Holidays

I started to post this on Facebook, as a comment on a friend's post, but realized it was going to be too long. She said,

"I’m always bemused by those few who think that this time of year has always been and should only be about the celebration of their personal savior's birth -- those publicly decrying others who shamefully celebrate the season for other reasons or in a more secular fashion. The spirit of the holiday is being lost in the name of the spirit of the holiday.

Actually, their early church came late to the game -- usurping the sacred time and traditions of Druids, Romans, Scandinavians, and myriad other cultures celebrating the winter solstice -- that yearly turning point, bringing promise of the renewal of the cycle of life. 

I say, keep the win in winter.

It must be the agrarian mother cultist in me."

Hear, hear! Yes, I do celebrate Christmas. But the thing is…

First of all, the Santa Claus holiday has nothing to do with religion and, frankly, it annoys the heck out of me when people put up a Christmas tree, open presents and act like they're taking some kind of a stand for Christianity. The Santa holiday is secular, for all to celebrate, and doesn't mean you're endorsing any religious beliefs. It's about good will, for crying out loud, and everyone can support that, surely!

Secondly, if you're really approaching Christmas as a religious holiday, make sure you're doing something religious to celebrate. Going to church? Studying scripture in connection to Advent? (Which is NOT a festive time, BTW, it's a reminder that the world needed a savior because we were lost, drowning in sin. Uh, whoopee…?) Again, decorating a tree, wrapping presents…not religious.

And, while we're at it, Christmas isn't a big Christian holiday. Easter is the big one. Christmas celebrates Jesus being born, and everybody was born. If you believe that Jesus was who he said he was, then what you want to celebrate is the fact that he overcame death. (See, not everybody does that.) I've read that we actually started celebrating Christ's birth because there were all kinds of celebrations going on around the Winter Solstice anyway, and either we wanted to get in on the party or were trying a little under-the-table proselytizing. ("You have a party in December? You must be Christian! No, really, that's when Christians have parties, so….")

And, yes, okay, I can understand my friend Barry's objection to "holiday trees," and "holiday parties" that just happen to coincide with the Christmas season. He's Jewish and pretty religious, and he's not offended by other people celebrating Christmas but he doesn't celebrate it himself, not even when it's thinly disguised as non-Christian. His response to the reasoning in that first paragraph above is that the basis for Christmas is Christian. He gets that it's largely secular now, just like Valentine's Day or Halloween, but can't bring himself to join in. I can respect that, but…(keep reading).

Finally, could we all agree, no matter what our spiritual beliefs are, that it's nice to have one month a year when people think they ought to be nice to each other? Can we all get behind that? If you celebrate a holiday during that time, great. Happy whatever-is-appropriate-to-your-beliefs. If you don't celebrate any other holidays, then call it End of the Year Time of Reflection, or Beginning of a New Year of Hope and Opportunity. Just don't get your nose out of joint because other people don't believe the same thing you do.

As long as we all agree that the calendar changes and a new year starts in January, it's a worldwide holiday. Everybody gets to play. So unpucker and show a little good will.

Sorry for the long silence

Sorry to be away so long. I actually had posts for those last few days of November, but we were visiting my family in San Antonio, and I was having too much fun to take time to post.

Right now we're in the middle of Icegeddon, the second time in a few years that the DFW area (population 6.6 million) has gotten serious ice storms and been shut down. I'll be back when I have something to say that doesn't involve cursing. (My nerves—and Rich's—are starting to wear thin. If I disappear, he did it. If he disappears, he probably just ran off. Yeah, that's the ticket.)

Just one more day

This is the second time I've written this. If Blogger (or Safari or my ancient iPad, whichever is responsible) loses it this time, this is just going to be a blank page.

I'm afraid today I'm still focused on my funny, entertaining family. After spending the day with them, I'm still gratified and very thankful for how witty, warm and gracious they are. And we DO love to cook together! So, like, Thanksgiving is a pretty good time for us.

Tonight, Al heated up the ham left over from last night, Suzanne made a delicious kale salad with Caesar dressing, and I made…

Cindy's Savory Kugel von Turos Csusza

Ingredients:

16 oz noodles
4 (or more) slices of bacon
2 cups sour cream
1-1/2 cups cottage cheese
2–4 eggs

Garlic powder
Onion powder
Salt & pepper

Pinch of sweet smoked paprika

Directions:

Cook noodles to al dente stage, according to package directions. Drain and set aside. While noodles are boiling, cook bacon until crispy. Crumble and set aside.

Mix noodles with sour cream, egg(s), cottage cheese and bacon. Add garlic power, onion powder, salt & pepper to taste. Pour into a 2-qt baking dish. Sprinkle paprika on top.

Bake at 350 degrees for about half an hour.

And good luck with all of your Thanksgiving goodies tomorrow!

26th Day of Thanksgiving

…or T-minus just 2and counting.

Today I'm thankful for these people:



…well, I never could get them all grouped together to take a photo. Take my word for it, they're lovely, and a warm, witty bunch.

I'll try again tomorrow.

25th Day of Thanksgiving

T-minus 3 and counting! How did Thanksgiving get so close? Where was I?

Today I'm thankful for…you know, this is kind of hard. Not that I don't have a great plenty to be thankful for, it's just kind of hard to find a completely different thing every day for 28 days. When I start writing an entry and think, "Now, what am I thankful for?" I tend to come back to the same handful of things over and over: my health, my family (including the ones I married), the pets I love so much (and the fact that Biddy is doing so well), my good luck in being born and living in the circumstances I enjoy…that's just the basic good stuff. There's so much more that's just gravy!

So today I'm going to say I'm thankful for an embarrassment of riches when it comes to having things to be thankful for.

(No, that is not cheating!)

24th Day of Thanksgiving

I'm thankful that I get to be with family and friends on Thanksgiving. (And that Lydia & Jake will be taking care of our house and all our babies.)

Yeah, it's going to be short and sweet 'til I have a minute. Sorry!

So maybe I'm just going to do two every other day.

23rd Day of Thanksgiving, or T-minus 5 and counting. Yeah, I didn't get around to it yesterday.

So, yesterday I was thankful for changing seasons, and having some winter-like weather. Don't get me wrong—I've lived in the deep south all my life, and I'm very thankful for that (hey…!). But I do enjoy living in a place that gets snow a couple of times a year.

I could live without the sleet and ice storms.

Anyway, our plans have changed because of the winter storm moving in today. We had planned to leave for San Antonio tomorrow morning, but the roads are supposed to be icy most of the day tomorrow. So we'll be delaying 'til Tuesday. That was pretty good news, I guess, for the fabulous Lydia, our petsitter, and her husband Jake, who are gracious enough to move in while we're gone. (That makes all the difference in the world for us—for me—when we travel, knowing that they're here, especially since Biddy was so recently sick. And all our animals adore Lydia, so they're really happy about it, too!) On the one hand, she gets to sleep in her own bed for another night. On the other hand, she gets paid for one fewer days. Life is nothing but compromise, isn't it?

