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Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #2017254
My random thoughts and reactions to my everyday life. The voices like a forum.
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.
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October 5, 2017 at 8:49pm
October 5, 2017 at 8:49pm
#921567
Everyone loves a good bonfire, right? And fall is the perfect time to sit by the fire with some friends...tell us a good campfire story!
         Ack! Okay, I know this prompt is asking for a scary campfire story..... um, I've got nothing. Nothing new and exciting anyway. I do have anecdotes though.
         Just recently, I met a woman I'd consider to be a camping newbie. She'd never camped, or roughed it in her life. She actually wore all white clothing, high heels, and full make-up to a campfire.. As the flames crackled and leapt into the darkening sky, she repeatedly glanced nervously over her shoulder. The snapping of the wood caused her to startle. "Um," she managed to ask, " are there any bears out here?" Her companions shook their heads. Relaxing a wee bit and unclenching her hands, she remarked at how bright the stars appeared.to be. "In the city, I never notice them." Their next comment caused her to stumble blindly to the tent. "We do happen to have blood-sucking bats though."
          Wait, I have heard the tale of the handless man... legend has it that one evening in the wilds of Northern Ontario, a crowd of young men gathered near a remote gravel pit to horse around and drink. They swiftly built a roaring campfire, and sat around it in a ring. The beer flowed freely, and their spirits climbed accordingly. After a time, they began to wrestle and flex their muscles. As they discovered too late, aluminum-framed lawn chairs are flimsy and tipsy. Rodney found himself at the receiving end of a shove that tossed him straight into the flames. Howling and blind with pain, he disappeared into the bush. Moans and screams echoed all around. Every sound amplified in the darkness.The next morning after hours of searching, his friends found Rodney's. charred hand bobbing in the cold water of a stream. Rodney himself was never seen again.
October 4, 2017 at 8:29pm
October 4, 2017 at 8:29pm
#921498
Tell us about some of the fun autumn events your local community held when you were a kid.
         
         
         Every autumn, communities in my area hosted fall fairs. Inevitably, there would be shiny, noisy, fast-moving carnival rides like the Tilt-A-Whirl. Of course, I'd wait in line anticipating my turn to spin and twirl. As a child, the Ferris wheel seemed to be gigantic.Perched high in the air in a bucket seat, I thought I could see for miles.
         This was the time to stuff myself with sweet cotton candy. How could something that resembled colourful fluff be so sticky? The smell of buttered popcorn wafted on the air. Some friends opted to treat themselves to funnel cakes.
         Games of chance lured us to try our luck, but I never won the largest stuffed animals. I recall a man winning a huge bear, and roaring away from the park with it seated behind him on his motorcycle. One of the coveted prizes was a goldfish in a glass bowl.
         I've never been a farm girl, or country girl, so seeing farm animals became a novelty. The crowing roosters vied for attention with the honking geese, and the clucking chickens. Even the docile looking pigeons had a voice, cooing along with the cacophony. The cows mooed. The donkeys brayed. The ponies whinnied. It was as if all these animals were conversing with each other and celebrating their reunion.
         Usually, a framers' market set up on the fair grounds with their fresh produce. The golden pumpkins were the most noticeable, I suppose because of their enormity. I always think of autumn as the vegetable season. Harvest describes it perfectly.
October 3, 2017 at 8:08pm
October 3, 2017 at 8:08pm
#921425
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.
October 2, 2017 at 8:10pm
October 2, 2017 at 8:10pm
#921344
*LeafR* Is there a song, poem, or story that reminds you of fall or takes you to autumn in your imagination?
         
         
         
         
         
         
         
         I suppose when I think of this time of year, I remember a classic cartoon/animated feature that first aired way back in 1966. Yes, Virginia, there was an autumn that particular year, and yes, people celebrated Halloween back then, too. I'm referring to Charles M. Schulz' creation, 'It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown'.
          In this piece, the Peanuts gang are puzzled by Linus and his insistence that an entity he's dubbed The Great Pumpkin will visit him on Halloween. This closely parallels the customs and beliefs of Christmas. Good boys and girls will be rewarded with gifts carried to them in The Great Pumpkin's sack. Linus even goes so far as to write a letter to this gourd o' good. He concedes that this pumpkin may be #2, but he believes it's because Santa gets all the publicity. Linus mentions singing pumpkin carols. He weathers the disbelief of his sister and their friends, somewhat like the naysayers who negate Christmas by claiming it's fake.
         Linus demonstrates his strong belief by refusing to trick-or-treat. Instead of collecting candy, he waits all night in a pumpkin patch. He refers to his devotion as sincerity. The Great Pumpkin respects sincerity.
         Alas, loyal Linus falls asleep outside never seeing his Great Pumpkin. This does not diminish his faith.
          I've always liked Schulz' portrayal of children. They blindly believe. They tease each other, yet support one another. They just continue to act as children. They accept their differences and oddities. At the end of the day, Linus' big sister Lucy still gets out of her bed to go rescue her blockhead brother shivering in the pumpkin patch. She clearly expresses her disapproval, but he's her brother, and all she can do is take care of the practical matters. Some people are born dreamers.

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