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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| I witnessed an incident that I found hard to believe yesterday. A grown woman was buying birthday party goods for her one year old. She told the cashier, "My baby is going to be one year old. She's my last baby, so I'm going all out. I won't have another chance." The cart was overflowing. I waited while she placed popular child theme gift bags, gift wrap, plates, napkins, and tissue paper on the counter. One present rang up $50. There were more pretty pink and lilac gifts, stacks of clothes, which cost as much as adult clothes. Still she put things on the counter. The cashier finally said, "That will be $450 something or other." The woman couldn't believe it. "No, it can't be that much." "Great." I thought, "Now we'll all wait while they go over the receipt and start eliminating a couple of items." Sure enough, she eliminated the $50 item, then two more. At that point, she needed a manager override, because it looks suspicious when a cashier takes too many items off. The total was whittled down to under $300. The woman was in tears and wiping her eyes dramatically. Then she angrily said, "More items have to come off." All the expensive party items came off, The $10 tee shirts, size one, came off. The next subtotal was still too big. More items were removed. The woman was huffy and short with the cashier. Finally, at $180, she said okay, and paid. Over half the items she bought came off the counter top. Everyone waited. She never thanked the cashier or apologized to anyone for causing a delay or inconvenience, but left in an obvious bad mood. How does a responsible parent of several children go shopping with no idea of what she's spending? Does she have no idea how arithmetic works? Had she never been shopping before? Why was she so oblivious to what she was doing? Who's the child here? Worse, when she was disappointed or realized her mistakes, why did she take it out on someone else? Maybe people would have felt more sympathy for her if she had just expressed a little concern for other people, either the other customers or the clerks who had to re-shop all her merchandise. It's hard to feel sorry for someone who's rude. |
| I listened to someone tell the story today of her one and only grandson. He's in his twenties and has cut all ties with his father, with whom he has been close his whole life, and, subsequently has cut himself off from her. His mother was never a very good mother, but now she's reaching out to him. He's grown and can help her. So he left a good job to move to another state and be near her. It reminded me of stories my mother used to tell me about grown children who treated their mothers like queens, even though they were lousy mothers when the kids were growing up. Of course, my mom was trying to impress upon us that she should be treated the same way by us, her ungrateful children. I pointed out to my mom that it worked out the way it did because she was a good mother. She did what mothers are supposed to do. She was there for her kids, she took care of them herself, she taught them what they needed to know to survive. As grown-ups, her kids had her love and affection and knew it. They didn't have to continue and struggle to win their mother's approval and acknowledgment. My mom didn't buy it. She wanted the adulation, non-stop. (She was well-cared for, and had daily visits whenever she was in the hospital or nursing home. Her family continues to be very close.) The truth is that if kids are raised properly, they will continue to respect their parents, but they won't have to "win" their approval. They won't have to make personal sacrifices or throw the other parent under the bus to finally get the parental affirmation they didn't receive as children. I'm not talking about an elderly or disabled parent, but a fully functioning, healthy parent. Even children of bad parents should see to their basic needs for medical care and shelter in their waning years. |
| I wish more people would do their bios on Writing.com. You don't have to be detailed or reveal personal secrets. You don't need to jeopardize your security. But it helps if you want other people to review your work. For instance, a story by an eighth grader might get a gentler review than someone with a PhD. Or someone who hasn't written since high school, but is recording his life now that he's retiring from a long life of auto mechanics, might need general steering more than grammar. English as a second language is a good tip, too. A good bio would tell us what stage of life the author is in presently. It might also tell us the person has some expertise in the subject matter or is just guessing. The point is that our reviews could be more helpful, maybe gentler, if we knew more about the writer. We don't need to know a lot of personal stuff. Maybe for Party Central, we could encourage everyone who hasn't set up a bio to make a quick stab at it. Just put some general guidelines down, Happy writing. |
| Since I have to make a living, I am working at a job I don't like, but I don't hate it. So I am trying to make the best of it and have a positive attitude. The staff is much nicer than many where I have worked. My main complaint is strictly personal. I have to spend 5 or more hours on my feet. The shorter days aren't so bad, but the longer ones make my legs and ankles swell. That breaks the capillaries which creates a really ugly red rash. Granted I always wear long pants, so no one sees but me. However, the blood dissipates and leaves the iron behind. That creates brown spots the doctors call "rust". It's permanent. So the fronts of my ankles and tops of my feet are "tan" looking. Right now, I get to wear comfortable, supportive shoes, like sneakers or other walking shoes. With good socks, my feet aren't experiencing any problem. This doesn't hurt mind you. Except that the skin is a little tender on the red spots the day after a 7 or 8 hour shift standing or walking. I have to go shopping for compression knee highs. They're expensive, hard to get on, but they keep the blood vessels supported. I'm on a lot of medication and have circulatory problems. Keeping my feet in the same position, like sitting at the computer, and forgetting to move around, causes problems, too, so it's not just the pressure of being upright. I guess I need to keep my resume out there, too. If the condition continues, even while doing everything else right, I might have to get something that allows me to prop my feet up occasionally. |