Anyway, I'm glad for some variation in weather, and the ice will clear up.

Everybody stay warm!

22nd Day of Thanksgiving, or T-minus 6 and counting

Today I'm thankful for humor. In fact, I'm pretty dependent on it.

I laugh a lot. I laugh at clever things, silly things, obscure things, absurd things. I look for humor, I find humor in everyday situations every day. More often, though, I find it without even looking. I guess you could say it finds me.

For example, a few days ago I had had a tiny eyelash floating around in my eye for about a day or so. I finally found it and got it out, and later that day I happened to touch my eye. I thought, "Oh, yeah. I had that eyelid in my eye, but finally got it out." Yes, 'eyelid' is what I thought. And that made me laugh for several minutes.

Yeah. Like to laugh, like that I can find things funny. My sister Linda and I have often commented that we're so easily amused that we sometimes seem simple, but we're happy. Fair tradeoff, I'd say.

So I'm grateful for that sense of humor, and being open to being amused. And speaking of amused…

Until today, the second-funniest thing I'd ever seen on or around an NHL bench took place in a game we attended in February, 2011, New Jersey Devils at the Dallas Stars. Our seats are on the penalty box side, so we're facing the benches, and by sheer chance I just happened to glance at the Devils' bench right at a shift change. The three players leaving the ice went in through the door, and the three coming on the ice stepped over the half wall. (They do that all the time, if you're not familiar.) This time, though, all three players coming over the wall caught a skate or something, and all three of them tripped and tumbled onto the ice, at the same time. It was amazing, and I remember thinking, "Well, that's not something you see every day!" I've search high and low for video that might have caught it, but haven't found anything. So just take a moment and picture it….

The funniest thing, until today, was this gem. We're Marty Turco fans anyway, and this kind of thing is just one of the many reasons. (And it's not that Marty Turco didn't close the door. He opened the door.)

Cracks me up! Also kind of cracked Polak up, too.

But today, both those moved down a place. This is now #1. I saw it on Sean McIndoe's excellent entry on the excellent sports blog, Grantland.

Here's the full post. And he's right: I've watched it about fifty times and I'm still laughing out loud. (This is Sean's own blog and, BTW, you should buy his book. Hockey and humor. What could be better than that?)

Take a moment to laugh, this Friday afternoon, and be thankful for it. I am!

21st Day of Thanksgiving

I'm very thankful for all the resources with which I've been blessed. God knows they're a pure gift—I haven't earned them!

But I am grateful, and I'll do my best to use them wisely.

20th Day of Thanksgiving (T-minus 8 and counting)

Today I'm thankful for Not-Net.

Years ago, my friend and business acquaintance, Joe Paul, started a networking group. It met at 7am every Wednesday morning, and participants would have breakfast and network — talk about their business, develop strategy, make contacts, set goals, and like that. I became a member, and we met every week at Central Market Café in Southlake. It was called NorthEast Tarrant Networking, or Net-Net.

After a few years, the group kind of petered out (I think most networking groups have a lifespan and this one had just run its course). Joe bowed out, and the rest of us weren't sure whether we were going to continue or not. I decided I was going to use that time to blog (if you read some of my very early entries, you'll catch references to all this), so I announced that I'd be coming to breakfast at the same time and place as always, and anyone who wanted to was welcome to join me.

There turned out to be five of us who kept coming: Debbie Clark, Barry Klompus, Linda Montgomery, Dorothy Culberson and me. We talked about our businesses some, but mostly it quickly became breakfast with friends. We started moving around. (There's a flurry of emails and texts back and forth on Tuesday night, as we decide where we're going.) Our meeting time moved back, and I now set my alarm for 7am Wednesday mornings, the time we used to need to be there.

Eventually we dubbed the group Not-Net.

The five of us became incredibly close. It's hard to say how close we would have been if it hadn't been for that regular meeting. But we had that, and we became such good friends. It was like therapy, getting together for a few hours every week with these people I value so much! It did and still does wonderful things for my outlook on life, and was a very important part of my week.

But, as all things do, things changed. Dorothy moved to San Antonio to be near her aging mother. Linda's husband got the job offer of a lifetime in Los Angeles, where they had lived before the Metroplex, and they moved back. Barry, Debbie and I still meet, though, and—I hope—will continue to meet.

We've been through and gotten each other through a lot. Facing cancer, the loss of loved ones, layoffs, new jobs, slow economies, family crises, crazy relatives and more of life's difficulties, we've given each other lots of laughs, neverending support and encouragement—and every now and then some silliness.

So thanks Barry & Debbie! Thanks, Linda & Dorothy! (We miss y'all so much!) You're something I'm very, very thankful for!

19th Day of Thanksgiving

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I forgot again.

Today (or yesterday) I am (or was) thankful for the education I was fortunate to receive. I didn't always take advantage of it the way I could and should have, but it was there.

I went to kindergarten (circa the dawn of time) at the First Baptist Church of Prichard (Alabama). Then 1st through 4th grades at Glendale Elementary, across the street and down the block from our house. I just read online that Glendale closed in 2008, and they announced three years ago that it would be torn down. I'm guessing it's gone now, but it was a nice school way back when.

It looked better before it was painted white & boarded up. BTW, do you see those steps? When I went to school there, the "handrails," the concrete slabs angled down on either side, represented a major milestone of childhood: you had to be big enough and have enough nerve to slide down them. (I never did. We moved away before I developed nerve.)

In 1966, after I finished 4th grade, my family moved to San Antonio, and I finished elementary school at Thunderbird Hills Elementary. I walked there, most days. According to Google Maps, it's only a mile. It felt longer. (My favorite teacher there—possibly my favorite teacher of all—was Mrs. Slovacek in the 5th grade.)

After that, Sul Ross Jr. High (yes, children, that's what it was called in those days). It was a good enough school, I guess. My memories of it are hazy, my brain awash with a tsunami of hormones. Adolescence was not an easy time for me. I owe a great deal of thanks to all the teachers and staff at Sul Ross back then, for allowing me to continue living.

High school was Oliver Wendell Holmes. It's the round one. Obviously built in the 60s, "the round one" is how everybody identified it. It was (and I'll bet still is) a school joke to tell freshmen to go to the end of the hall and turn right. See, round school…halls don't have an end…uh, okay, moving on…

My spotty college career started right after high school at Angelo State University, studying Theatre. After a year there, my parents decided to move back to Mobile, so I transferred to the University of South Alabama, where I took every Theatre course they offered, then dropped out. That was College, Part 1.

Years passed. I moved back to San Antonio, went to work and eventually got married. My well-employed new husband asked if I wanted to finish my degree. I got copies of all my transcripts, took them around to all the colleges and universities in San Antonio (there are a bunch), saying, "Here's what I've got. I don't care what I major in. How fast can I graduate?"

