing a tightly knotted tie) Good afternoon. I'm someone whose name sounds vaguely familiar, and this is not about me. My good friend Jim Guy is running for district judge and DELETE
• Message 7. (computerized voice of my city, which calls often with alerts) Kennedale residents, several streets will be closed today between 9am and 4pm for water main repairs. We apologize for any inconven DELETE (I am hearing this at 5:30)
• Message 8. (same female computer voice that called earlier, starting again in the middle of a sentence) take less than 60 seconds of your time. If you will not vote, press 1. If you might DELETE

End of messages."

Why, I wonder, do I even have this phone? No actual people have called it -- just computers or robots or phone systems. Most of the time when it rings and I'm home, I don't answer...especially when the caller ID reads "POLITICAL CALL." That one has called several times and, oddly, doesn't leave a message. Are they really surprised that I don't pick up? No, wait...it's a machine. Now if my caller ID said Jimmy Fallon was calling, that might get my attention.

Have you driven past an early voting place? Talk about ground clutter! The signs are so packed in that I couldn't read them if I tried. If I'm ever stopped long enough to read a few, I'm really just looking to see if anyone I used to go to school with -- or any facebook friend -- is running.

Back to the Olympics, I turn on the television and am stunned to see that young polar bears drink Coke. That can't be good. Nor can the soda machine that mysteriously operates in the middle of an otherwise pristine snowy landscape. And if I scream in that woods, will anyone hear me?

You Don't Have to Be Crazy - no actually you do...

I love watching the winter Olympics. Figure skating is my favorite event but there are several events that I like to watch. The problem with figure skating is the politics of it. The people that are favored coming in more often than not are the ones that win - unless they just totally face plant or they obviously stink it up. Even then sometimes it seems to go their way. Apparently it's a sport that you have to pay your dues before you can medal. Gone are the tame Dick Button days. Now the men do quadruple jumps and probably it won't be long before the first woman performs a quad.

Pairs skating is fun to watch but also terrifying. I don't know how you can trust someone enough to allow them to throw you through the air so you can turn 3 (sometimes 4) times in the air and then land without breaking your butt. Also the lifts - good grief. That girl has a long way to fall if she is dropped. Of course if she falls and is dropped on her head she can always compete in skeleton (more on that later.) I trust Paul implicitly but I would never allow him to throw me through the air (not that he could.) I'm trying to picture the coach and choreographer trying to convince someone to do some of the things that they do. It's unreal.

Don't worry I'll probably catch you.

That's going to leave a mark.

WTH?

Then there is skiing. I really, really, really dislike skiing. So when I see these crazy people careening down the slopes at 80 mph I wonder what part of their head hit the floor first when they were dropped on their head as a child. I guess it must be a major adrenaline rush. I prefer to get my adrenaline pumping by racing to the donuts at QT. To each his own I guess.

You can lose your head skiing.

Yikes!

At least the outfits are pretty...ugly.

Perhaps the craziest event of all is skeleton. Seriously, bat shit crazy. I know - I've got a great idea! How about if you lay down on a sled head first and fly down a twisting, curving course at 80 mph? What could possibly go wrong?

This perhaps?

But you get to wear awesome helmets.

Sorry, wrong skeleton.

I guess that is maybe why we love the Olympics so much. People do crazy stuff and we can watch it from the safety of our couch. People do amazing things and we can marvel at them from the safety of our couch. People do beautiful, elegant things and we can enjoy them from the safety of our couch. I really love my couch. It's safe. It might not be amazing, beautiful, or elegant but it's safe. If only I could medal in channel surfing...

You've Gotta Have Friends.

My teenage years were spent working at Six Flags over Texas (SFOT) every summer. SFOT was the great equalizer because everyone wore uniforms. REALLY. UGLY. UNIFORMS. One year we had to wear cowboy hats, cowboy boots, browns skorts (obviously not the boys) and these ugly brown plaid shirts. They were made out of some material that ensured there would be absolutely no circulation. If you put a bunch of these uniforms on the roof of your home in place of solar panels you could provide energy for the entire neighborhood. If you wore make-up it melted off by morning and you also ended up with really bad hat hair. Most of the park was covered in black asphalt and you could just feel the heat generated all the way through your boots. And...it was the best job EVER!

Yes...we were hot.hot.hot!

