Perfect Gifts

Santa Baby,
Just stick some stickers under the tree
For me.
Been an awful good girl.
Santa Baby,
Hurry down the chimney tonight.

(I hope you know that song, but if you don't, here's a link to Eartha Kitt's version.)

As I age, I realize the gifts which make me deliriously happy are simple. One of them is stickers. All boxes and mailers and letters leave my house with stickers attached; unless they are mailers from Target. Those things require me to glue my stickers on. Not going to do that.

Christmas was a magical time. Carole sent me a whole bunch of stickers. I think she went to Hobby Lobby several times to accumulate this mass.

My friend, Liz, and my sister also got in on the act.

Liz's were all from Disney, thanks to her trip to Disneyland in November, and Sharyn's were all 50 cents or less.

I vowed, this year I would be better about writing people. I was gifted with some lovely note cards which don't take hours to draft a note. Thanks to this and a vow to be better about sending cards, I've used up 80% of this stash. I had to buy more stickers in March because I was running low. I put together Easter baskets for my great-nieces and nephews and bought stickers to put in those, which gave me a few more. But I realized I'd need to, probably in June, set aside some cash and hit up Hallmark. They have neat stickers, even though they are a bit pricey.

Enter Mother's Day.

The last three years, Carole has sent flowers. While very appreciated, 1-800-Flowers was not sending me good blooms. She would get a credit because the flowers would arrive with brown edges or would fail to open. After last year, she said, "I'm never ordering from them again, mom." There are a lot of things which would be great if she wanted to send me something, but she didn't ask so I didn't volunteer. When the Mother's Day card came, she said I have been gifted with a 6 month membership to Pipsticks. Huh?

Pipsticks. This is one of those subscription crate services which are popping up all over. I get a package every month. The clear mailer holds a pouch which contains stickers;

oodles and oodles of stickers;

all sorts.

I don't know if you can see them. On the left side of the keyboard are translucent colored raindrops. I'm not sure about the big rainbow piece at the bottom. It might be a place to stick stickers onto. I haven't tried to see if it's one huge sticker itself which would be awesome on the back of a mailer or flat or on the side of a box. I have a method for stickering packages and I just haven't gotten to that piece, yet.

Also included is a picture to color, a pre-stamped postcard and a newsletter, which is the heart covered paper. I sent the postcard to a friend and added the coloring page to a color book I got last year.

I am thrilled. I have not used these up. I've been really busy and haven't written a lot of letters. I sent out some parcels right before and right after Memorial Day and it was so wonderful to adorn them with stickers. It was hilarious because I sent a flat to someone who had never received a letter from me. His reaction was priceless. On the guild Facebook page he typed, "OMG! You guys! Letters from Gimm come covered in stickers!" A large number of people responded, "Yes, yes they do." The postcard is blank on the other side so you can use your stickers to create a scene. I just covered the side with anything which would fit.

My subscription runs through October. This might become my birthday and Mother's Day gift, I was told, assuming each pack stays as great as this one. In October, I'll have the rest of these to use up.

I bought these to use in achievement books when my guild goes to Disney World in October. (See below.)  I have two boxes full of stickers. We won't use all of them and the boxes are small enough to carry in my purse for stickering on the go.

This makes me so happy. I'm trying to get my life in order so I can sit down and write some notes. If I have to take boxes to the post office, I go to the one near the office. The clerks there get a big kick out of what I mail.

Beverage:  Klarbrunn Black Cherry Seltzer

Deb

Let Post-Season Begin

Tonight, the Iowa Hawkeyes men's basketball team starts the post-season of basketball with a game in the Big Ten tournament. It feels really weird to say the tournament is in Washington DC, but that's where it is this year. This is because Maryland and Rutgers, two universities decidedly NOT in the Midwest, are in the Big Ten Conference. Don't get me started on this. We're not even 10 teams anymore. I can see Nebraska but Rutgers in New Jersey? Oh well, they didn't ask me.

I got a pair of socks in early November because it's important to be completely Hawkeye on game days.

Yes, argyle Hawkeye socks. The "Iowa" is on the bottom of the foot.

In keeping with my tidying efforts, when I brought these into the house, I got rid of a pair which had no elastic around the top. I have a few more like that. I keep forgetting to put them in a give away bag, but I don't always remember they don't stay up until I've been at work for 3 hours and have had to pull them up a dozen times. I can't give away worn socks so I wash them and then forget and they get balled up and put in the drawer. There is a Christmas pair I wore on Tuesday which are like that. This time, I put a post it on the lowboy mirror to remind myself that pair, still in good condition in the foot but lacking elastic in the top, needs to be given away.

Today's outfit includes my Hawkeye sweater along with shoes and socks.

The shoes have no arch support. They are more like slippers in that respect, but they are easy to get into and out of. The last time I worse this combination, the football team beat a much better Nebraska team by a lot.

I need to get a couple more shirts. My long-sleeved tee shirt is going on many years of wear and is slowly fading to dark gray. I don't have a plain Hawkeyes tee shirt as I sent the only one I have to my sister when Iowa beat Michigan in football last year. She wore it to work the next week; a job where Michigan gear was everywhere. "So, how about Saturday's football game?" My Hawkeye shirts are bowl game oriented, not straight "Iowa Hawkeyes".

I really have no illusions about how far the basketball team will go. They have not played well this season. I have listened to only one winning game in the few times I remember to stream the games. I'll try to stream it tonight, but it might be better, because I'm superstitious, if I didn't listen. They seem to do well when I forget the game is on.

Go Hawks.

Beverage:  Dunkin Donuts tea

Deb

Traveling

Recently, my mom and sister, Sharyn, went to visit Carole and Larry in Virginia. I drove to Iowa the first weekend in May and picked up mom. She stayed at the house for a day while I worked and that evening, we drove into Chicago, in a driving, pouring, beastly rain, to pick Sharyn up at the Greyhound station.

