Tuesday, June 19, 2018

You're Not the Boss of Me.

I have never been one to be a follower.
As soon as you tell me that I have to do something a certain way then I will immediately try to find another way to do it or refuse to do it at all.
My pinecone Mama told me I was quite a handfull during my teenage years but that was because I realized early that she was NOT the boss of me.
I honestly don't remember being anything but me.
I did and do remember pulling my hair out (yes, completely bald on one side) at 14 because of the stress of too many people telling me what to do.

Point of the story?

My grandson.
He is 4.

Below are 2 pics of my husband trying to teach our grandson to spit watermelon seeds.
Bacon (the grandchilds chosen moniker for my husband who does indeed love bacon) instructed him to stand behind the line, insert the seed, get a lung full of air and then spit.
They were competing for a while and the grandson did well.


Insert seed into mouth and look at camera with an 'I got this' smirk.


Inhale enough air to create a vaccum around yourself before spitting...

It was a fun activity on a hot June day.
He actually figured it out and was entertained for a while.

I took the pics to send to his mom and dad while they were at work so they would be entertained as well.
It wasn't till days later as I looked at the pics again, that I realized the pictures were a glimpse into the dawning of rebellion.

The young padawan is not even close to being behind the line.
(he was when we started and before I decided to take pictures)
I was not aware at the time but it looks like he has moved up with every step or seed!
LOL!
"You are not the boss of me!"

And so it begins.
Keep an eye on this one we must.

Thank you for being here.

Monday, April 16, 2018

The Expiration Date.

Recently my mother, yes the giver of pinecones one, hurt her back lifting a 60 pound vintage sewing machine since that is how senior citizens in my family work on upper body strength.
Just kidding.
We do lots of fork lifting.
As in table to mouth.
As in extra reps if there is pie.
So I was needing some extra pinecones... just kidding again...I went to stay with her and help out as she mended because I needed to feel like I was 9 years old again and in need of time out.
For almost 2 weeks I trepidatiously tried to tend to a person who knows the correct way to do most everything, won't eat anything unless it is 'good for you', keeps EVERYTHING in case she or someone she knows might need it and who is a bit snippy now because she is in pain.
Sheesh.
The things we do for love.
Or what we do out of guilt and possibly the shadow of future quilt.
50/50
Point of the story?
Butter.
Yes, butter.
It has been my experience that the Great Depression generation believes that butter is Greasy Gold.
To them it is good on anything and should always be in the house.
Always.
As a child my mother would put it on sandwiches, both sides, to 'keep the mayonnaise from soaking into the bread'.
Yuck.
I hated it.
My mothers version of a good sandwich was 2 pieces of bread, lots of butter and some butter toppings like roast beef or ham.
Well, during my stay with her I was making some food for the two of us and needed some butter to saute a few vegetables.
There was no butter in the refrigerator so out to the giant garage freezer of long forgotten leftovers and bargain groceries I went.
Found it:


Butter from a bygone era.

Look at the 'best if used by' people!

2007 !!
Butter from another decade!!

But my mom is 83 and only in ill health from trying to do too much and I wanted to tempt fate.

So we ate it.

It was actually delicious!
Expiration dates are made to be tested by people who live (and possibly die) on the edge, who take risks, who have no fear of danger!
Sell by dates did not even exist for the public till the 1970's yet humans survived for centuries and myriad generations before their existence.
My family has eaten bugs, worms, fish food, dirt and dog treats, all with no dates to warn us off.
We are still going strong.

Anyway...

I am alive and healthy after eating 11 year old butter.
My mother is on the mend after eating 11 year old butter.
Expiration dates are helpful, sometimes annoying, easily ignored, wasteful and a predictor of things to possibly come.

My plan is to go well past my human expiration date.

Hope you will join me!


Thank you for being here.

Thursday, March 15, 2018

Easter Peeps vs Godzilla. Retribution.

It is that Eastery time of year and my brain would not shut off.
So...after Godzilla mostly beat the beejeebus out of the Marshmallow Peep Bunnies a couple years ago, they decided to inflict their ultimate revenge.

***************

I bring you,

The Peeps Revenge,

The Peeps take back Easter,

Marshmallow Retribution or

The Kraken Peep:





Easter Bunny Peeps vs Godzilla

Or this outdoor version:


Easter Marshmallow Peep Bunnies vs Godzilla

(Now as a true green Godzilla fan I am keenly aware that Godzilla should/could/would always win, but sometimes strength, power, scariness and the immediate need to retreat come in the simplest packages)

Happy Easter.

Thanks for being here.

Sunday, February 4, 2018

With Love From...

Valentines Day is fast approaching, so please let me wish you a:

Happy Valentines Day!

From our family to yours!



Godzilla Valentine Love

It's all about love.
All of it.
Everything.


Thanks for being here.
Have a lovely day!