It's really difficult to describe how great this place was. I met so many people and made life long friends. We worked hard, worked long hours, and survived the heat wave of 1980! That was the first "Beat the Heat" mantra - now it means something different. Stupid LeBron James and Dwyane Wade. Anyway, I digress.

Somehow, 8 of us formed a really close bond. When we were 17 and 18 (4 were 17 and 4 were 18) we convinced our parents to allow us to go to San Antonio together. We were dubbed the 'San Antonio 8'. Thirty five years later we are still together! Six of us are still local and 2 are out of state.

The San Antonio 8 - now

The San Antonio 8 - then

At some point in my 20's I tried to read the book Passages by Gail Sheehy. It was incredibly boring so I never got anywhere near finishing it. I think part of the reason I couldn't read it is because in my 20's I really hadn't experienced these "passages." The local 6 got together for dinner the other night and I realized how many passages each of us have experienced together. By saying this I am making up my own passages or phases of our lives. 

I looked at each one of these lovely women and thought of all that we had been through together. In our teens we weathered many broken hearts and were always there for each other when these break-ups happened. In our 20's we started getting married and having children. We've been through the loss of siblings, loss of a spouse, and loss of parents. We've weathered divorces and 2 of our own moving far away. Some of us are now experiencing the difficulty of helping an aging parent.

These girls KNOW me. They know my past (and they're still my friends!) They know things that no one else knows about me. In fact, I have to keep Beth happy because she is the only one that can help me reconstruct my late teens and 20's. 

On an episode of The Big Bang Theory, Penny asked Bernadette and Amy when they thought you became an adult. That's a tough question. I'm thinking maybe it's when you go from talking about boys to talking about cleaning products for the toilet (and yes - we have had that conversation!) Now we are talking about our bifocals! Time passages!

I can't think of a better group of women to experience the next phase of our lives.

Here we are posing in the same position as our first SA8 photo.

I hope the day will be a lighter highway
For friends are found on every road
Can you ever think of any better way
For the lost and weary travellers to go

Making friends for the world to see
Let the people know you got what you need
With a friend at hand you will see the light
If your friends are there then everything's all right

It seems to me a crime that we should age
These fragile times should never slip us by
A time you never can or shall erase
As friends together watch their childhood fly

Let's Eat : Garlic-Roasted Cauliflower

Haven't you always loved cauliflower?

Yeah, me neither. White. Not that much flavor. Odd-looking. Too bulky to fit into the vegetable keeper. Traditionally overcooked and covered in some kind of suspiciously fake-food cheese sauce to make it more appealing. Something to definitely pass over at the salad bar!

Well, I've changed my mind about cauliflower. Once I tried Garlic-Roasted Cauliflower from Ina Garten's "How Easy is That?" cookbook, it was all over. This recipe has amazing flavor, thanks to the garlic, olive oil, lemon juice, fresh parsley and toasted pine nuts. The first time I made it, my husband and I ate an entire head of cauliflower. The next time, we let the kids taste it and nearly fought over the last few pieces.

Before roasting --

And the finished dish! I can almost smell it...yum.

Maybe the best part of this recipe is how easy it is to make. A little chopping and a little tossing is all it takes. Here's her recipe, modified to reflect the way I make it:

Ina's Garlic-Roasted Cauliflower, Sharon's Way

1 head of garlic
1 large head (or 2 small ones) cauliflower, trimmed, cut into large florets
3 tablespoons olive oil
2 teaspoons kosher salt
1 teaspoon freshly ground pepper
3 tablespoons pine nuts

1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil
1/4 cup minced fresh parsley
2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice 
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Separate the cloves of garlic and peel them. Cut large cloves in half.

3. On a sheet pan, toss the cauliflower with garlic, 3 tablespoons olive oil, 2 teaspoons salt and 1 teaspoon pepper. Spread mixture out in a single layer and roast, tossing after 15 minutes and adding the pine nuts at that time. Continue cooking for 10 minutes or so, until the cauliflower is tender and garlic and pine nuts are lightly browned.

4. Scrape the cauliflower into a large bowl with garlic and pan juices (I do not normally have any pan juices, but Ina thinks I should!). Add remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons olive oil, parsley, pine nuts and lemon juice. Sprinkle with another 1/2 teaspoon salt, toss and serve hot or warm.