Ironically, I had inspected that station, twice, for a very large road construction project currently going on a couple blocks away. The rain had stopped by the time Sharyn arrived so the drive home wasn't quite so sloppy.

We got up at 4 am the next morning, to pack up the car and head to O'Hare. They had an 8:30 am flight to Richmond, Virginia.

This is a really big deal. Mom hates flying. Once you get her in the air, it's not so bad and I'm told she even looked out the window once or twice. But she has issues with the pressure encountered when you take off and land. She said landing at O'Hare on the way back was horrible. Her face hurt so much she almost cried. The week spent with Carole and Larry was worth it, however.

While out there, Sharyn saw these.

This is an orb spider. They only come out at night. They were all over Carole and Larry's front porch and across the front of the garage. There was some "freaking out" when Sharyn pointed them out and a request to "Kill them! Kill them all!" Sharyn will have none of that nonsense. She knows, as I do, spiders are extremely beneficial. If you don't want to be eaten by mosquitos or have your deck plants chewed on by nasty bugs, you need to keep spiders around. Of course, they don't need to be in the house. We both try to gather the arachnoid onto something and fling it into the yard, where it belongs. Sharyn said the orb spiders in Michigan aren't as pretty as these. A friend said she'd be more afraid of the shadowy thing in the background than the spider. The angle of the light on the spider does make for an interesting shadow.

They are home now. I drove Sharyn to the bus stop and mom to Iowa. Pilchard and Mija weren't happy there were others in their house, but we all survived, including, I might add, the spiders on Carole and Larry's front porch.

Beverage:  Cream soda

Deb

I Win Christmas - Part 2

There.

Yes, it's a garden gnome.

Yes, it's an Iowa Hawkeyes garden gnome.

My sister got this from me for Christmas. It wasn't very tall, about 18 inches or so. I thought it would be heavy, but it was a resin material so it was fairly lightweight. The nearly hurricane-force winds Chicagoland had yesterday would have turned this into a weapon, launching it around the neighborhood, if I'd had one in my yard. I think, due to his diminutive stature, he's best off to the side of the deck or next to some potted flowers. He doesn't stand out very well.

My sister put him on the mantel above her fireplace. Perfect spot.

I warned her there was a box coming. I warned her it would probably make her laugh. He came sandwiched between two pieces of styrofoam so I wrapped the styrofoam and stuck him back in his box.

I think I need one.

Beverage:  Dr Pepper

Deb

Mom's 80th Birthday

If everyone invited had come, we'd have had 54 people in the basement of the dentist's office in Center Point. As it was, 32 people attended. It was entirely family, but that's the way mom wanted it. It was enough to get her to agree to being recognized in the first place so if the only people she wanted to invite were family, that's who got invitations.

Toward the middle of the open house, we set fire to one of the cheesecakes and made mom blow it out.

The oldest great-granddaughter gave mom a wand and a crown.

Toward the end of the event, we had to take the obligatory photos. There's us kids.

It took a little convincing, but grandma wore her birthday crown. Here are my brothers and their spouses.

Then there are the great-grandchildren. My oldest niece, Christina, gave birth to her 5th child, Adalynn, the day before the party, so she wasn't in attendance, although my brother brought the other kids.

My other niece, Amber, came with her husband and daughter. We count Mary's two kids, on the right, as part of the family, too.

Once this was done, it was time for the extended family. Probably one of the best reasons to have a party like this is that you get to see the cousins you grew up with.

We spent a lot of time remembering the big family gatherings we used to have. Our 4th of July celebrations were originally at Ken and Effie's farm. But, when my mom's generation started having children, the sheer number of people running around proved to be too much to host, so we moved to the city park. I have just a couple of memories of July 4th on the farm; fireworks set off in the corn field by my great-uncles and ice cold Nehi soda pulled from a steel cow trough full of ice. There are far more memories of the time at the park and then going to the Monona city fireworks display.

We talked about our genealogy, what we knew. Of course, we regret that we didn't ask our parents more questions when they were alive. My dad had 6 siblings. Only the oldest is still alive and she has dementia. Of the 6 spouses, only 3; mom and Aunts Dorothy and Audrey; are still alive. We cousins know a lot and it was wonderful to share things, but there are things we will never know. That is, perhaps, the nature of existence.

Here is mom and Aunt Dorothy. I swear. Aunt Dorothy simply hasn't aged. She looks just like I remember her in my youth. She just laughs when you say that to her, but it's sure the truth. Some people have really good genes.

Once we got home, got things put away, food frozen and could sit, mom allowed that this had been fun. It was nice to see her as the center of attention.

Beverage:  English Breakfast Tea

Deb

But I Don't Want a Party

When we all got together at Christmas, my sister brought up the fact that mom would turn 80 in April. She felt it was important to recognize this event with a party. Mom is the type of person who doesn't like a fuss being made over her. The idea of a party (gasp) in her honor (double gasp) just wasn't to her liking. She had mentioned to me over a year ago, that she would just prefer the whole birthday pass without notice. Sharyn, however, is sort of a force to be reckoned with.

I couldn't help. First of all, work was consuming days and weeks. We remain intensely busy and my having to make decisions, find things, send out invitations or other things just wasn't something I was going to be able to do in a timely fashion. Second, but most importantly, I had a wedding to attend. This wedding was going to occur 2 weeks before the weekend set for Mom's birthday party. The best I could do was assist when I got to Iowa and do some light tasks from Illinois. That was fine. My sister took over.

She picked the food and helped mom find places that would make it. She sent out the invitations and was the point of contact for RSVP's. She coordinated with mom's husband, Dale's, family for what they offered to bring. She arrived a week before everything was to happen and made sure we had all the supplies.