| This is a great time of year. The days are still hot, but the nights are cool. The shadows are longer. The air just seems to be different. Evening comes much sooner. The morning creeps in a little later, like an employee who used to come in early with anticipation, but now shows up with a little less enthusiasm barely on time. The trees are changing. The squash, the beans, the peppers have all played out. There's still a few tomatoes. We'll have some fried green ones soon. Peaches are abundant. My basil has just about wilted away, but it still smells good. It's just too withered for cooking. The mosquitoes, wasps, and little lizards are still in full force. In fact, our neighborhood has been besieged with scrawny looking foxes and raccoons recently. A cat had to have surgery after a raccoon attack on its own porch. Asters and fall colored mums are started to show up. Our shrubs have been trimmed, and the summer flowers have been cut back. We're trying to get the yard in shape before leaf raking begins. Then the scarecrows and jack-o-lanterns will start to show up. Maybe something about September makes us recall, if only vaguely, the resolutions, the dreams. Now as we rush towards the end of the year, we mark our progress or lack thereof. As children, it's a new time, a beginning of a new school term, a new course. Somehow as we get older, it marks the beginning of the end, as the year rushes to close up shop. It's exciting and sad, exhilarating and wistful, all at once. |
| I scanned all the old family photos and put them in photo gallery. I tagged them by family member. I didn't include school or job photos because no one cares but me. I wanted a family history all in one place. There are several problems with that. No one knows how to get them off my computer for printing or for slide shows but me. If the computer dies, the photos go, too. (We still have the originals, except for newer digital ones.) I was told my photo collection is slowing down my computer, not viruses or poor Web service. I suppose I could invest in another hard drive as a back up for photos only. I'd have to make sure someone from the younger generation knew how to retrieve them. I could group them and put on memory sticks, but they'd likely be lost or thrown out when I die, and so the photos would still be lost. The next generation wouldn't see their grandparents or great grandparents or crazy uncles from their family tree. They need evidence that they come from a long line of crazy. Another problem I have with back-up is that I don't know how to copy an entire volume of photos. I'd be doing one at a time. I probably have a thousand or close to it. Some date back to the early 1900's. For that matter I need to back up my family tree research, and all my short stories. They need to be stored somewhere for my own use. Cyberspace isn't always the answer. These are the kind of courses the local community college should offer, or the senior center. |
| A warranty is available on almost anything these days, for a price. Buy a $10 toy, and it comes with an available warranty for 2 or 3 years for $5. A $12 pillow or comforter comes with an available warranty. The sales person is forced by the computer to ask if you want it. And they get low scores if the right percentage of people don't take them. But that's where the store makes their real profits. That and opening charge accounts. I understand the need for warranties on major appliances, electronics, or fuel powered equipment like hedge trimmers. These always need repairs and you hate to fork out more for repairs than a new one would cost.But toys! Bedding! Kitchen appliances that should come with warranties already for free? It's just an extra fee. Toys are going to be broken. Comforters are going to be torn. That's what they're made for. Who remembers where they store warranties or contact info? Too often, people forget about the warranties or can't find them or the original receipts. So they don't make a claim or they're too embarrassed. I once tried selling furniture. I told the man the mattress came with a 20 year warranty. He said, "Who would turn in a mattress after six months? That would be like turning in your underwear?" He drove the point home, crudely but surely. Very few people would return it back after that initial new phase. I don't want to discourage you if you want a warranty or an expendable item. Just keep your paperwork in a safe place. Oh, and you have to go on-line and register it yourself. |