Now a regular vegetable in our repertoire, cauliflower has been forever transformed from "ew" to "ah!" -- my whole family is actually excited when it's on the menu. Which helps to prove my theory that there really aren't bad vegetables...just bad ways to fix them. Roasting is a delicious way to fix so many vegetables, and I hope you'll try this one!

Write, Right?

The last few times I’ve attempted to write something, anything, I’ve had help.

Inexplicably, every time I sit in the chair in front of my computer, I almost immediately have a visitor. A curious, attentive, too-smart child who is fascinated by every keystroke. It’s almost like there’s a little alarm in the chair that flashes lights all over the rest of the house, signaling that I have started to relax.

Son: What are you doing?

Me: Trying to write.

Son: About what?

Me: Well, I just had an idea but it’s not really all worked out yet. Sometimes I just type until it comes together.

Son: (bewildered face) That’s weird.

Me: (now with complete writer’s block) I know. Have you had your bath?

Son: Yep.

Me: Brushed teeth?

Son: Uh-huh.

Me: (typing a few lame sentences) Is your homework finished?

Son: (sigh) Hours ago. (reads what I've written, out loud) That doesn’t make sense.

Me:  Right. (typing more) Aren’t you thirsty?

Son: I just drank a whole bunch of water. (burps to prove it, then reads more aloud) You made a typo.

Me: (a teeny bit annoyed) I’ll fix that. Thanks.

Son: (giggling as I make the same typo again) Can we look at Pinterest now?

Me: Well, I was trying to write something. (I consider suggesting that he give it a try, then decide against it -- I'm not in the mood to know if a 10-year-old is better than I am at this.)

Son: Puh-leese? It will just take a minute. I want to see how many “likes” I got on my board.

Me: I don’t think Pinterest works like that. Sometimes people pin your pins, but mostly it’s for you to keep track of stuff you like.

Son: (clearly disappointed) Oh. Can we look at your facebook then?

Me: Oh my, what time is it? Maybe I should tuck you in?

Son: Can I get a membership to Roblox? Or maybe a cell phone?

Me: (slightly exasperated, wondering how I thought I’d ever write a couple of decent paragraphs) Not tonight. Hey look, it’s nearly 8:30. We should go upstairs.

Son: Why do you get to play on the computer whenever you want?

Me: Well, because I'm a grownup and -- believe it or not -- I'm not always playing.

Son: Not. I’m hungry. Do we have any ice cream?

Me: Oh, no, you’re going to sleep now. You can eat breakfast first thing in the morning. But not ice cream.

Son: No fair. (repeating sentences he read, now from memory and in what sounds to me like a mocking tone) Still doesn’t make sense.

Me: (sarcastically) Thank you for critiquing my work.

Son: (brightly) Hey, can we order some stuff?

Me: (slowly closing laptop) No, not right now…

Et Tu Target?

I think my issues with Wal-Mart have been well documented but so far I haven't had problems with Target - until today.

All throughout the health and beauty area they had deals for buy X# of items and you would get a $5.00 Target gift card. Cool. So I bought 3 different sets of products that should have qualified me for 3 gift cards. The first one went through without a hitch. Then we got to the vitamins and it didn't work. Hmm. Then the toothpaste didn't work either. The cashier said, "It will tell us automatically when there is a deal." Well, there are 2 more deals there that we're missing. So, she calls her GSLT or GLTS or some other dumb acronym over to help. Well the dumb acronym comes over and says, "It comes up automatically on the register if there is a deal" then she leaves. Thanks Ms. Acronym!

At this time I'm starting to doubt myself. I'm thinking - that computer really should know what it's doing. I'm probably wrong. I pay and ALMOST leave. Then I think, I'm not the sharpest knife in the drawer or as one of Katy's friends used to say, "not the brightest bulb in the light bulb store" but I really think I have this right. I go to customer service and ask to leave my cart (because it was one of those damn squeaky ones) so I could go check some prices. I go check and I take pictures of the offers. When I did this I realized that on one of them I had bought a bottle with the wrong quantity - it had to be a quantity of 65 instead of 80 (they were mixed together on the shelf) but that was easy to fix. Of course the customer service girl had to call Acronym over to help.

5.8 + 5.8 does not equal 11.6 because you can't add them.