Sharyn, my brother's fiancee, Mary, and I made cheesecakes.

I made a lightly lemon-flavored cheesecake with blueberry topping.

There was a plain and a plain with cherry topped cheesecake. Mary made chocolate and mocha and caramel cheesecake bars. If there's one thing we do well, it's dessert.

We had sloppy joes (or Maid Rites, depending upon which part of Iowa you're from) and beans. Farther down the table were veggies, fruit salad and chips.

We rented the basement of a local dentist's office. It was the perfect size for our gathering. Decorations were simple.

Sharyn found everything at the dollar store.

One of Dale's daughters-in-law, Amy, made bouquets for the tables.

and

With five tables, we had 10 bouquets so I brought a couple back with me.

The sunlight on the daffodils just made them sparkle. I took the daffodils to work but kept the daisies at home.

Daisies are such hardy flowers. These lasted for 3 weeks with regular changes of water.

One of the cool things was this slide show of mom done on mom's mac. Sharyn scanned in a wide variety of photos and added them to the packaged music in the program. I printed some photos from Carole and Larry's wedding and we found a few photos of the cousins to add to the table.  (Carole and Larry were starting their honeymoon cruise to the Caribbean so weren't able to come.) There was a bag for cards. Mom had requested no gifts, a request some of us ignored. There was also a letter from an aunt who lives in California. It didn't take us long to set up and we were ready for relatives.

Beverage:  English Breakfast Tea

Deb

The View's Not Bad

I had a rheumatoid arthritis appointment on Thursday which necessitated a trip to the outpatient area of the hospital. Carole was born at this place, back when it was a "T"-shaped building with the maternity wing on the top floor of one the arms of the "T". When the hospital was built, it was a small-ish building on this huge acreage. In the intervening decades since her birthday, it has morphed into this large complex, taking up almost all of the acreage the original planners had the prescience to purchase many, many years ago.

I go to the 5th floor of Outpatient. The lab, the CT scan and the ultrasound areas, places I have gone since this diagnosis, are on the first floor. All overlook this courtyard. On Thursday, a day that was pleasant but rainy, the courtyard looked like this.

I don't remember what's directly across from my position. I've never seen how to get to the courtyard because even the first floor overlooks it. This view is pretty in all seasons and, now approaching my 2nd year of life with RA, I have seen the courtyard in all seasons. There was thought given to what people saw when they looked out the windows.

Hospitals have certainly evolved. I remember my sister being sick in the 1960's and having to go to the University of Iowa hospitals for treatment, one of the most innovative hospitals in the country. We were allowed up to see her and she had a bed in a ward. Curtains were drawn around the bed for privacy. That was considered 'state of the art' in the 1960's. We wouldn't dream of that now. We recognize that light and color and a view and peace all contribute to healing.

I know the design of this courtyard is incorporated into the fees the hospital charges for services. Our health care is, as much as we might not wish to acknowledge it, a for-profit business and that business has to recoup costs, even for a maple that turns bright red in the fall.

I don't like the fact that I have reached a point where I get to see the seasons change in the courtyard of a hospital. I took care of myself. Why do I have to be at this point in my life? We'll all be there, eventually. I guess having a good, calming, peaceful view makes having to get yet another test less onerous.

Beverage:  Yorkshire Gold tea

Deb

Things I Saw - Part the Ninth

Seagulls. In the middle of Ohio at a service plaza. An Internet search says that these are "Ring-billed Gulls", the most common kind of gull in Ohio. They were all over the truck parking side of this plaza.

I see them so much, living in Chicago, that I often don't even notice them.  We're in the middle of Ohio here and the parking lot is filled with gulls. My sister calls them "dumpster chickens" because they are opportunistic feeders. They tend to congregate in areas where there is a ready food source, such as a service plaza where there are three different kinds of fast food as well as two convenience stores. Oooh, you dropped your bag of Cheetos. You'll instantly make two dozen friends.

When I was growing up in Iowa, a seagull elicited a mad frenzy of bird watching. I guess, it still does with me since I'm blogging about it. If you saw one, it was because the bird hitched a ride on one of the barges that plied the Mississippi River. You can see them along the river but rarely far inland unless there is a steady food source and open fresh water. And, most likely, the one you see cruising the Target parking lot is a Ring-billed Gull.

I watched this crew, standing like sentries just waiting. A couple of truckers walked toward their truck which was parked to the right off this photo. One of the guys had potato chips and tossed a couple in the direction of the gulls. They charged those chips like they hadn't eaten in weeks. The birds that got the chips tried to take off with them but were nearly overwhelmed by others seeking to snatch them away. You know they aren't starving, but I wonder if they know what is their natural food anymore or if Doritos, bread crumbs and french fries have supplanted that.

Beverage:  Huckleberry tea

Deb

Happy Birthday

My family has always celebrated birthdays. Some of my best memories are of birthday parties. I even linger over the memory of watching my brother Steve's birthday party from my bedroom window because I had measles. It was awful then, but now, I just giggle.

Yes, I got the measles, those red spots that just exploded over my body. They were the "three-day measles", highly contagious, but here and gone in a week. I don't remember much about them other than it was a beautiful early May and I was confined to my second floor bedroom. When I needed to use the bathroom, I had to announce it so everyone got out of the way. Mom brought my meals to me. It was kind of like a hotel except my brother had a birthday party and I sat in my window and watched them having fun when I hadn't been out of the house all week.

Dan's birthday is in October. When mom was teaching me to cook, she had me make his birthday cake one year.