So College, Part 2, began at Our Lady of the Lake (where an admissions officer casually mentioned that my ACT scores would have gotten me a full scholarship if I had gone there after high school—as I entered the last few years of paying off my student loans). I quit my job and enrolled. Rich got laid off three weeks later. But, since he had seen the handwriting on the wall, he had already applied at Southwest Research Institute, and started work three weeks after I started class. Yeah, sometimes things work out.

BTW, going back to school made me want to kick myself for the way I did things in Part 1. I discovered that ninety percent of making good grades—possibly more than that, really—is showing up and following the instructions. And, also, no matter how I tried, I simply couldn't make my school work take up eight hours a day, every day. I'd read and re-read and take notes and do assignments and RE-read…and five hours would have passed. It might have been different if I had been studying medicine or nuclear physics or something, but the fact is that going to school (just going to school, to be clear, I was NOT working at the same time) is not the same as a full time job.

See that flat area between the buildings? That's a second-story
 courtyard, and I spent many happy hours there, studying. There's a
big loquat tree on the other side, away from the camera, and you could
tell how far down students could reach by how far up the ripe loquats
stopped. Loved that spot!

A year and a half and $8000 later, I finally graduated. I have a degree in Media Communications, from the last year they offered it as a degree. (I also had a minor in—what else?—Theatre, and possibly History, too, because it turned out I had taken a bunch of history classes. Go figure.)

Having a college degree has opened doors for me, and it actually happens to be in something that I've found myself working in over and over. So I'm grateful for the opportunities I've had—even though I wasn't quite astute enough to take full advantage of them.

My very clever niece could have easily graduated from high school early, but said, "It's a free education. Why wouldn't I get as much out of it as I can?"

Wow. Wish I had been that smart!

Friends

Today, the 18th Day of Thanksgiving (T-minus 10 and counting), I'm thankful for friends. I've had (and have) some dynamite ones!

Tina, who shared my childhood. Nancy, who grew up with me (we were besties in high school and were in each other's weddings, and kept in touch all those year since then — even before Facebook). Cindy N., Kathy, Pam, Chuck, Robin, Linda C., Linda G., Diana, Cindy W., Patti, Erik, Hessu, Matti, Galen, Rusty, Jean, Wendell, Nicole, Carol, Barbara, Lisa, Mary, Joan, Mike, Elizabeth, Jen, Maria, Carolyn, Bob, Elaine, Connie…how could one possibly list everybody you've ever considered a friend?

It's a fortunate life when you've been lucky enough to know so many good and great people to share your life and times with. And I'm thankful for that!

The Founder's Chapel

On this, the 17th Day of Thanksgiving (T-minus 11 and counting), I'm thankful for the Founder's Chapel at White's Chapel UMC.

White's Chapel is a very large United Methodist church, the only one in Southlake. It's too big for me, and I have some problems with how they spend their money, but the Founder's Chapel…oh, the Founder's Chapel!

Small, simple. Beautiful. Talented and dedicated musicians, faithful lay leaders, readers and ushers, a small but above average congregation. (Okay, the pastor joked about it today, relating this: the lovely woman who leads the singing asked him if he wanted to review the service before it began. He said, "Well, is there something extraordinary about it?" She said, "Besides me? No." He had to agree with her that she is, and then went on to tell us that the Founder's Chapel is White's Chapel's Lake Wobegon.) We take communion every week, they ring an actual church bell at the beginning and end of the service. Plus we're outta there by 10:30am!

We have a different associate pastor preaching each month, and they cancel our service anytime there's anything else going on. But it's a fine, personal, get-down-to-basics service. (And at White's Chapel, where everything tends to be an extravaganza, that's doing something.)

So I'm thankful that I found it. And that might be me sitting on the right side in the photo…:)

16th Day of Thanksgiving

Seriously, I wrote this yesterday, on the 16th. After a lengthy pause to go search for the quote, I kept working on it, then stopped when it got to be time to make dinner. I thought, "I'll come back later and put in all the links." Uh, no. I remembered it after I was already in bed. (But, anyway, I'm going to count it as being timely.)


Today I'm thankful that I learned how to knit.

I've been looking, fruitlessly, for a quote (I believe from one of my very favorite writers, Peg Bracken) that explains one aspect of it. She (I think it was her) was telling about a woman who talked about the quilts she pieced together by hand. The woman said that those quilts contained a whole lot of anger, hurt feelings, disappointment and whatever other negative emotions she had been experiencing when she sat down to work on them. Somehow, working on the quilt took all that away. Exactly. It can be a very Zen thing.

 People who don't knit (and, yes, we do call them muggles) often say, "Oh, I don't have the patience to do that." They've got it backwards. The patience comes from doing it.

And you end up with simply bitchin' gifts, particularly baby gifts. The items themselves might not be great—might not even be good, and I've given some of those myself—but as the wise and hysterically funny Jeanne Robertson points out, "You get a lot more credit if you make it yourself." She was talking about food, but the same thing applies to baby booties or hats or anything that the recipient doesn't actually register for at Babies R Us. They know you were thinking of them, even if it's something they may not use. (And, seriously, they're going to use bibs and diaper covers like crazy, and knitted ones are actually extremely functional. Go ahead. Just make it out of cotton and try not to make it too ugly.)

Finally, it's useful. I believe I've mentioned before, knitting has less to do with grandma sitting in her rocking chair than it does the preppers and people choosing to live off the grid. We know how to make things. Many, many knitters and crocheters branch out to spinning and weaving, and we do tend to get into hunting and raising chickens and canning and otherwise living a little more self-sufficiently than the general population. We know how to make stuff, and we know what a good thing that is. (After the apocalypse, only knitters will have socks. I think I've mentioned that before.)

I think—I vaguely remember—my grandmother teaching me how to knit when I was about eight years old. It didn't stick. I tried to teach myself many years later, when my mother was in the hospital for about six weeks, and I was spending most days with her. That didn't really stick, either. It wasn't until many years (again) later, in 2005, when I took a class at Michael's, that I actually learned. (BTW, the class was $15 for two hours, and I was the only person in it. I paid $15 for a 2-hour private lesson. You can't beat that!)

That time, it stuck. I took off. I knitted scarves, hats, slippers, gloves, mittens, afghans, more scarves, shawls, stuffed animals, more hats…everyone I know has gotten something knitted as a gift.

I love my little Stitch 'n' Bitch group. We meet at Cafe Express on the first, third and (if there is one) fifth Thursdays of the month. Despite the name, we're a group of nice women who support and like each other. Feel free to join us. We'll teach you!

It satisfies me. It keeps my hands busy. It helps me get over things I need to get over, and I end up with something tangible afterward. I'm very glad I learned to knit!