According to this offer if I buy 3 2-pk (11.6 oz) Crest etc...then I will get a $5 GC. You might not know this but toothpaste doesn't come in 11.6 ounce tubes. Until today I didn't know nor did I care about that. Of course, it doesn't have to because when you get a 2-pk of toothpaste (5.8 ounces each) that equals 11.6 ounces. But you can't add them. This is what the acronym told me. She insisted that it had to be 11.6 ounces and therefore I needed 3 2-pk with the tubes being 11.6 ounces each. To this I reply, "OK, where are the packages of 11.6 ounce tubes?" Hint: she couldn't find them because they don't exist.  Any time I said that 5.8 + 5.8 = 11.6 she would say, "no, you can't add them." Well, it seems as though we are at an impasse because I bloody well CAN add them. She continues to look for the cagey 11.6 oz tube (a 2-pk no less) but it continued to evade her. I'm waiting somewhat patiently for her to come to the same conclusion that I had reached that you could in fact add 5.8 + 5.8 and that everyday, all day it would equal 11.6. Maybe the sign was worded poorly but I caught on to it fairly quickly and I'm the customer not the acronym. The print is really small but it says *Free $5 Gift Card when you buy 3 select hair care, skin care, OR personal care items as signed. So she asks me if I bought any hair care items too. No, no I didn't. I didn't have to because it says OR not AND. Finally, she gives up. I want to add that throughout this experience we were both very cordial and friendly (yes, even me) but I wasn't leaving without my GC! She takes me back to customer service and I leave with my 3 $5.00 Target gift cards! And 3 X 5.00 = 11.6!

My Mind - a very dark and terribly frightening place!

Come with me on a journey - a  journey into my mind. It is scary because there are a lot of voices in there and some of them are really mean. If you can stomach it - come along with me.

We have a new laminate floor that looks just like real wood. I love it but unfortunately it shows every step ever taken on it. I see a print that looks like about a size 8 1/2 with a heel I know Katy has been here. I can detect each pet's different paw print. You get what I'm saying. So here we go. I won't try to name each of the voices in my head - there are just way too many - just realize that I'm talking to myself through all of this.

This floor is disgusting. I should sweep and mop it. But, I should dust first because if I sweep and mop, and then dust it will just get the floor icky again. OK, I will dust, sweep, then mop.

You can't dust yet because of all the crap that's on the furniture. You need to do something with that and then you can dust, sweep, and mop.

OK. I will do something will all of the stuff on the furniture.

Wow, I haven't gone through these piles of mail in a while. Some of this stuff needs to be recycled, some of it needs to be shredded, and there are probably some bills in here that need to be paid too.

Well, didn't you sign up on some website where you don't get so much junk mail?

Yeah, I did. Maybe I should do it again. I will just get on the computer real quick and take care of that.

Don't stay on there too long. Just get on the one website and then right back off again.

OK. While I'm here I might as well check Facebook and Pinterest.

No! Don't do it.

It won't take long - shut up.

You know you are just going to play Candy Crush, hit Like on a bunch of statuses, and then pin a bunch of nonsense that you will never look at again. God knows you aren't going to make any of the recipes you pin and won't ever do the exercises you pin either. Yeah, I really see you doing 50 burpees while you watch TV!

Shut up bitch. I hate you.

Two hours later...

I told you so.

And I told you to shut up. OK, so I'm just going to sort through this mail. Dammit. I forgot to get on that mail site to stop junk mail while I was on the computer.

Don't even think about it.

OK. Sort the mail, shred the financial stuff, recycle junk, pay bills if needed, dust, sweep, mop. I've got this. I just need to go to the computer room to use the shredder. Crap, I can't even get to the shredder there is so much junk in here! OK, clear path to shredder, shred the financial stuff, recycle junk, pay bills if needed, dust, sweep, mop. No problem except I can't even sit in the chair in here. What's in this bag? Oh, it's clothes to give to the Salvation Army. They won't pick up just one bag so I need to clean the closets out so I will have more for them to pick up.

Right now? You want to clean the closets out right now?

Yeah. Then I will be able to sit in this chair and use the shredder.

Have you thought about moving the bag to another spot?

I hate you. OK, I will move the bag, sit down and shred the financial stuff, recycle junk, pay bills if needed,  then dust, sweep, mop. No problem except there is a huge pile of stuff on the shredder! It looks like more stuff to shred. This small shredder isn't going to cut it. Maybe I should go to Wal-Mart and buy another one that is better suited to shred all of this.

NO!

I so very much hate you. But you know that I won't be able to shred all of this because the shredder will overheat. What do you have to say about that?