I got to decorate it with M&M's. This was long, way long, before seasonal packages were even considered so I spent an hour sorting the colors and applying them to the orange-flavored frosting. I do remember the frosting was orange-flavored, but I don't remember if it was hand made or something we got from a container. Pre-made frosting in a plastic container was a new idea at this time. I remember when "pre-made frosting" meant you added milk to an instant powder and whipped it. Who else remembers Dream Whip? I see a few hands. You know, I'd buy that if I could find it now. It had so many applications and had a tighter consistency that Cool Whip can replicate.

As we have grown older and spread out to live our lives, our birthdays have become just another day. Some of the family came to my house when I hit the half-century mark. We all gathered when mom hit 70. We'll do it again when she hits 80. Sometimes, I remember to get a card in the mail so it arrives on or before the date. Sometimes, I miss the date but still get the card out. Sometimes, the card doesn't get mailed or even purchased. I look at the calendar and think, "Oh yeah, there was that birthday I forgot." We get busy and it's just one more thing to remember.

And your birth order can have a lot to do with it. As first born, I go through life plowing the way for my siblings. First to turn 18. First to turn 30. First to turn 50. Those milestones can be forgotten when you get to #3 or #4 child. It also matters whether you mention your upcoming birthday. If it's little more than a date on the calendar, we're not so liable to remember. With grandkids running about now, it's easy to feel that birthdays are for the little ones and not for us.

So, when this Iowa trip presented itself, I looked at the calendar and realized the brother who is 18 months younger than me would have a birthday while I was there. Steve tends to be forgotten in the rush of life so why not have a small, simple party to celebrate? Three of the four of us siblings would be there. Sharyn is off to Idaho for a Forest Service job this year, but Dan and I could "celebrate", meaning we'd have cake and ice cream.

Mom set things up and we debated on making a cake. We could do the usual 9x13 pan with purchased frosting and then get candles but I wanted something a bit fancier. We opted to go to the bakery at the local Hy-Vee and buy a premade cake. They would have a baker on site who would be happy to add "Happy Birthday, Steve" to the top of a sheet cake. We'd head over to Christina's, have a little party with paper plates and plastic silverware and everyone would be happy.

We had picked out a rainbow frosted cake when mom spotted this.

How can you not be happy looking at this? It's made of cupcakes. There were chocolate and vanilla cupcakes, half and half; variegated buttercream frosting, sprinkles and a big "happy birthday"! It's perfect. There's no "I don't want that big of a piece" and Christina could easily parcel out the remaining cupcakes to her brood, instead of having to deal with cake pieces.

Cup cake cakes are all the rage now. I've heard of them being used as wedding cakes. I love the vibrant colors in the frosting. We had picked out a sheet cake with the same brilliant hues before mom saw this. It was a big hit and there were just enough cupcakes that people who wanted a second one could have one with only a few left over. Of course, the oldest grandkids wanted the purple and blue frosting.

It was just a small gathering and didn't last beyond 90 minutes, but it was enough to remind everyone that celebrating a birthday can be as simple as cupcakes and ice cream. I'd go for that.

Beverage:  Earl Gray tea

Deb

Family Christmas

Christmas is, perhaps, the one time when families try their darndest to get along. "Because it's Christmas" is a familiar phrase. If you're a parent, there are two families, sometimes more, who seem to "require" your presence and can and do cause problems if you can't be there because you're here on the holiday. We tried to balance that with one year there; one year here; one year with everyone here and one year with no one here. It didn't always work out that way, owing to the unpredictable winter weather of the Upper Midwest, but we made every effort to try.

I don't know the date, off the top of my head, for this photo. My family had come to my house for Christmas. There were the obligatory family photos and my youngest brother and my sister decided silliness needed to be included. I love the look on Dad's face. He's sort of resigned to our shenanigans. I'm guessing, from my haircut and glasses, this is mid-1980's.

In these later years, with a child now on her own, Christmas can sometimes feel like just another day, albeit a day I don't have to work. We always opened the bulk of our gifts on Christmas Eve, leaving a clear spot for whatever Santa brought. So, I open the bulk of my gifts on Christmas Eve. Even now, I send carefully wrapped packages to Carole marked "To Carole, From Santa". It's the spirit of things and it's nice having that one or two packages still under the tree, not to be touched until Christmas morning.

This year, my brother moved into a new house and he insisted Christmas would be at his house. We are now grandparents with two significant others, two kids with significant others, 2 kids not married and 4 of the next generation under the age of 6 roaming the halls. Dad may be gone, but mom has remarried and her husband is a part of the shenanigans that are a hallmark of our family. Dan was insistent that we have "family" Christmas. We even moved the date around to make sure everyone could be there.

Alas, it was not to be. While I made it, thanks to Dan for gas money, the pre-Christmas Blizzard of 2012 knocked out power to my sister's house. She wouldn't leave until it was restored and she knew it was secure. She left for Iowa the day I left Iowa for home. We weren't even in the same state at the same time. Oh well. Such is life sometimes.

We went ahead and had Christmas without her and she will be celebrating again with everyone tomorrow. It was still a bit hectic as people had to come from some distance and people had to leave to head to another location for another family Christmas.

"Do we want to open gifts before the dinner is ready?" Dan asked.

That was the best thing to do. While adults can be patient watching the Packers destroy their opponent, little kids have no idea why people are interested in the TV. They will, however, push the buttons on the remote because it's funny to see how adults react when their football disappears.

So, we jumped into full-scale Christmas mayhem. "We need a garbage bag for wrapping paper!" Mary hollered. There were huge gifts that would have yielded sections of wrapping paper which could be reused next year. I remember, in another time and place, saving the paper, flattened, in a box for reuse. You cut off the edges with tape and the paper was available in ever decreasing sizes for several years on end, if it had wrapped a large toy.

I don't do that anymore. I do recycle all my wrapping paper now that one can do that. I remember when it was burned in the furnace or in the burn barrel. That it can be recycled shows how far we've come in our efforts to be more green and less throw away.

