Thank Goodness I'm Not Jewish

Years ago I had a student who told me he was half Jewish and half Christian. He explained that he received 8 Hanukkah gifts from one set of grandparents and a Christmas present from the other grandparents. He thought that was great. However, after preparing the mailing labels and paying the postage on-line for family Christmas gifts I can only say that I definitely can't afford to be Jewish.

This transaction was fun up to a point and one saves a little on postage. Fortunately I have a very old kitchen scale which is reasonably accurate, and it notes lbs. and oz. And, believe me, there was some serious poundage. The packages to Illinois and our nation's capital were fairly easy. However the package to Canada . . . .Well, here's what happened.

Not only did USPS want to know how much it weighed (17 lbs. 2 oz.) but the dimensions of the box. I put all that in, and then was asked the contents, and I was thrilled that the drop down menu listed "gifts." That was my selection, of course. But just wait. Customs was about to insert itself. Next section down *required* each included item be described along with its value and weight. This was a test to see whether or not I was honest about overall weight and value, I think. Of course, the challenge was to remember what was in the monster box. There were gifts for one daughter, one son-in-law, and three grandchildren, and most of them were getting two surprises. Besides it had already been two days since I wrapped it all up.

My frustration level began to edge upward as I contemplated "one pair purple cotton socks", $3.95,______. How much does one pair of socks weigh? How much does a hair brush & comb set weight? When I completed the list the little computer tally thingy indicated that my items weighed too much. That made me angry, but I also thought it was funny since I was making up all those numbers anyway. At this point the dogs appeared to be somewhat nervous about my mental state and asked to go out though the temperature was still in the 40's.

After editing the weight of a couple of items I satisfied the aforesaid "tally thingy", and I was good to go on to giving the postal service my credit card number. Then came the big moment: printing my label and postage. The program informed me that this would require 5 pages---and it did. One page was filled with directions which included taking it to the post off. Bet you thought that wouldn't be necessary, but those customs lists had to go into a special plastic bag and be taped to the package. I didn't think a Zip-lock would satisfy them. But I had completed all this business, and I was pretty pleased with myself. Just when I gave the computer the go ahead to print out the transaction # and verification the browser shut down. My reaction to that apparently encouraged the cats to exit the house as well.

I am now home from the P.O. (BTW you have to mail on the day you print the postage.) Everything went surprisingly well there, and I didn't even have to wait in line. That was scary.

One request: Relatives in Canada must not remove and read customs list before Christmas Day. Is that clear?

One resolution: Personally selected three dimentional gifts in the future will only be given to persons whom I visit or who visit me. Is that clear?

One question: Could I have survived sending Hanukkah gifts?

A Threat

Last night while having a relaxed long distance conversation with one of my daughters she suddenly threatened me with, "You'd better post your Christmas wish list before it's too late." Well, I was stunned. After all I was still under the influence of turkey, dressing, and pumpkin pie to be really concerned about such things. But I knew she was serious when she muttered, "I'm just saying . . . ."

So now you're thinking I want the movie you see here. Not so; I have it. However, I do want you to think back to the nightmare scene in which Spencer Tracy is trying to make his way down the aisle to be part of his daughter's wedding and is sinking into the floor with each step. That is the way my kitchen floor is since the dishwasher leaked this past summer. We couldn't figure out where the leak was, and it took the plumber a while to find it as well, and by the time the truth was known, serious damage had been done. He, the plumber, said to give it a couple of weeks to see if the vinyl would go back down, and I have generously given it four months. It hasn't gone down. The kitchen floor REALLY needs to be replaced, and I must get on that problem because when I don't have that sinking feeling I think I've stepped on a dog or cat and jump over to one side shouting, "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to . . . ." Obviously this is a dangerous situation as well.


Therefore what I'd really like is a gift card I can use anywhere when I finally select the new floor and find someone to install it. It doesn't sound like a very personal gift maybe, but it would be wonderful to me.

It's A Puzzlement!

In about six weeks our family will gather to celebrate a marriage and the incorporation of new members to our family. However, over the past year the whole clan has adopted new names in Blogville. How should we address one another? Emily Post died before she could cover this social situation. Yes, Goo, I know you've got the book, but it's not in step with NOW.

Help, someone, please!

Proving A Point

Re-read the first statement in "About me" above. Thank you. You may continue.

Back in June or July another member of our orchid society asked if I wanted to take charge of the display for our society coming up in Sept. or did I want to be responsible for our local show display in Nov. Inasmuch as I was holding my breath during all the moves and life changing events in my offspring's lives plus entertaining grandchildren (current & upcoming) and couldn't begin to focus on an orchid display, I opted for the Nov. responsibility. Of course, that caught up with me about a month ago when we had a meeting of the show committee. It occurred to me a few days before the meeting that they probably expected me to have a plan. Since the theme of the show is "Falling for Orchids" I thought a large cornucopia with orchids spilling out of it would be just the ticket, and they really like the idea. Unfortunately, there were no LARGE cornucopias to be found.

Next step was to contact another society member who actually builds furniture. He's retired from working oil rigs in the Gulf. He said yes he thought he could come up with a frame using wire. And he certainly did. He brought it to my house a couple of weeks later in his van, thank God, because I couldn't have gotten it into my Toyota Camry. Here's a picture of it.