15th Day of Thanksgiving (T-minus 13 and counting)

Today (or, actually, tonight) I'm thankful for a quiet, cozy home life. I know a lot of people like to go out, and we go out sometimes (mostly to hockey and baseball games, because I can't help myself), but I really, truly enjoy spending time at home.

I've always been something of a homebody, even when I was dancing with Fire on the Mountain, and averaged 150 shows a year. I loved it, and cherish the experience, but I do love my time at home, too. Fortunately, Rich feels the same. (I guess, though, we probably wouldn't have ended up married if he didn't, right?)

So tonight we'll be having homemade chili (both red and white), then hunkering down on the couch with all the animals snoozing around us, watching TV. Rich will no doubt also be pondering and (using his iPad) reading up on a problem a client has asked him to help solve (I pointed out to him today that's one of the drawbacks of being smart—people come to you for answers), and I'll be knitting. I just realized that, in addition to the new team color gloves we both need, I have a couple of Christmas gifts to get done, so I have some serious knitting time coming.

It's not just an okay evening. It makes me happy. Really and truly happy.

And thankful!

Dang it!

All right, I forgot AGAIN. Dang it!

So, let's say that yesterday, the 14th day of Thanksgiving (or T-minus 14 and counting, man I'm sorry I missed that), I was thankful for the Interwebs. It's useful.

Personal computers were just becoming commonplace when I was twenty-something. I actually learned how to use a terminal on the UTHSCSA's mainframe, and I would tell you all about it if I could remember that far back.* I quit that job in 1987 to go back to school, and my electrical engineer husband built me my very first personal computer (with a 12" VGA monitor!) to use for writing papers. The first modem I remember using was a 9600 baud, and was the envy of some of my tech-savvy friends.

But today I use Facebook to keep up with old friends and some relatives I don't get to see very often, so much so that I feel like I'm involved in their lives. I get information and news from Twitter. I do research (for money) on it, I compare all kinds of goods before I order something and have it delivered right to my door, and I can find out for sure if Jabo's Hardware has a dowel the size I need before I bother driving there (at TalkTo.com; you should try it). I see photos of enchanting gardens in all kinds of exotic places all over the world, search thousands of knitting patterns to find the one with the exact details I want. I find out where else we've seen that woman from that episode of Elementary¹, what started the fire in Milford, whether Sarah Michelle Gellar's second child was a boy or girl², who it was Jamie Benn collided with last night³, and what the heck is up with Rob Ford⁴.

It's an amazing world. And I'm thankful I get to see it.


*Really, all I remember is that the various machines were named after Lord of the Rings characters. So you worked on Frodo or Bilbo, etc. Yeah, those were the days.

¹ Independence Day.
² Boy
³ Hudler
⁴ Oy!

13th Day of Thanksgiving (T-Minus 15 and counting)

And you thought I was going to forget! (Again.)

Today I'm grateful that my little Bidula is doing much, much better. We have one more appointment for sub-q fluids, on Saturday, which will be her seventh appointment in thirteen days, and every penny I've billed this month will just about cover her vet bills, but she's much better.

And, really, I can't tell you how thankful I am for that!

She's on a special kind-to-the-kidneys diet now, so now the three cats eat three different foods in, of course, three different rooms. And Rocky has been trying to make me lose my mind, resisting that. He's all affectionate in between feedings, but come time to coax him out of the kitchen and into the master bathroom to eat, he disappears.

Rocky, not hiding from me at mealtime. Yes, they DO look alike.

Well, he did, at least. He's finally starting to understand that we're not actually planning to kill him once we get him in there (that must be what he thought, judging by the way he was acting). So we're getting back into a routine, and Biddy is feeling better and acting like her old self.

So, whew! And thank God!*











*And thank Garry O'Neal of Golden Triangle Animal Hospital, for his expertise and kindness. Both he and Steve Ruffner are great, and everyone even remotely near GTAH should take their animals to them. Seriously.

Oops

Uh, so for the 12th Day of Thanksgiving (yesterday)…

Okay, I forgot. I even looked at this stupid blog a few times and it just never registered I needed to mention something I'm thankful for. So now….

For yesterday, I'll say that I'm thankful for all the good people in the world. In particular, the ones who work tirelessly to help animals who are abused and neglected. I couldn't do it, myself — the grief and anger at how cruel and stupid some people can be would overwhelm me, and I'd have a gun pointed at them or myself in no time flat. But I'm very, very grateful that others are willing to take it on, and I support them as much as I can.

(Speaking of which, Noah's Arks Rescue in Okatie, SC, is a great one! If you click here every day during the Shelter Challenges, they have a chance to get a sizable donation. The site will even send you reminders every day. Please click for them!)

These people are so good, and so knowledgeable! They have incredible patience, as well as resilience, perseverance and commitment. It takes a certain personality, a particular type of person, to do it. And that's true of so many things! Hospice workers, who tenderly stand by their patients at their most vulnerable. Some politicians (I know, I know, but I'm acquainted with a few local politicians who actually serve because they feel like they can do some good). Oncologists. "Community leaders," the ones who keep charities and good causes going, who go to endless meetings and spend countless hours doing things that solve problems for other people, just because it needs to be done. Aid workers who go all over the world to help recover and rebuild after disasters. Pediatric medicine specialists. I once knew a United Methodist pastor who was a retired pediatric intensive care nurse, and I asked her if she couldn't have just hit herself in the head with a hammer instead. She responded that throughout her career she had received so much more than she had ever given.

That. That type of person.

That's what I'm thankful for. I'm emphatically not one of them, myself, but I'm infinitely grateful that they exist and that they do what they do.

These people might just be the reason that good keeps outweighing bad in the world, even if sometimes it's just barely. They're there, and I'm thankful for them.

11th Day of Thanksgiving, plus baked ziti

Today I'm thankful that my late mother was such a good cook. I know that's the reason I became a good cook, too, and that's something I've really enjoyed.

Truth be told, I believe I care way more about it than she did. I think she found it gratifying to cook good food, especially for her loved ones, but I don't think you could have classified her as a foodie or anything. (Though, really, if she had had more leisure time to spend exploring food, and if all the options we have today were open to her, she might have been. There were, literally, only two foods she said she just didn't like: head cheese and hominy. Someone like that seems perfect for sampling and appreciating new cuisines, right?)

In any case, I've always been impressed by my mother's cooking. She made great holiday and special occasion meals, and spectacular candy & cookies, but the thing that strikes me as most remarkable is the sheer number of nightly dinners she prepared. Every week night, she came home from work and got an excellent dinner on the table within about an hour. Every night. For, oh, maybe forty years…?

I truly never really appreciated what an accomplishment that was until I had spent a while doing it myself.

So today, I'm grateful that I had her example, and her level of quality, to aspire to. And today I also made Baked Ziti. Oy, did I make baked ziti!