My family has been doing something for a few years now that I didn't know about until gifts were exchanged. They try to mislead someone with the wrapping or wrap a small gift in increasingly larger packages. Carole and I did that with several of her friends from high school. We put one of Niles' gift cards in a duct taped plastic bag and then froze the bag in a block of ice. Rob's gift was buried in our back yard and he was given GPS coordinates spelled out in words on a piece of notebook paper that we got wet. Carole was given a gift card carefully inserted into the side of an empty case of Diet Coke. Think about how thin the cardboard is on a case of soda. It took her 30 minutes and repeated urgings to "look again" before she found it.

Dan gave Mary a birthstone ring. In the above photo, she's down to wrapping number 3. The ring itself was then wrapped and covered with two layers of tape. It took her a good 20 minutes to get through all the packaging. Later, Dan had to figure out how to open a duct taped package. He "cheated" by inserting a knife right along the edges and slicing the top open.

Had I known this was how packages are given, I'd have been more creative in wrapping mine. As it was, I put the same label on two different items which caused a number of "Getting old, Deb?" comments.

The day ended with a huge dinner, some of which was bagged up and sent home with me. There was madness. There was chaos. There were kids crying because whatever he has, she wanted. "No no. This is yours." There were lost tags and "ooh's" and "aahs". There was family. The 6 of us are up to 18 which makes any location a squeeze and a shower of wrappings. But, we were mostly all together, just as silly as we were 20 years ago.

"That's what Christmas is all about, Charlie Brown."

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Yesteryear

I've mentioned, in previous posts, how pieces for quilts were taken from clothing that has been worn out. When it ceased to be fixable, it went into the pile to be cut apart for quilting.

I'm going through the latest box of fabric and out comes this.

I remember this. I remember wearing this. I believe I wore this in kindergarten as, at the time, girls were not allowed to wear pants to school except in the winter and then, we had to take them off when we got to school. Oh my. I remember. 

The skirt is not attached to the back bodice anymore. I think it can be repaired, however. A gentle hand washing and a check of the seams and I think it could be worn again. I didn't see anything else wrong with it. 

Another dress was in the box.

This is not something I wore. I have no idea who would have worn this. It's in much more serious condition with parts of the front missing. This is definitely a candidate for the quilt pieces bin.

But my dress? I don't have a granddaughter, yet. I may never have a granddaughter. I can't bear to put this in the quilt pile. I remember feeling wonderful when I wore this dress. I don't think anyone made it. I'm fairly certain it was purchased. I don't remember my sister wearing it, although hand-me-downs weren't uncommon in my family. I'm going to fix it, clean it and keep it. No, it really serves no purpose to keep it other than to hold onto a time when life was wide open and I wore pants to school under my dress.

Beverage: Dr Pepper

Deb

That's Where They Come From

As you can see, I've been baking up a semi-storm. This leads to being out of basic baking supplies;  flour, sugar, spices, milk and eggs. I have one lonely egg in the fridge. But, it's no matter. Oberweis delivers tomorrow and I ordered more eggs.

At the Lincoln Park Zoo, they have what's called "Farm in the Zoo". It's a museum farm designed to show city kids that milk doesn't come from a plastic jug in a chiller at Dominicks. It's an okay concept but nothing near what it could be, although I think the rarefied air surrounding the zoo would object to the smells of a more traditional working farm.

I never really helped dad milk the cows. He quit milking when I was in 6th grade. It was just more work than he wanted to deal with. But, he loved the idea of raising something. We had hogs for awhile but mostly, dad went with chickens. And with chickens come eggs.

I don't remember how many nesting boxes he set up. I think this particular row had 10. Every day, someone (usually me) had to go check the boxes for eggs. I think we must have had close to 2 dozen hens and hens were always laying. There was one rooster and he had a nasty temper. I had to walk across the barn to get to the other boxes and dad kept a broken broom by the barn door. He told me to grab that and keep it with me, plus never wear shorts. When, not if, the rooster charged, you could whack at him with the broom which would startle him and send him scurrying away. By wearing pants if you weren't quick enough with the broom, he couldn't poke you with his beak through the fabric.

I remember being terrified of that bird. I know on a couple of occasions, with a basket full of eggs from the first row of boxes, I decided those other boxes could wait for dad to check because I just didn't like how the rooster looked at me. It seems to me, dad got tired of dealing with him too, got another rooster and we had chicken for dinner one weekend.

The chickens were allowed to roam free although they usually came into the barn at night. We would lose the occasional one to something but, for the most part, they didn't wander and were fairly secure. With this roaming, you'd occasionally go into the hay mow and find a nest with 3 dozen eggs in it. SCORE! But mom, with her sagacity, wouldn't take any of them for cooking. "You can throw those against the barn." For those of you wondering why we'd do that? Who knows how long the original eggs have been sitting. Yes, you could do a water or candle test, but with this many chickens, you're guaranteed a steady source of fresh eggs. We would muss up the nest we found and then have a field day hurling the eggs against the barn. They made such a great sound when they hit. You always knew when you'd get one that had "turned".

The industrial chicken farms have hens in cages where all they do is lay an egg. It rolls down a chute and into a container to be sorted, graded, packed and shipped. Oberweis doesn't buy eggs from industrial farms. Their egg suppliers allow their chickens some measure of mobility. I think it makes for happier chickens and better eggs and yes, the eggs are more expensive.

My egg gathering consisted of looking into the boxes to see whether anything was there, adding fresh straw to the empty boxes and getting the evil eye from a chicken occupying a box and unwilling to leave so I could get her eggs. When that happened, "just stick your hand under her and grab them. She'll be upset and may poke at you, but you'll be fine", dad said. Um...yeah. I can remember standing in the barn talking to a chicken. "Look, I have to do this. Would you just get up and leave so I can see if you're sitting on anything?" Right. That worked about as well as asking my girls if they would come let me cuddle them. My sister could do it but I rarely could. Sorry mom. Many of those times I came back to the house and said, "That's all that was down there", there was a hen or two in a box and I just couldn't bring myself to stick my hand under her.