How about shred some stuff, let the shredder cool down and while it is cooling sort through more junk to recycle, and pay any bills that you find, then you can go back to the shredding and repeat this process as many times as possible.

You've been talking to my husband haven't you? OK, I suppose that is a good idea. I will do that then shred the financial stuff, recycle junk, pay bills if needed, dust, sweep, mop.

Good, stay focused. You can do this!

No she can't.

Shut up! I've got her moving in the right direction, don't discourage her now! If she doesn't do something about all this stuff we'll end up on an episode of hoarders.

Why don't you tell her just to sweep the damn floor instead of having her running around doing all of this other stuff?

It all needs to get done.

You're going to wear her out and then she won't do anything at all for 3 weeks. You know how she shuts down. Her meds aren't strong enough for this. She will get overwhelmed and not do anything then she will feel like a failure. This isn't going to end well. Just tell her to sweep and maybe mop. Then let her rest for a while. Baby steps.

She seems to be doing well right now. I'm keeping her focused. Baby steps won't cut through this mess. Be quiet, let me work.

OK, the shredder is kind of smoking and smells funny I think I better let it rest. I'm supposed to use those shredder conditioning sheets after shredding for 30 minutes but I'm out. Maybe I should go to Wal-Mart and get some.

NO!

You don't have to yell. I just don't want to break the shredder although I might already have. I'm tired. I want to take a nap.

NO! You can do this.

Can I just sit down for a few minutes and rest. I promise not to get on the computer, read, watch TV, or nap.

You always promise and then you end up doing that stuff anyway. I won't allow it. Keep going. Where were you?

Standing at the smoking shredder wanting to take a nap and I'm hungry too.

Step away from the shredder and let's get you a small snack and then you can continue your work.

There's nothing to eat. Maybe I should go to Wal-Mart and get some groceries.

What kind of sadistic weirdo are you anyway? You hate Wal-Mart. Why do you keep insisting on going to Wal-Mart?

I don't know. I got confused and I'm still hungry.

Keep working.

I hate you.

I know you do but keep working.

Oh look, here's a Christmas card from the Smith's. I wonder if she has a Facebook account I would love to stay in touch with her. I wonder how old her kids are now. Maybe I will just check Facebook to...

NO! NO FACEBOOK! NO PINTEREST! WORK DAMMIT.

I HATE YOU! Oh crap, I just remembered that Amelia needs her athletic training shirt on Thursday. I better look through the laundry and find it. I'm not sure if she needs the green one or the other one. Guess I better do them both. Crap! There is already laundry in the washer and the dryer. (Turns on washer to wash clothes that are already in there - throws needed shirts in there too - turns dryer on to get the wrinkles out of the clothes that are in there. Completely forgets about it for a day and then has to repeat the process all over again.) I wonder if I ever filled out the warranty card for the new washing machine? Maybe I should get online to do that now.

You know my answer. No.

OK. The shredder has quit smoking I will shred the financial stuff, recycle junk, pay bills if needed, dust, sweep, mop. But what about all this clutter in here, and in all the bedrooms, and the kitchen? The whole house is such a mess I really don't know where to start. I can't do this.

Told you she was going to get overwhelmed. She's starting shut down mode. This looks like a bad one.

OK, maybe I will get her just to sweep.

I'm going to clean out the garage!

Whoa! Did not see that one coming.

Why are you going to clean out the garage? Why don't you just sweep?

Because, I have to do something with all this junk. I'm going to sort through it all and decide what needs to go to the Salvation Army, then I will need to move some of the stuff to the garage to keep until I can really go through it, for that I will need room in the garage, thus before I can sweep, mop, and dust I have to shred the financial stuff, recycle junk, pay bills if needed, clean out the closets, clean the garage to have room to store more stuff, then sweep, mop, and dust.

I don't think you are being very logical.

It makes sense to me.

Three hours later...

I'm tired and hungry and need a shower. I've got a huge mess in the garage so we won't be able to park in there for a while. I'm positive the shredder is broken. I'm too tired to sweep, dust, or mop. Once again, I've failed. I'm never going to be able to do this. Junk will just keep piling up. Dust will take over and we will all get sick. The floor will just get ickier. I'm just a huge failure. To add to that I'm not eating well or exercising. I'm a horrible person.

You should have just told her to sweep!

I know, why do I always think it will turn out differently?

Wishful thinking.