I normally make casseroles (the quantity that's designed to cook in a 9"x13" pan) and divide it into two pans. I cook one that night, and freeze the other, so we have a future meal stored away in the freezer (almost as good as money in the bank, I tell you what). For some reason, this batch of ziti kind of expanded.

Well, I had half a pound of home-ground pork in the fridge, in addition to the pound of ground beef I normally use, so I threw that in. And we had half an opened half jar of Classico, ditto, in addition to the two full jars I usually use. And I found some black olives, and since I had opened and chopped up one of the 1-pound balls of Costco mozzarella and it didn't seem like quite enough, I went ahead and opened the other ball. One thing kind of led to another, and I ended up with three casserole pans full. (It really probably could have stretched to four, since I couldn't put any of the slightly-concave lids on.) Two of them are in the freezer right now, and we'll be having the third one (the one in the Pyrex dish) for dinner. After the two in the Glad SimplyCooking OvenWare 8x8 Pans freeze solid, I'll pop them out of their pan and vacuum seal them to freeze until we're ready to have Baked Ziti again. Seriously, good as money in the bank!

(BTW, I would have taken photos of the ziti project, but I was so astonished by the seemingly ever-expanding volume that I forgot. Next time—which will probably be in about eight months!)

Tenth day of Thanksgiving

…or T-minus 18 and counting.

Today I'm grateful for the freedoms we take for granted here in the U.S. of A. I'm free to spout whatever nonsense I please, including the harshest criticism of any elected officials, and to try and persuade everybody else to agree with me, as long as I don't place anyone in danger by doing so. I can vote, I can walk about freely wherever I want (ditto about putting anyone in danger), I can count on law enforcement not being able to just bust in and haul me off (or plunder through all my belongings) without a good reason, one that they've gotten a judge to agree with. And if I am arrested, they can't keep me confined just because they don't like me (and I promise you, they wouldn't). All those are very good things.*

And, like everything else, they have a price.

Tomorrow is Veterans Day. Buy a vet a cup of coffee, make a donation to the USO, do something to let the people who have served know that we understand the cost, and realize that—for most of us—we're not the ones who had to pay it.

If you are or were in the military, thank you for your service. Let us know if there's anything we can do for you.

The rest of us…just be thankful. I certainly am.


*Do you know what the Bill of Rights says? It came up recently, and I was surprised to realize that I know a few of them (1st amendment, 2nd, 4th, 5th and 6th), but I was fairly clueless about the rest. Quick, name them!

9th Day of Thanksgiving

…or T-minus 19 and counting. Tee-hee.

Today I'm thankful that I became a sports fan.

I came to love sports relatively late in life. I was in my early forties when I got involved in a new ministry at my church. At the time (in the late 90s) I lived in northwest San Antonio, and went to church at Oxford United Methodist Church. It's a long story, which I'll share/inflict on you some other time, but I ended up in charge of a group that entertained a group of pregnant women once a month. We did crafts or took them out to eat, or various things, and somehow we ended up with a bunch of free tickets to a San Antonio Iguanas game. The group went…and I absolutely LOVED it. I went back all by myself, entranced enough with the game to drive across town and sit alone. Loved. it.

After we moved to the Metroplex, we went to a (then) Fort Worth Brahmas game. I loved that, too. Sometime later Nokia, where Rich was employed, offered its employees half price tickets to a Dallas Stars game. We went. I was in heaven. Rich said, "You know, you enjoy this so much, we should do it again." Cut to the present, where we've had full season tickets for some years now.

And I still love it.

We don't see as many baseball games, maybe two a month or so. We haven't been to any Mavs games, but I've seen the Spurs play a few times (fantastic!), and I'd happily go to a Cowboys game if someone else would finance it. I watch them all (plus soccer) on TV, loving it and grateful that I developed this surprising (to me) interest that I enjoy SO much, even if it did take me a while to get around to it.

So mwah, Stars! Mwah, Texas Rangers! Mwah, Spurs (and Mavs)! Mwah, Cowboys! Thanks for all the good times! I am thankful!

8th Day of Thanksgiving

(Okay, so I guess I've decided to stick to that format, at least for the moment.)

Today I'm grateful for the peaceful, safe community in which I live. Southlake is a small town (27,706 people) in a very large Metroplex (6.6 million people). When I first moved here, I often remarked that it had all the inconveniences of a small town plus all the inconveniences of a big city, all rolled into one. Now I'd have to say the reverse.

The DFW Metroplex is a big city, with a lot of big city advantages (for example and of particular interest to me, teams in all big league sports). Yet Southlake is pretty much a small town, and has some of the nicest facets of small town life: people care about the community. The economy is stable. Crime pretty much stays under control. We citizens have relatively a lot to say about what life will be like in our little corner of the world. And quality of life is a genuine consideration in making decisions about the town's future.

Mostly, though, I pretty much don't have to worry about stray bullets. That's a lot.

So I'm grateful for the circumstances—one of which is that I've been just plain lucky—that led me to live here instead of many other places in the world.

The view from our carport. Yes, I'm lucky!

I'm glad I know her

It's the 7th Day of Thanksgiving, and my mother-in-law's birthday!

I'm thankful that I've had the chance to know her. We didn't start out all that smoothly. Rich was recently divorced when we met, and his whole family thought he was re-marrying too soon. (We're married 27 years now. Ha, and nyeh!) I have to say Dorothy and I had a guarded relationship for many years, but a few years ago we finally kind of became friends. And I value her, and her experience and unique perspective, so much!

She was born Dorothy Kiolbasa, to a family who had come to the U.S. from Poland and Bohemia (which was an actual country then, and not just a lifestyle). Born and raised in Chicago, she met and married Joe Osman, and the two of them moved into his parents' basement apartment. Her own mother-in-law welcomed her with open arms, and the young couple lived there until they bought their first house. (And, BTW, I'm sorry I never got to meet Grandma Osman. She sounds like a woman I would have enjoyed knowing! I'll tell you a few stories about her sometime.)

Dorothy worked for IBM in Chicago doing and training others in key punch, and did pretty much the same thing at Brachs Candy Company. She raised two boys with a husband who was a traveling salesman (no, really!). She and Joe scrimped and saved for years, planning to and eventually buying their own business. She recalls Saturday nights from that time when they'd be sitting on the front porch watching people drive by, on their way to a night out, when she and Joe weren't even willing to spend the money to go to the movies. That's how serious they were about their future. BTW, those people who were driving by later wondered how the two of them had saved enough to buy their own business. Answer: If you don't spend money, you have more of it for later. (You might want to write that down somewhere.)

Taken at Costco. Dorothy LOVES Costco.

