I do not know quite what happened or when , but my hubby and I now qualify for seniors' discounts at some venues. This creates a quandary; in order to save money, but not face, we have to admit to our age. HMMMM..... We definitely do not consider ourselves to be old. In this day and age ,when people as a whole are living longer and healthier lives why are 'young seniors', those in their fifties, like moi, considered 'old'?? It's so true that age is just a perception! "Maturity" is very objective/subjective, and I object! Whew, a few years have skittered by since I composed this biography block. Those "fifties" are in the rear view mirror and they are distant, fond memories. Oh, I do not plan to stop writing any time soon.
Didn't ICE find the illegal aliens who had secretly landed in our trailer parks and ICE shipped them to an El Salvadorian prison? I thought many of the trailer park inhabitants who resisted will be vacationing at the prison, er renamed Cultural Exchange Theme Park, soon?
When the toe heels it may be time for specially fitted shoes. Broken bones, no matter how small, can create or exacerbate other health issues as one ages.
Witchy Woman Yes, I have family nearby. The lake is also across the road. Water is kinda important, eh? A spoonful of coffee grounds just isn't the same without it. Thanks for commiserating with me.
I'm so sorry to hear you're having such a terrible week. I've gone through the float valve thing at my old house in Maine, it felt like forever before they got it replaced. I bought gallons of water to keep my coffee supply steady. I refilled empty jugs for the toilet from the lake. We were lucky it happened in the summer because bathing was at the lake. I can't imagine doing it in the fall with the temperatures dropping. I never asked if your family lives nearby? Hopefully, you can take care of the essentials there.
Very nicely written. I am a big communicator and if more people would put forth a better effort, it would be a better place. Little acts of kindness truly goes a long way. You have identified it well. I can feel your sincerity coming through your writing. I would like to see more of the younger crowd helping or being involved with the older folks. I know my day goes better when someone has said hi or gives a waves.
I don't care for dark British/Dutch humor. Dislike Monty Python as well. Give me a bittersweet French or Japanese movie or a sad Portuguese song. I'm more introspective.
You were very fortunate. I never really fell into anyone's arms.
I need to reassess my needs. My 'romantic' efforts in Thailand had limited success.
Share some of your favorite Fall foods/snacks/recipes, and perhaps a memory to go along with them. This is the time of year when I hang up the barbecue so to speak, and I begin to cook more casseroles, soups, and comfort foods. Translation: we choose to eat "heavier/heartier" meals that pack on extra winter insulation. I hesitate to label this as blubber, but hibernating animals prepare for the colder temperatures ahead. We have parkas to fill out. Back at the time my eldest was still an infant and blessedly not yet stricken with an aversion to beans, I decided to drag a wedding gift from the dark recesses of a kitchen cabinet and dust it off. This cooking vessel was not pretty in appearance. It resembled a large Brown Betty teapot minus the handle and spout. On top was placed a jaunty little lid that rattled in place. I had great plans to utilize this crockery known as a bean crock. I phoned my mother and requested her family-tested recipe for 'Old Fashioned Baked Beans'. During the conversation that didn't just deal with the topic at hand, she mentioned that this recipe was 100 years old. I'll admit I did feel awed and a wee bit intimidated. This clearly could be categorized as an heirloom, an antique. Ancestors probably ate similarly prepared sustenance. Anyway, I purchased a bunch of beans of the navy variety I believe, and I soaked them overnight in cold water. That step couldn't have been simpler. In the morning, I followed the directions scrupulously, and I simmered those beans for thirty minutes. So far, so good. I measured out the molasses and the seasonings as per the recipe. I stirred and mixed everything together. I spooned the beans into that awaiting bean crock, and I carefully placed it in the oven. Then I noticed the baking time.... seven hours. Fast forward, and it was time to release the crock from its hot cavern. This incredible aroma had been wafting all afternoon. Mouth-watering best described it. I donned a pair of oven mitts, and slowly pulled the steaming crock into my grip, or so I thought. Actually, my grip was not sure, or tight. I lost possession of that cantankerous crock and it hurtled to the kitchen floor. Hot beans have a marvelous travelling trajectory. They somehow scattered, slithered, and smeared everywhere including an impressively large puddle under the stove. Shards of ceramic also co-mingled with the mess of beans. As I recall, the clean-up took effort and time. Slippery beans must be shovelled and coaxed. My home-baked beans didn't last long enough to be sampled. I filed this under kitchen calamity, and it would be years before I felt ready to attempt this recipe again.
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