When I pull an egg or two out of the fridge to be added to the next batch of whatever I'm baking, I reflect that I know where this comes from and what it's like to raise chickens and gather eggs. Could I stick my hand under a hen to see if she's sitting on something? I don't know. Couldn't we come to an understanding where she leaves when I walk in the door? And where's that rooster? He's giving me the evil eye again.

Beverage:  English Breakfast tea

Deb

Red Green in Concert Without Duct Tape

Back in February, I got a ticket to see Red Green in concert. Red Green is a Canadian who developed a whole empire around a semi-clueless guy who did handyman projects with duct tape, belonged to a lodge (think real life Flinstones) and had a variety of friends with quirks. My sister exposed me to this humor back in the 1990's as she was able to pick up the show from a Sault Ste Marie, Michigan TV station. Red "invaded" the US in 2000-ish and duct tape has never been the same. Many PBS stations, generally not in the big cities like Chicago, picked up the syndication and Possum Lodge fever swept parts of the US. I had to go back to Iowa to see him, although he was picked up by a small PBS station in Chicago about 4 years ago. Unfortunately, I didn't find out until a couple years ago so missed a number of episodes. Plus, the show is on Saturday night and I generally have World of Warcraft plans, not TV plans, on Saturday night.

I think the TV show is funny, more so because I've known people who use duct tape in the manner in which the character uses it. The relationship humor is spot on. I think the show appeals to those of us out in the sticks who have had to "make do", "make up", and "make over" what life has given us. I thought, if the show is funny, the stand-up ought to be as funny, too.

The show was held in the Rialto Square Theater in Joliet, Illinois. It's a great 1920's era restored theater that is a gem to walk into and just stand there looking. The photos I took were really blurry, owing to the crush of people around me who wouldn't allow me to just stand in one place and shoot. Plus, inside the theater part, I felt conspicuous using flash. The marquee is above and the carvings and pillars above the entry are carried out throughout the theater. I believe they have theater tours and it might be something to look into.

I got there a bit early. There is next to nothing open in downtown Joliet at 6:25 p.m. on a Monday night. Parking, in the one garage I remembered was by cash only. I had no cash. I almost never have cash anymore as 99% of the places I go take debit or credit cards. The guy let me park on the promise I'd come back to him. I asked where an ATM from my bank was and he directed me beyond the theater. I walked 15 minutes around downtown Joliet and never saw an ATM for my bank. I gave up and went inside, worried that I'd have a parking ticket or worse, have my car towed. Neither happened, but this is a notice to me. I need to have a 10 spot in my wallet at all times for things like this.

Now, about the show. Red Green encouraged people to take all the photos they wanted. I know a bit about cameras and knew my little point and shoot wasn't going to get him in any kind of focus. He did stop occasionally, to make a joke and I tried to take photos during those times. This is the best I could do.

The show is humorous. There were times of knee-slapping humor. There were times to chortle, to guffaw, to snicker. There were also a few times, when stuff fell flat but I guess that happens to all stand-up comedians. Knowing the TV show helps the humor. I think anyone dragged along who didn't know the show probably didn't get some of the jokes. Of course, I can't, a day later, recall anything that was stand-out funny, but the show certainly had its moments.

There was a woman behind me and to my right who thought everything was funny, every joke, every movement, every stare, every point at the audience. I can't go that far. The venue was not sold out and there were very good seats in front of me which were not filled. A couple of people left half-way through the first act and several groups of people around me did not come back after intermission.

I did not realize it but the TV show is no longer in production. They filmed 300 episodes and are working to get all shows up on the web site for free. I do know one of the actors passed away about a year ago and several cast members had moved on to do other things. At one point, the Canadian Broadcasting Company was going to cancel the show due to funding but the faithful raised a lot of money to help keep it on the air for another couple of years. This tour seems to be a result of the cancellation. Let's take the schtick to the people.

The thing, for me, is that although I think the show is really funny, the live comedy wasn't as good. This is the first "concert", if you can call stand-up a concert, involving a comedian that I have seen. I don't know if, say, Jerry Seinfeld at his prime, was like this. It's one guy, on a vast stage and everything is on him to keep the audience engaged. We have a shared theme here, The Red Green Show, but, I knew several of the jokes he used (Internet memes) and some of the jokes were familiar schticks from the show. I don't know that I had any real idea of what the show would be. This was new.

Now that I've seen him, I won't go to another show unless I give it as a gift to someone. For me, it wasn't the kind of humor that I am dying to see again. He's wry, he can make some very good topical humor, some pointed observational human traits humor, but about 25% of the show just wasn't, for me, funny. Still, I am very glad I went and if you know anything about Red Green, I encourage you to go to one of the shows.

I enjoyed going to this. The drive home was wonderful with a sliver of a moon, Jupiter and lots of visible stars. It was kind of the icing on a lovely evening.

Beverage:  Huckleberry tea

Deb

Why That Memory?

Memory is such a fickle thing. I can't remember where I put my car keys, but I had a memory spring into mind, totally unbidden, and fresh as if I'd had it happen yesterday.

There is an anniversary approaching. One year ago, my friend, April, was involved in a car accident. She hit black ice on her way to work and then hit a retaining wall. Had it not been for the airbags in her car, she would have been seriously injured. Her husband, Perry, took to Facebook to announce her accident. There was silence for hours for those of us too far away to be contacted quickly. It was evening before we learned she was shaken and bruised and very sore, but okay.