They bought a hardware store in Scottsbluff, Nebraska, when Rich was 16, moving there from Chicago. They worked together to run it, enjoying the store but not small-town life. (They also brought a percolator home from the store, which they still use every day.) They kept the store—which must have been profitable enough, I guess—for a couple of years, then sold it and bought Schlosser Tool & Machinery in Denver. They both worked there until they retired, and enjoy Denver a lot (except for the high-altitude cooking; it takes 45 minutes to boil potatoes, which is really ridiculous if you ask me).

Dorothy has always loved to ski, which might have something to do with how she's felt about Denver. She told me recently, "Skiing down a mountain, the cold wind blowing in my face…that's the best feeling in the world." She's had some health issues that have made Joe concerned enough about falls to resist (like an immovable object) going skiing the last few years. Personally, I'm campaigning for her to ski again, with some appropriate assistance. We have to learn to work around our health difficulties. When I had breast cancer, between my mastectomy and reconstruction, while I was having to stuff one side of my (very large) brassiere, Dorothy suggested my new nickname should be Won Hung Low. (Yes, I did laugh at that, long and loud.) One adjusts but keeps going.

She's always had a gift for knowing things that were going to happen, and the whole family (me included) has always taken her "hunches" very seriously. She once told Joe, as they were leaving for a vacation, that she would be coming back lying down (she sustained a broken pelvis in a car wreck while they were traveling and was transported home by ambulance), and that they wouldn't be using the boat he was working to get ship shape, at least not for the weekend outing they had invited people to (his mother died that night). Because of her, and her uncanny accuracy, I learned to respect my own hunches and gut feelings. If it's nagging at me, bothering me, there's a reason. Pay attention!

They both love to travel, and have been more places than I even have the nerve to hope to see, but it's getting harder now that they're getting older. She's done bunka (a Japanese form of needlework) for decades, and until just recently taught classes in it at the local community center. She's taught me some things in the kitchen (I think about her every time I make grilled sandwiches, and she has a couple of fantastic cranberry salad recipes), and a few things about growing old. I'm glad we get along now, and I look forward to seeing her, though I don't make it up there as often as I'd like.

So today, I'm thankful for the family I married into, and the mother-in-law who—I hope!—got a nearly-daughter out of the deal.

6th Day of Thanksgiving

First of all, Biddy is feeling much better, thank you for asking. Unfortunately, though, the x-rays they took last night show a couple of things that could be very bad news, indeed. They're going to repeat the x-rays tomorrow, so hopefully we'll find out more. (Please, if you would, say another prayer or two for her.)

Okay, then. Today I'm thankful that I'm living in such amazing times! For all the bad things in the world, and the progress-run-amuck, I still think that having antibiotics and cars that can parallel park themselves is, all in all, a very good thing.

Not every discovery is really an advancement, and not every step forward takes us someplace better, necessarily. But we move forward. And the good things, I think, outnumber the bad.*

In any case, I'm glad to be here to see all this happening!


*Like this, for example. I mean, really, who would have ever thought we could come up with this?

And speaking of cats…

Does anybody else have a cat who loves plants? I mean, "loves" as in to eat? Rocky, who started out as about the saddest of all our hard luck cases, can't get enough plant matter. If I don't feed him some kind of greenery fairly regularly, he chews on the house plants. Every now and then, like this morning, I walk into the master bathroom and discover my windowsill African violet and orchid farm looks like it's been ravaged. Rocky…!

Cats are true carnivores, eating only meat, and needing the quantity of protein that comes from eating only meat. (Dogs, on the other hand, are omnivores like us, and can't survive on nothing but meat. They'll get rickets and such.) But I've read that big cats who hunt herbivores (antelopes, zebras, dik-diks, whatever) often eat the contents of their prey's stomach, sort of like having a salad with your meal. (Honestly, that's actually how the article described it.)

I can't swear to that, but I can tell you that at least this one housecat loves his greens. A little while ago, I was separating the not-so-fresh green onions from the perfectly-useable green onions, and Rocky was absolutely incensed that I wouldn't give him any. You can't give cats (or dogs) onions, they're toxic. Finally, though, I had to grab some lettuce and a couple of spinach leaves from the fridge, so he'd calm down. He ate it all.

I realize he's quirky, but how big a freak is this little guy? Anybody?

T-minus 23

…or, the 5th Day of Thanksgiving. (I warned you. I like them both, so I'll use them both!)

Today I'm thankful for a (relatively) good report on Biddy. In fact, I guess that, relatively speaking, it's a great report. Her heart, liver, thyroid and pancreas are all okay. She has renal pyelonephritis, a bad kidney infection, and hopefully that's what's causing her symptoms—and hopefully it won't leave any permanent kidney damage after it's gone.

She's not acting like she's feeling great, but she's not acting
like she's feeling terrible anymore, either. I'll take it!

The good news is that she's acting more like normal, coming out of hiding and wanting to eat and be petted. The bad news is that she doesn't much like being handled and we'll be treating this infection for about six weeks. So sad, Biddula, but you'll get used to it. (I find that most animals, if you treat them kindly overall, will get used to taking regular baths or having to take meds or being confined or facing other things that they might otherwise find disagreeable, once they get used to it. It's not knowing what's going on that they object to. And you can't really blame them. After all, I prefer to know what's going on; don't you?)

Does that really count as something separate from yesterday? Well, just in case, I'll add this: I'm thankful that something inside me changed, somehow, somewhere along the line, and I became a serious animal lover. Having the pets we've had, and loving them the way I have, has added a whole new dimension to my life and to me, as a person. I have to assume this feeling is a pale reflection of what it feels like to have kids. (We were never so fortunate.) The pleasure at seeing them happy, the worry and fear when they're sick or hurt, the satisfaction at taking care of them and providing what they need. It means something, in the overall scheme of things, I think.

So I'm thankful for all my four-legged family members. And their continuing good health!

4th Day of Thanksgiving

I have a feeling I'll be going back and forth between #th Day of and T-Minus. I like them both.

Today I'm thankful for our pets. We've had many cats and dogs since we've been married, and I've loved them all quite unreasonably. Right now we're fortunate enough to have two dogs who are both happy all the time, and three cats. The cats are quirky and have tons of personality and, for the most part, demand attention. (No aloof cats at our house. Ever.)

Biddy, though, is sick. Very sick. We're waiting on results of her bloodwork to see what's going on, and what we can do about it, but she's very sick. Say a prayer for her, okay? (I know some people think that's silly. I won't tell you what I think of those people, and that's really very virtuous of me. Maybe even Christian.)

So all of them, since they're here for me to love with all my heart. And I do. But especially Biddy, right now. Please help me worry about and pray for her!

T-minus 25 days

Yeah, that seems a little more fitting.

Today I'm thankful for the nice, stable family in which I was raised. Parents who loved us and took good care of us. Large, familiar extended family, some of whom were a little crazy, but we're southern, so that's part of the package.* They weren't perfect, but neither was I. We all** knew how to forgive, forget and move on. And we faced everything that came along the same way: together.