| I recently saw a post on Facebook that showed a photo of a gray-haired woman in a shirtwaist dress, standing in her garden near her old house. It said, "My grandma could survive anything because she knew how to do stuff!" I thought that was probably true, based on my grandmothers' lives. They could sew by hand or machine, cook from scratch, using a wood stove if necessary, gather eggs from the chickens they raised, milk cows, and a lot of other things. They made toys, raised vegetables from seeds, babysat children and old folks and sick folks. They snapped beans and knew how to make butter from milk. I think they both could wring a chicken's neck to make Sunday dinner. If I had to kill a chicken or pluck its feathers or remove its innards, I'd starve. I can barely stand to cook a liver, much less remove one from a recently murdered chicken. But their fried chicken certainly made your mouth water. They had a great knowledge of food, but never used cookbooks. One of them could cut out a pattern without using straight pins and put it together for a perfect fit. Cutting firewood or kindling was all something they could handle when no man was around. One of them liked to fish, and would clean her own fish. The other one had a sister who liked to hunt and would handle her own kill. I never thought of them as survivors, but I guess they really were. They were tough as nails, but liked lace and flowers. Me, I fall apart without air-conditioning or central heat. I know how to sew, but haven't done any in years. I avoid ironing like the plague. I've got some wrinkled clothes waiting for me right now. I suppose if we had a weather disaster or something like that, after a few days when the tuna and the fresh things ran out, we'd start getting hungry. Heck, I consider the TV and the computer two of life's necessities. Yep, I guess they just don't make 'em like Grandma any more. Certainly not me. |
| Tomorrow is my father's 87th birthday. One of his granddaughters was in town tonight only. So we gathered tonight at one of his favorite restaurants--8 adults, 4 children, and a newborn. I was very happy they put us in a separate room. I know how the kids in my family are. The other diners were saved from us. The two year old did a screaming number just as the food was served. Her mother had to taker her outside, while her food got cold. The others wanted to carry the booster seats around, but not sit in them at the table. The waitress was patient; the food was good, as always. I was anticipating the striped bass again, but it wasn't on the menu tonight, so I had salmon and crispy asparagus. The newborn was the most contented and best behaved child. The parents saw someone they knew at the bar on the way out and stopped to show off the baby. My dad was following them, and started playing with their 3 year old. I tried to stop him, but he plowed in oblivious to others. I finally grabbed him and pointed to the front door which he had passed. So the three year old came with him and played loudly in the entrance. Most of my crew was already outside. I'm sure the restaurant workers were glad to see us leave. Then we all came back to my house for ice cream and cake. It was way past the kids' bedtimes, but everyone had to hold the new baby. I have plenty of toys, so they kept a racket going. We all sang, while the kids and grandpa/great-grandpa blew out the candles. Only two adults and the six year old declined dessert. They still sat around and talked and took pictures. I gave away excess yellow squash, home grown tomatoes, and green peppers. I made them take things left from previous visits. Grandpa paid the entire bill for the steak and seafood dinner, as well as the ice cream. (Someone else bought the cake.) But the best present he got was having all his kids, grand-kids, and great-grand-kids together at one time. The little ones showed him their boo-boos, and told him about school or daycare. Amazingly, all the little ones gathered around him and posed for a photo. They usually won't stand still that long. So I think he was happy. He was surrounded by people he loves and who love him. That's a pretty good day after 87 years. And he took care of all of us. |
| I didn't grow up eating eggplant. No one in our family grew it or cooked it. The only recipes for it that I ever saw involved spaghetti sauce and melted cheese. I don't know why we stayed away from it. Thomas Jefferson had extensive gardens near here, and he grew eggplant. But then I'm in the South, and we didn't eat grits either. My mom never would eat them, even after her kids grew up and learned to eat them with cheese or butter. She used to feed us oatmeal or cream of wheat, but no grits. Anyway, my dad and I have discovered eggplant is easy to grow. We stir fry it, mix it with other vegetables, and so forth. Today, I tried Stuffed Eggplant. I suppose you could stuff it with anything you like, but since we have a surplus of tomatoes and peppers right now, I went with a vegetable stuffing. It took a while to chop all the fresh veggies, and made a number of prep dishes to wash, but it was delicious and healthy. A dash of cayenne and a sprinkle of paprika gave it a kick. Earlier in the week, I took the surplus corn from Sunday, cut it off the cob and made fresh corn pudding. Dad prepares for Sunday like we'll have a lot of company, which we sometimes do, but when no one shows up, we eat leftovers for days on end. That's easy for cooking dinner. It's not easier for washing dishes, because you keep putting the leftovers in smaller containers, so there's always lots of pots or bowls. Very seldom do I use the recipe exactly as written, unless it might affect the way it rises, like bread. (I gave up souffles decades ago.) So the corn pudding recipe called for heavy cream and sugar. I used whole milk which my Dad likes, but I can't drink. I used Splenda instead of sugar, since the two of us are not children and should watch our calories. We're still eating corn pudding, and now have leftover eggplant. I think we should be vegetarians this time of year. We always have too much squash, green and yellow, peppers, etc. And Dad buys corn, now that his garden is much smaller. His favorite vegetables, which he would have every day of the year if possible, are corn, cucumbers, radishes, and tomatoes. He does love his fresh veggies. And he eats bananas almost every day, with other fruits daily. His excuse for hard candy is the constant tickle in his throat. But he wants meat at every dinner, too. So my freezer is full of squash. I'm experimenting on a regular basis with vegetable recipes. |
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