Sunday, January 28, 2018

Perpetual Winter Coat.

Living with animals, the mammalian variety, for me is one of the greatest honors I have as a human.
The fact that they haven't killed me at some point during the day is testament to their intelligence, restraint and understanding of doorknobs.
So....if they have the a b i l i t y to destroy me but choose not to, they are shrewdly teaching me that I should appreciate and honor them all the more.
They do have many ways of subtle domination but the one I will focus on today is their fur, hair or whatever you want to call the stuff that covers EVERYTHING IN MY HOME!!!
It is the animal worlds way of branding us humans so other animals know who we belong to.
Lint rollers need to come in wallpaper versions about 30 layers thick so as the family prepares for the day we just lean and roll our whole body against the wall and go out the door.
We then tear off a sheet of 'wallpaper' when it gets too furry and repeat as necessary.
This attachment of animal hair to humans is why I really don't need a winter coat.
Every day a fresh jacket becomes magnetized to me as I move about the house.
Some days I worry that a PETA supporter will throw red paint on me in protest as I walk down the street.
It is that bad.
Or...
Is it that good?
Q. What is a little lot of hair on your clothes every day when you compare it to adoring dog kisses, snuggles and excitement when you return home or purring, petting and cleaning up hairballs?
A. Often it is a hassle when scheduling concerns are now delayed by the process of hair removal or being broke because of all the money was spent on lint rollers and never looking like you did laundry even though you do a load every single day and could weave blankets out of the 'lint' that comes out of the dryer.

But...like I mentioned earlier, animals honor us with their presence and love us no matter what kind of jerk we are on any given day.
It is worth every single minute and every single discarded hair.
Truly.
It is also being able to stay warm in the winter without even trying as your 'pets' share some of their warmth like a reverent gift as you leave the house.
Blessings.


One of these things is not like the other.
But they all share their coats.

Thank you for being here.

Tuesday, January 23, 2018

Dinner Bell.

When I was younger my sister and I would, more often than not, play outside after school with neighborhood kids until it was dinner time.
We knew it was dinner time when our mother would stand out on the front porch and ring a bell.
It wasn't a loud bell but it had high timber and we knew we had to come home within the next five minutes after hearing it.
No actually it was 5 minutes after she began ringing it, but when we were zooming around hiding in the bushes or riding our bikes all willy nilly we didn't always hear it because dadgummit we were in the middle of something!
But ring it she did and under the threat of some random extra chore for tardiness we usually bolted home.

The family dinner bell.

This ritual occured until we got old enough to cook for ourselves and decided to not carry the burden of sitting at the table for 3 hours after dinner was over because we refused to consume some horrible concoction our mother thought we needed in our diet.
Although to be fair we were pretty healthy and did not take vitamins back then or have bouts of sickness that required hospital stays so maybe........
M a y b e...
Meals though were pretty routine and pale because the only spices we had in the house to make meals interesting were:
Salt...for everything.
Pepper...for company--to show how fancy we were.
Cinnamon... for bread and toast.
Nutmeg...for custard pie.
That is it!
Even regular mustard was for people living in the fast lane.
So....
I bring this up because I'm thinking of starting a new blog where people who are nervous about the aging process can ask me all types of questions then receive semi-researched but mostly cockamamy speculative answers and take some stress off of their worried old shoulders.
Such as:
Q: Why do old people eat dinner so early?
A: Well, gentle reader it is because they could die at any minute and they feel the need to get one final meal in their bodies before the sun goes down or people* will sneak their food away under the cover of darkness!
And driving after dark to get food or anything is practically a suicide mission.
I find that as I get older that this early meal regimen is adhered to with every meal.
Why take the chance?
Food is the highlight of the day.
Heck, food is the highlight of life!!
Dead people don't get excited if someone mentions mashed potatoes!
So hearing the dinner bell or watching the clock in anticipation of the next meal means that life is good!!!
Yes, yes it is.
Where is that cake from yesterday?

Thanks for being here.


*people? People, being no one really, because who does that? Dogs m a y b e, but even they aren't that crazy about applesauce. But have you ever tried to argue with an 85 year old who is hungry?

Monday, January 1, 2018

And then....

And then......

It was/is 2018.

I actually stayed awake until after midnight without having to tape my eyelids open and wished every one at my party a "Happy New Year!"
And by 'at my party' I mean I didn't really have a party and I don't have friends who could stay awake that long if I did.
So, I kissed my husband sitting in the chair next to me, texted 'Happy New Year' to the rest of my loving family, comforted my shaking dog who is terrified of fire works and finished a 'Call the Midwife' Christmas Special on Netflix and considered all this celebration as my way of welcoming in a brand new year!

It was fabulous.

I'll probably do it again in 2019.

That's the kind of party animal I am.

Thanks for being here and may 2018 be everything you need it to be!




My Boxer. A real party animal!!
And yes, he got that box on his head all by himself.