*One of my cousins and her then-young husband were watching The Newlywed Game years ago. The question put to the husbands was, "What would you say is the predominant characteristic of your wife's family?" Jerry thought about it for a minute, then said, "I can't decide whether it would be big hips or insanity." Too true, too true….

**Okay, there are one or two of us who have proven fairly spectacular at holding a grudge, but those are isolated character defects. Let's move on.

Day 2 of Thanksgiving

Wouldn't it be more accurate to say T-minus-26?

Anyway…today I'm thankful for Richie, who does many, many things in and for my life (quite a few of them really very good)!

Day 1 of Thanksgiving

It's not that long after midnight, so I'm going to count this as the 1st. Today I'm grateful for the health I enjoy. It's much, much better than I deserve!

Happy Sunday

Sitting in church this morning, I happened to think of a few things that stressed me out. (Yes, ironic. Isn't church supposed to be calming, comforting?) After getting home, I decided to spend the rest of the day relaxing and rejuvenating, and getting prepared to deal with the stressful things this coming week.

Why, yes—that does mean I decided to just ignore those things for the rest of the day.

So, this…


And this…



And maybe this…

Then, later on, this…


Happy Sunday, everybody.

Mmmm…

I read the Foodie With Family blog faithfully (really, love her!), and last week she posted this about Bo Ssäm (Korean Pork Roast Lettuce Wraps). It looked so luscious, and I'm all about the putting the meat on at a low temperature and letting it cook all day thing*, so I was hooked. I've also been thinking lately that I need to branch out from my usual pork meals:

• Grilled pork chops
• Smothered pork chops
• Pork loin roast

They're good, mind you. In fact, the pork loin roast is practically heaven on earth when it's cooked slowly, and the source of some pretty good pulled pork the next day. It's just that they've become The Usual, and not all that interesting. I wanted something new.

I also had, once upon a time, a most delectable piece of pork at Smith & Wollensky (I think it was the one in Las Vegas). It was their Crackling Pork Shank, and it looked like a whole roast, served on a plate in front of just me. It was tender, flavorful and succulent.

I wanted to make something like that. So I looked for a pork shoulder at the grocery store.

By the greatest coincidence, Kroger had them on sale this past week for $1.49 a pound. That's not outrageously cheap, judging from the price Foodie with Family Rebecca pays, but it's pretty good. I cooked a 7+ lb roast for less than $11, and that's going to end up being four meals for the two of us. I sprinkled it with sage, thyme, garlic powder, onion granules, fresh rosemary, salt and pepper, and rubbed it all in. I had planned on cooking it right then, but I realized that time had kind of gotten away from me, so I had to postpone it a day. Which meant, of course, that it sat in the fridge overnight, tightly covered, absorbing the herb flavors and getting better and better. I cooked it the next day, at 300°F, covered for about five hours, then uncovered for about another hour or so, until the internal temperature reached 190°. Then I let it rest while the kugel baked.**

I would have taken pictures of it, but after smelling it cooking for several hours I didn't have that kind of time.

It was so good, I can't even explain. This was without the Bo Saäm crispy sweet-and-salty crust, just the crisped-up layer of fat and the flavorful juices. It was pull-apart tender, and so very, very good that we stuffed ourselves, then sliced off a few pieces for sandwiches. I'll be pulling the rest of it apart in a few minutes to make pulled-pork sandwiches tonight. I make the post-pork-loin variety of pulled pork by simmering it in barbeque sauce, but with this I think I'll just reduce the pan drippings and see what happens. Something good, I'll wager.

Incidentally, Foodie with Family also has several informative entries (see, I really do read it faithfully) about grinding up pork shoulder, and using the resulting ground pork to make Italian sausage (nice enough to have around) and chorizo (one of the staples of life). Yes, you can buy ground pork, but this is $1.49 a pound. Plus I know for sure and certain exactly what's gone into it.

I went back to Kroger and bought three more of the shoulders. I'll let you know how it goes.



*Ever since I saw Adelle Davis on the Tonight Show, or some such thing, when I was a teenager, all the way to this very day. That's another story, and it's a little bit interesting. Remind me to tell you sometime.

**FYI, the rest of the menu was my own variation on Kugel von Túrós csusza, Alton Brown's 10 Minute Apple Sauce, and sauerkraut (not homemade, but I have plans in that direction). It was good!

Hockey post: Did you SEE this?!?

(Former Stars) Goalie Mike Smith made his first career goal last night. It's a beauty, and the fact that it's against Detroit only makes it better!

Women (or woman) and drinking

According to a report just on ABC News, four or more drinks in less than two hours is binge drinking. According to me, it's flirting with unconsciousness.

Now, I'm no lightweight when it comes to drinking (and in several other senses, as well), but I feel like I'm knocking it back pretty hard if I have three drinks in under two hours. And, BTW, I also have a pretty good buzz at that point. Four or more?!?

At Stars games, there's a guy who used to sit in the row ahead of us, who brought dates to the games. His dates were all little bitty women, and they all had a couple of large beers during the game. Considering that beer sales stop during the third period, that means they probably drank what ABC News would call four drinks (two big glasses) in a little less than two hours.

The reason I mention it is that if I drank that much, that fast, I wouldn't be able to walk to the car afterwards. Even if I were still awake!

Maybe I'm more moderate than I realize…?

No, no, no!

Four squirrels. Not one. Four. (Or possibly rats. I'm just going by the long skeleton tails.) Apparently I was running a squirrel-killing machine out there and didn't realize it.

Sorry! So sorry. And if there's a squirrel hell, I'm in big trouble.

I went looking because Andy came back in the house last night crunching on something unspeakable. When I told him to drop it (thank God he obeyed) and I looked at it, I could see what appeared to be loosely-connected little forearm bones. Ick. It was lying on the living room carpet, and I told the dogs something to the effect of there not being enough noes in the world to make them understand what I meant.

So now, a revolting half hour later, all (I hope) the squirrel remains are in their plastic bag coffins (or, I guess, Kroger body bags), awaiting transport to their final resting place, i.e., trash day. Again, I'm very sorry, feel terrible about it, and have learned my lesson about leaving open containers out in the rain. Won't happen again.

In the meantime, I concentrating on the circle of life. And I may stop buying birdseed, too. Ick.

Follow up to the Smells post

One of my dogs brought it to my attention that there had been a dead squirrel in the bird feed can. I feel terrible! The squirrels could get out of the can quite agilely before it filled with water; I watched to make sure of that (because both dogs truly hate squirrels and would eagerly do harm to one that was captive in a can). But I guess once the can had water in it, the poor thing either drowned right away (I'm hoping) or scrabbled around, unable to jump out, until it drowned. Poor thing.

