Sunday, September 28, 2014


Tonight I discovered that tiny word at the top left of most blogs that says:  "next blog".

Otay.  So I clicked and was off and running across the internet, visiting blogs that had one thing in common:  they were old and abandoned.  

While reading the last posts to these dead blogs, most of them were saying things like:  "I am really moving forward!"  or  "This is going to be a blog about my exciting lifestyle and interesting opportunities!"

Then....the date reads March 13, 2010 and I have to wonder.  Was it all bullshit?  Did they die?  The options are horrendous.

Blogging can't go on forever.  Not for any of us.  I've been doing it for 15 years.  Few people have.  But it's not something that is important to me.

WHY would we do things that aren't really "that" important in the first place?

Deep inside, we know there's a lot of people on "E HARMONY", sitting in mom's basement, talking about their youthful figures and exciting accomplishments. 

This also happens with some bloggers.

Surrounded by the anonymity the internet provides, people are pretty safe presenting a fantasy life.  But why go to the effort if the only strokes they get are due to strangers believing the fantasy is real.

But for the rest of us, what WILL we eventually do with our blogs?  

And, to be honest, most blogs have a way of eventually petering out, losing readers along the wayside.

IF I were to stop blogging, I'd like to think I'd be doing more and writing less.  But in all actuality, I get a lot of good ideas on the internet. Cooking.  Cards.   New interests.  And half the fun is sharing them with you.  Fun for ME.  Maybe not for you.

What would we actually be doing if we stopped blogging?  And why DO we blog?

Seriously.  I'd like to know.

Saturday, September 27, 2014


Joe has a trick he plays on me that is SO subtle, sometimes even he doesn't know he's doing it. 

We'll be riding along and my subconscious picks up the ever so subtle sound of the tune being hummed by Joe, then I go into the entire song.

He'll look at me and ask:  "Was I doing it again?"


When he slips up behind me in the kitchen (which I have declared a "NON-SNEAKING UP ZONE"), he gets away with whatever he's done by singing  the secret words: which immediately throws me into some kind of singing form of  Tourettes syndrome and I must finish the * entire * freaking * song.

It's one of those you cannot get out of your head.

And in case you don't know what I'm referring to, give a listen.  You can hate me tomorrow.

Few people realize this tune was originally from a lesbian porno movie made back in the 80's.  

You're welcome.


Thursday, September 25, 2014


There's a room in Indiana that I miss.  It started out being just an open breezeway until dad closed it in with a handmade door and ultra cheap windows.  Dad never built anything on credit.  When he could buy a board, he used it.  When he could buy a window, he put it in.

The walls were the original redwood lap boards from the house on the left, and the garage on the right.

It was a fugly room with an old cistern serving as the floor.

As a child, dad would pull aside the concrete lid and I was too afraid to look down into the collected rain water, for fear I'd see someone looking back.

Then, as his daughter, I took over with everything I had learned from dad, and in 2001, I bought a new door, new windows and built that empty shell into this:

Yep.  I built the heat duct enclosure.  The base for the washer and dryer.  I laid the tile.  I built the shelves that are sagging in this photo.  I had just realized I'd better build some upright braces, or at least move the heavy stuff to the bottom shelf!!

That armoir to the right was over 100 years old.

It was the perfect place to enter with muddy boots or snow dripping off your hat.  

Our furbabies always waited here for Joe and me to return home.

I never realized until now, how much memory one room can hold that is "just" a laundry room.

Wednesday, September 24, 2014


The big breaking news down here, nightly, concerns a neighborhood with an empty lot.  This lot is owned by a woman who has put FOUR HUNDRED AND SIX TONS of garbage onto the lot for the past nine years.

When the neighbors finally got someone's attention, she was fined repeatedly by the city and told to clear out the trash.  Health hazard.  Rats.  Odor.  And she suggested the people living on the street MOVE AWAY if they found her lot offensive.

Cleanup of 406 tons of trash continues at Citrus Park property

At a cost of $90,000, the city used cranes and bulldozers to rid the neighborhood of the trash.  Of course the woman bitched on television.  It's a shame they couldn't get rid of the true trash, and shove her under some of that FOUR HUNDRED AND SIX TONS of garbage.

Now the little neighborhood is rejoicing.  THEY didn't move.  They eliminated the trash.  

It's the same with blogging.  If you can't remove the trash, you have three choices:
(1) let your readers be exposed to them (for that, I apologize)
(2) take your blog down
(3) do what I did.  (and I thank my readers for the suggestion)

I removed all traces, signs, and visible "lurking" of a jealous troll who was giving my ass a rash.

If you'll notice, the LIVE FEED and the SITE METER are gone.

Hey, if you keep trash covered and out of eyesight, you can literally forget all about it.  But the smell will get to you eventually.

So, after I was finished deleting every device known to man that would show the troll's presence, I sprayed Lysol on my sidebar.