Why remember that? It came, like a flash, through my mind over the weekend; totally unbidden and quite unexpected. I wasn't really thinking about them. I think about my friends daily, offering a silent, "Hope you have a good day" to the ether in desire to send them good wishes. But actually thinking about them? No, I wasn't consciously. Suddenly, the event was just there, in the forefront of my memory and I could see, in my mind's eye, the photos Perry posted of the car.

Other memories came sweeping back last weekend. We got 6 inches of snow from Friday mid-morning to Saturday early morning. We were sent home around 2:45 so that those with longer drives would make it home in decent time. There is a school bus stop just north of the house. I heard the bus come by and stop.

I took the bus to school all my years from kindergarten to senior year. I did get a car in my senior year but sometimes it was needed by a parent so I would wind up taking the bus. We had a garage out by the road. It was strategically placed, I realized in later years, so that if you had to shovel to get out, you didn't have to shovel the long, long drive from the house to the road. We never used the garage as anything but storage so we still wound up shoveling.

You would stand in the garage, which faced north, to watch for the school bus as it headed up the road to the house. In the spring and fall, you'd stand out by the road unless it was raining. In the winter, the garage was a very necessary shelter from the cold.

As I watched the few kids who do ride the bus (This bus is for middle school kids.) get off, I remembered the cold. I remembered getting off as a storm was bearing down on us and I could feel the sting of wind-driven snow. I went to school during the last vestiges of my public school requiring female students to wear skirts or dresses. In the winter, we could wear pants under our skirts but those had to be removed when you got to school. I can remember times where we'd just grab our pants and go to the bus, either putting them on after we took our seats or carrying them home. It was such a hassle. If you chose not to put your pants on, your bare legs would be ice cold from the walk to the house after getting off the bus.

I haven't thought of my elementary school winters in decades. I don't know what the trigger was for April's memory. The trigger for my grade school past was hearing and seeing the bus stop in the storm. I don't know that the memories mean anything overarching, like dreams do. They were just called up from the great filing cabinet that is my brain.

As I get older and I have days where I can't remember anything, I worry, as perhaps most of us my age do, that the demon of dementia is creeping up on me. I can't find my car keys. I leave my carefully prepared lunch on the stove. I do a load of wash and forget it's in the machine. I don't know where I put my slippers. I take a message because someone is on another call and forget to give it to them until 2 hours later. My doctor said several years ago when I voiced my concerns to him about memory loss, that I have reached the age where there is a lot to remember in my life. If I really stopped to think about the things I do and all the years I have of things I've done, I have much more to remember than a college student. Therefore, it stands to reason that in all the processing my brain does, some things are going to get lost.

What we suddenly remember, what suddenly springs to mind totally unbidden, is quite interesting. I can remember, with vivid detail, something I'd truly like to forget and the surprise birthday party my parents threw me on my 18th birthday is nowhere to be found other than, yeah, it happened. Today is my sister's birthday. I can remember a rather loud argument we had during preparations for her wedding. I'm trying to remember times when we had fun together in spite of the 6 year age difference. Those memories, rather than the yelling at each other, are what I long to remember. I've had my brother ask me, "Remember when x happened?" and I haven't a clue. How can he remember something like that when I can't remember, some days, what I had for breakfast?

So, I'm back to why remember that April's car accident anniversary is close? April is well, hale and hearty and has spent the past year in physical transformation. She's an incredible inspiration, "brave", for those who get the inside joke. Maybe this memory popping in the conscious is a mini reminder to tell her how much she means to those of us who know her, how what she's done this past year is nothing short of remarkable.

Now that I've done that, do you know what I did with that list of things I needed to get done today?

Beverage:  Darjeeling tea

Deb

"I don't want people to think I'm a lush."

My mother and sister are giggling now. They should recognize that sentence.

If you are any kind of experimental cook, you've no doubt tried a recipe or two or three where 2 tablespoons of some alcohol was needed. Drive to the liquor store and find out said liquor comes in a 2 quart bottle. That's it. There is nothing smaller. Personally, I think there would be a decent market in making things like amaretto, hazelnut, cherry and other assorted spirits in 8 ounce bottles. I have a recipe for mahi-mahi that uses hazelnut liqueur. Fortunately, I like hazelnut liqueur, but what if you try the recipe and you wouldn't feed it to the neighborhood raccoons? You're stuck with a bottle of something you don't like.

I've mentioned my grandmother's cooking abilities in this blog before. She could whip up the most memorable dishes that took 2 hours and had 45 steps. She couldn't make chocolate chip cookies to save her soul. She was forever trying new recipes and many of them involved alcohol. Plus, she had certain drinks she preferred, although, unlike my grandfather and his rum and cokes, I can't tell you what she liked other than something that was yellow, came in a bottle with a tall neck; Galliano, or something like that.

She kept her alcohol under the kitchen sink, although a few bottles would go to the cabinet in the basement under the stairs. This way, the alcohol was at the ready if she needed it. Alcohol was on the left and cleaning supplies were on the right. Heaven help you if you put the dish detergent on the left.

In the last 5 years of her life, she began to think about her mortality and what her home said about her. Invariably, her thoughts turned to the bottles under the kitchen sink. I cannot count the number of times she would say to either my mother, my sister or me, "When I die, make sure the first thing you do is get rid of those bottles under the sink. I don't want people to think I'm a lush." We would always assure her the bottles would be removed quickly. Honestly, people might have had some negative thoughts about her for other things, but being a lush was not one of them.

I like to try new recipes and sometimes those involve alcohol. In the basement, on the top shelf of shelf unit along the west wall, are bottles of liquor. They sit, like the one in the photo, collecting dust. I've used, maybe, a half cup out of some of them and then not touched them again in years. Last winter, during the blizzard, I dug out a bottle of cinnamon schnapps and started adding a shot or two to my hot cocoa. When the schnapps was gone, long about August, and yes, I drink hot cocoa all year 'round, I brought up a bottle of white cream de cacao. There was a bottle of banana liqueur. A shot of both of those added to hot cocoa was really good.