I hope it's tiny little spirit is avenged by my repeatedly smelling the awful odor, then finally noticing its sad remains and having to dispose of them. Revolting. Completely revolting. Puke-inspiring. I'm going to smell that in my dreams for a while.

Poor thing! (The squirrel, not me.)

Smells

We have a small garbage can, like the galvanized kind you put out at the curb but half sized, that we store bird feed in. A while back I opened it and noticed that the contents had gotten kind of damp, so I stuck it out underneath the oak tree by the pool so it could dry out (or so the birds would eat the top layer, maybe). Time passes. The can becomes invisible, no longer registering when I look that way. We have rain, several times.

Flash forward to Friday (yesterday). A skunk wanders into the yard while the dogs are out there. They run to investigate. I'm guessing the skunk had sprayed a few times by then, because they got only a small dose, but they walk away with a definite aura.

I hustle the dogs inside, then go out looking to see if the skunk is still around. Wandering through the skunk miasma, I came across the birdseed can. I thought, "Why, I forgot this was here," and very foolishly tipped it over where it stood to empty it.

I've never experienced anything like that. Honestly, I think that's the worst thing I've ever smelled, in all my 57 years. The good news is that the skunk smell was pure perfume by comparison. The bad news is that there was suddenly both skunk AND rotten birdseed wafting about.

The dogs had brought the skunk smell in with them, so we opened the bathroom skylight and several windows, and turned on all the ceiling fans, to air out the place. Unfortunately, we couldn't open any windows on the side of the house facing the birdseed tragedy, for fear we'd end up…well, just having to move.

Oh! I guess I forgot to mention—we had overnight company Friday night.

More fun than detergent ought to be

I mixed up a new batch of laundry detergent today, since we were almost completely out and our post-Oktoberfest laundry is mountainous, as in there is a mountain of it.

BTW, I'll confess here that in the last (pre-Oktoberfest) month, I've discovered that going commando is actually surprisingly comfortable. Seriously, I might do it more often.

But I digress. Detergent. Right.

The recipe I have for dry laundry detergent (thank you to my good friend Barry!) calls for…well, here it is:

Small Batch Dry Laundry Detergent

• 1 lb Borax (19 oz)
• 1 lb baking soda
• 1/4 box (14 oz) washing soda
• 3/4 bar of Fels-Naptha or 1/4 bar Zote soap, grated or chopped fine
• 14 oz of OxyClean

Mix all together. Use 1-2 Tablespoons per load.

I happened to have both Zote and Fels-Naptha soaps, since the first time I made this I wasn't sure which one I wanted to use. So I grated up the Zote, which is pink, and the Fels-Naptha, which is gold, and put it all in the food processor with the OxyClean, which contains little blue granules. The result has a kind of Funfetti look to it.

Making laundry time more fun than it should be!

While I've got you, here's a liquid version that works nicely, too:

      1/4 of a bar of soap (Ivory, Dr. Bronner's, Fels-Naptha, Kirk's Castile, Zote

              or another other non-beauty, lotion-free brand)

      1/4 cup of washing soda

      1/8 cup of Borax

      1 cup, plus 1 gallon of warm water

      3–10 drops of essential oil, if desired

      Use all metal utensils for this!

      Grate soap into 1 cup of warm water. Heat until the soap is dissolved; set aside. Put the gallon of warm water in a bucket with a lid. Stir in borax and washing soda. When they're dissolved, add the melted soap. Mix (plunge the pan the soap was in up and down a few times). Add the essential oil, if you're using it. Cover and allow to sit overnight.

      The next day, the mixture should be thickened and gelatinous. Use a metal spoon to stir and break up and any big lumps.

      Use 1 cup (or up to maximum level in your dispenser) per load.

Thanks to the fabulous Foodie With Family blog for that one. You can read her eloquent explanation of why one would want to make their own laundry soap. My explanation is less eloquent: Rich and I both prefer unscented laundry products. (Well, actually, he does, and after a hundred years of marriage, I've come over to the dark side, too.) But I had more and more trouble finding a detergent that was unscented and also actually worked.

After using brand after unscented brand that only kind of got our clothes clean, I spent a little time (and more than a little money) buying detergent with scents I didn't mind. The last time, I was washing a load and realized that I noticed the perfume about ten feet from the laundry room door. Nuh-uh. That doesn't work for me. Back to the brands that have no scent but don't work very well.

And then I came across these recipes. I thought, "Well, if I'm going to use a detergent that only kind of works, I might as well pay 4¢ a load instead of 16¢.

The delightful news is that they work well. Really, quite well. I'm still experimenting with the different recipes, and I'm sure I'll eventually decide which one is my favorite. But for now, I'm making both liquid and dry versions, and testing them against each other. For what it's worth, I use a food processor for the dry version and clean up is remarkably easy!

Plus there's the festive, Funfetti look. I ask you, what commercial brand offers that?

I'm FREEEEE!

Well, almost. I'm still putting together numbers for the Oktoberfest budget spreadsheet (we did pretty well), approving invoices, and planning a volunteer thank-you event. Oh! And I spent most of yesterday cleaning up Oktoberfest remnants (actual physical things left lying around) from Town Square, because they're picky that way. (Okay, I'm loathe to mention that the time and effort it took to take note of the broom leaned up against the door outside our staff office and compose an email about it was much greater than what it would have taken to just unlock the door and stuck it inside. But I'm sure going to think it.)

I'm gradually getting back to the real work. Promise!

I know, I know…

Yes, I know how long it's been. Yes, I have things I'd like to write about. No, I won't be doing that any time soon. And here's why:

Do you see that countdown timer on the upper left? I'll be back in that long. Oh! And please come to Oktoberfest. (Bring money!)

Learned something

I learned two things this morning already. Well, three, really.

First, composing a blog post on my iPad gives it some funky kind of default font that doesn't seem to correlate to anything that happens on the desktop version of Blogger.

Second, all my years as a typesetter have left me unable to ignore funky font problems. Must. be. fixed….

And, finally, I've lost pretty much all the html skill I ever had. I just re-entered that last post, because looking at the html gave me not a single clue about how to fix it. Yeah, I'll have to do something about that sometime.

Saturday night, or what passes for it

I spent a rollicking Saturday evening doing an inventory of my knitting needles. (Because I find, over and over, that I need an actual, correct and complete tally of them, that's why. Sometimes I spend time searching for needles that meet particular criteria when I'm not absolutely positive that I even own them. Or I find myself thinking that I need to buy some needles that are [fill in the blank] size or whatever, when, for all I know, the very ones I want are stuck up in a closet somewhere in my house.)

Anyway, that's what I did tonight. Two questions:

     1. I'm a wild woman, just wild, aren't I?

and

     2. Does anyone have any idea why I thought I needed seven—count 'em, seven—Knitpicks 24" cables?*

I'll be over here, seeing the error of my ways.


*See the 'thought I needed to buy…' thing above. Point made.