The troll won't like being ignored, but that's not my problem.

*doing the riverdance*

I am now only aware of my friend's comments and enjoying visiting them to my heart's content.

I can hear the birds singing.  
Joe's smiling.  
I'm happy. 

Isn't it a lovely day.

Monday, September 22, 2014


It's so nice to be able to start a post and already know what you're going to say, instead of trying to come up with something dynamic!  Fantastic!  Newsworthy!

Do any of us actually DO that?

I get my enjoyment not from particular blogs as much as from the particular people who own them.

Few blogs are going to knock your socks off, and if they do, you're in an illicit area and must erase your history immediately.

You can tell who I like just by looking at my sidebar.  Like I said, it's not the BLOG, it's the PERSON, and one such person....while building a rocket stove...took the time to send me a little something that I have hanging from my dining room light.

Right between my 
sign, and my 

It's on a thin fishing line that looks exactly like a thin web, coming right out of the spider's little....uh....the thing on little spiders that webs come out of.  Okay?

Off and on all day, either Joe or I pass through the room and catch ourselves doing a double-take, having forgotten it's hanging there. Joe has suggested I move it elsewhere, like.....hmmmm.....he might not like where I move it, so it's staying were it is.

Now I want a giant magnifying glass to put in the window for the next time my neighbor, Brittle Britches, peeks inside.

Wednesday, September 17, 2014


While women, for the most part, tend to exaggerate just a wee bit, men tend to minimize a million times ten.  (not to exaggerate)

We've been to the local "podiatrist" in the past, and he didn't seem to know a hand from a foot. (not to exaggerate)  

So we found another one, because Joe's toenail has gone from white to navy blue and his P.A. said it would have to be removed. (his nail, not his toe)

So, we found another podiatrist and entered the small and grungy waiting room containing seven chairs and seven patients...waiting. Make that six patients and one purse. 

One woman felt her enormous purse deserved its own chair, so I went back to the parking lot and spent the next THREE HOURS reading my Kindle in the car.  (No exaggerating)

The doctor told Joe to come back in two weeks, and if it looked the same, it would have to be removed.  (the nail, not the toe)

It seems when the podiatrist asked Joe "How long has it been like this?"  Joe answered  "For a while."

A WHILE being anywhere between two days and two months.  Not THREE YEARS.

If I had thrown the woman's purse into the hallway and sat down with Joe, I could have explained to the podiatrist that Joe's toe has been navy blue for EIGHT YEARS......and I'd now be calling him "hop-along".

Friday, September 12, 2014


Hey, hey, hey.   Let the good times roll! 

We are now resuming the continuing program that was momentarily sidelined.  My readers, friends and I are happily going on with our lives.  

And I got a humongous package delivered to me from my Canadian buddy, Helga, full of clothes, perty knick-knacks, baseball caps, and gifts for Beau AND Joe.  

The Cpap has proven effective.  It was needed, and I love it.  My apologies to the DOKTOR who was accidentally correct.  Hey, even the sun shines on a dog's butt occasionally, and occasionally a Doktor gets it right.  First time for everything.

I have energy again.  Gaaa-LORY hallelujah!  

I'm starting to really love this area now.  After realizing most fruitcakes live elsewhere, (and our particular tiny town is fairly sane), we had proof positive in the following photo over our house.  

  It started in the front yard and ended in the back.  
JUST our house. 
At least that's what Joe said and he's right.

My insulin intake has dropped from 80 units a day to 28, with a ten pound weight loss thrown in for good measure.  Ten to go and I'll be at my old fighting weight, but that's just a sideline benefit.  I FEEL GOOD for the first time in about 5 years.

Of course, being paranoid, I figure there will be a kick-my-ass-to-the-ground reaction, but until there is, I FEEL GOOD.

So I'm going to show you what I felt like doing this morning.

Believe it or not, but that is a FOUR EGG omelet overpowering my 14 inch teflon skillet.

With mozzarella and sharp cheddar oozing out of the center. 

The "trick" is to separate four eggs and whip the whites until they triple in size and stiff peaks form.  Fold in the yolks and poor into a well buttered pan on medium heat and cover.  It's HUGE!!  

When it's almost done, put cheese on top and slap it into the oven to melt the cheese.

Next up?  I've already finished cooking our evening meal and it's only 11 am!!!
Chicken and dressing.

AND!  Can you take one more thing?

Four sticks of butter at room temperature:  $3.45.
1 cup of buttermilk
1 cup of canola oil
1 teaspoon salt.

Pour into two empty butter containers and you have this:

At $3.75 per tub at the grocery store, this is two for the price of one.  
And it's ONLY butter, buttermilk, and canola oil.  
NO artificial ingredients.

Plus, add cinnamon and sugar and you have restaurant style flavored butter.

Now: I have ironing to do, then I've gotta boogie to the beat.