The photo above is dark cream de cacao. You can tell how long I've had it by the layer of dust on the bottle. I had to run the top under hot water to break the crusty seal to get it open. It's still good. There's a bottle of cherry brandy down there, a couple of empty bottles and a couple bottles of wine. I really don't drink that much so it will be awhile before all of this is gone. Then, I'll be down to buying just what I'll drink.

As I savored my hot cocoa laced with chocolate liqueur, I thought about that mahi-mahi recipe. I haven't made that in years. Add a salad and fruited rice and that would be an excellent dinner. I think the recipe calls for 3 tablespoons hazelnut liqueur to go into the sauce which is poured over the fish. I'll have to buy a big bottle. Just don't think of me as a lush if you find that bottle in the basement. Add a shot to your hot cocoa. It makes the cocoa taste like a peanut butter cup.

Beverage:  Edinburgh's Finest tea

Deb

Gram's Cookies

My sister sent her usual Christmas box. Inside was her card and a large plastic bag of candy cookies. There are chocolate and peanut butter ones.

She does this every year. Our grandmother made these at Christmas. It takes marshmallows, almond bark in peanut butter and chocolate flavors, and peanuts. I think there is a version with chow mein noodles in it. Gram would show up with huge tins of these. Sometimes, it was all we ate the day after Christmas.

When Gram died, Sharyn took it upon herself to learn to make these. It's her way of preserving a family tradition. They are so sweet, you can't sit down and eat the whole bag. Well, possibly someone could, but I can't. It takes at least 3 sittings to polish off this amount.

I can't make them. I tried once and the technique is just beyond me. I opened up the box last night and memories of Christmas past floated by with the scent of cookies. Gram never had a Christmas tree. She did have, instead, a little ceramic lighted tree that sat on her fireplace mantel. I remember fires in the fireplace at Christmas but, eventually, she closed that off as it was drafty. All the presents sat on the hearth under this little green tree. She was something of a neatnik so the mess of wrapping paper and tags and ribbons and bows would irritate her. We had to put the wrapping immediately into a waste bag. I'm still not sure how "Santa" managed to place his gifts on the hearth when there were kids sleeping on cots in the living room, but he found a way.

Some things just mean Christmas. I think Sharyn made these the one year we celebrated my mother's 70th birthday. It was around Easter and we were all getting together for it. It was nice, but these are Christmas cookies and are, at least for me, forever associated with Christmas. Thanks sis.

Beverage: Black Raspberry tea

Deb

Blarg

I'm sick. I am completely and totally blaming this on my lifestyle and, as my sister called them, "2-legged walking germ factories".

None of the kids was openly sick. They don't have to be. Kids in day care are exposed to hundreds of viruses to which they build up immunities. They bring them home and their parents become immune to these as well. Enter Aunt Debbie.

Now Aunt Debbie hasn't gotten a flu shot in 3 years. Why? Aunt Debbie doesn't come in contact with many people. Aunt Debbie works with a very small group of people, all over the age of 25. When Aunt Debbie goes out, it's usually with people her age and to venues where day care assisted germs can't be found. Put Aunt Debbie in a room with little people and all the things they carry and Aunt Debbie is going to catch the first thing that can jump ship onto her. As healthy as I felt last weekend, it's nothing compared to 'little people germs'.

I was fine until Thursday. I knew I was coming down with something on Wednesday but thought liberal application of hot tea with honey and a 12-hour sleep would staunch it. HA! I lasted a half-day at work. I stuck it out until someone else came in to answer the phones. Then I went to Dominicks and stocked up on comfort food.

When your head is congested and smelling is something you only dream about, food becomes an item you know you should partake of but nothing is appealing. Therefore, it is in my best interests to have things I will eat, that are appealing, even if they taste like cardboard and have no smell. Soup, both tomato and chicken noodle; beans, to be combined with smoked sausage and heated along with the leftover pork loin from last weekend; chocolate frosted donuts (these didn't make it through 24 hours); and Dr Pepper. Other than the donuts, I've had a can of soup, some toast and a couple of Dr Pepper and lots and lots of tea.

I think it's "Feed a cold. Starve a fever", but I'm also quite sure that if you treat a cold, it will be gone in 7 days. If you don't treat it, it will linger for a week. I had nothing in the house to combat the cough, which was so bad on Wednesday night through Thursday, that I bruised my rib muscles coughing. I take a prescription pain medication and the last thing I need, on top of this cold, is to have a drug interaction between something over-the-counter and my pain med. The pharmacist said I was good with any over-the-counter meds and he recommended this stuff, too. "Zicam works," he said. "I feel it lessens the severity of symptoms. I suggest you add it to what you're going to buy. It's not something you're going to get addicted to."

So I am in day 2 1/2 of taking this roughly every 3 hours as directed. My cough has, for the most part, gone away, which is very good. The hacking cough of this cold was so painful yesterday with the bruised muscles. I have a lot of drainage down the back of my throat and, right now, my head is stuffy. But, this hasn't made any move to head to my lungs. This is a very good thing. I can't take good old penicillin for infections and the drug I do have to take is expensive. I'm tired, but that's expected with a cold. I don't know if this works or if this is the natural progression of this cold. The stuff was on sale for $10 and it doesn't taste awful.

The proof will be how I feel come Monday. In theory, I should "be over" this by Thursday of next week. If I'm feeling 80% or better come Monday, I'll consider this a moderate success. Check back next week to see. Now, off to make more tea.

Beverage:  Boston Harbor tea

Deb