Not only was it made of heavy guage and chicken wire but also zip ties (those, red, yellow, green things you see) and on some joints two or three layes of duct tape. I thought he did a great job, but I'm here to tell you those zip ties don't want to turn even when their ends are sticking out, and it is not feasible to try to sew through duct tape.

It now became my task to cover the #!%@$&**$# thing. Papier mache was suggested by a friend, but coming up with enough paper was a big problem plus where to do such a messy task and also leave it to dry was not doable. Besides I'm really lousy at that sort of thing. Finally I decided on old shade cloth of which I had an abundance.

The first step was to line the opening section with black. The plan is to have one or two orchid plants in the opening. There is an unwritten law (in the U.S.) that orchids should be displayed with a black or dark green background.


Next came covering the outside with another kind of shadecloth with different texture and a different color, trying to simulate that woven look, don't you know.

You are probably wondering: what kind of thread? what kind of needle? Well, it turned out that 6 strand embroidery thread worked---3 skeins of black, and 4 skeins of beige. Needles? embroidery, tapestry, and both the small and large mattress needles; also a pair of pliers was used occasionally to pull the needle through. It took several days to finish that part of the job.

Next it was haul that sucker outdoors for a spray paint job. However, I'm going to skip the outdoor picture because it only shows what two cans of paint could do, and you want to see the finished color, right?


Now the big question became how do I finish off that edge that will be center front in the display and surrounding those orchids. Raffia? Yarn? Cloth? Grapevine? I promised myself it would not be anything that required more sewing. Well, here's a preview of the finished edge. I can't actually put it on until we set up the display because I wouldn't be able to get it through the doors of my house.


You can't imagine how happy I am to have that simulated cornucopia off my dining table and resting comfortably on the bed in the guest room. The show is two weeks from now, and I'll let you see how it looks in the display. Keep your fingers crossed for us. Oh, and regarding that opening sentence? Talk about taking on big jobs . . . . I rest my case.

BOO! It's Halloween!

It's Halloween, and I'm really not into doing the trick or treat thing anymore. That's because a couple of years ago about nine o'clock three teenages who were way taller and bigger than I showed up at my door. They didn't even bother with masks or costumes and sounded more threatening than playful as they asked for treats. So, this year I'm disguised as an empty house.

The Cat's Out of the Bag

Actually that lead in may be a little misleading. This blog is really about a dog and a small miracle. Here's what happened.

A couple of weeks ago I spent the night with some really close friends in another town. All of us had had a very tiring Saturday, and we went to bed before midnight---a rarity on a Saturday night especially since we hadn't visited in a long time. The next morning I awoke early, not in my own bed, you know. I made coffee and was enjoying it. I peeked out the dining room window and could see the big fat Sunday paper in the front yard; the neighborhood was quiet; no one was out. So I decided to dash out in my p.j.'s and bring it in so I could have a look. With coffee cup in one hand I opened the front door with the other, and without a warning their big, blond dog, Daphne, bolted past me and through the door and down the block. My initial reaction was to step just outside and begin to call her back, but she was out of sight. I stepped back inside and began to anguish over whether to wake my friends and tell them of my stupid mistake or get dressed and drive around the neighborhood looking for her. In reality what I did was march outside and call repeatedly, whistle, and beg Daphne to come home. Nothing stirred in the neighborhood. Finally I went inside to change clothes.

The whole time I was dressing I kept asking myself if I should just wake them up and get the whole platoon out searching for Daphne, but I really didn't want to admit my carelessness. Also I knew how little sleep they got during the week, and I didn't want to short change them on their one chance in seven days to rest. By the time I dressed and searched everywere I could for a leash to no avail forty-five minutes had passed since Daphne's dash for freedom. I was feeling sick.

I had just reached my car and unlocked it when I looked up and saw Daphne loping around the house, her big tongue lolling out the side of her mouth. She stopped abruptly and looked at me with her usual "let's play" grin. My mind began one of those "foxhole" prayers which was along the line of, "Please, God, don't let me screw this up. I can't run as fast as this dog." Then the sweetest little high pitched words began to come out of my mouth. "Daphne, look at you; you sweet dog. Come let me pet you. You had such a nice run; you look so thirsty. Come here, sweet thing." Thank God, she took the bait, and I clamped a hand on her collar. We made our way back through the front door. She drank about a quart of water.

I never mentioned any of this to my friends. Does that make me a bad person?

The Year of the Tomato

When I moved here five years ago it was June 1---a little too late to start any kind of garden. Besides when one first moves to a new city and state there is so much to do inside and out that planting anything is not convenient. In fact, one doesn't even know how good the soil is. However, one of my very favorite foods is a wonderful ripe tomato. So, the following winter I could hardly for the garden plants to come into the retailers. Bear in mind I really don't know anything about gardening and don't come from a line of farmers. I just wanted some really good tomatoes.

The first big hurdle is to select which hybrid to plant. There are so many, but I finally settled on a Big Boy. That sounds sturdy and somewhat reliable. And was it ever? It seems the area into which I had moved had extremely rich soil. I also gave the little darlin' a couple of feedings also just to help it along. That was the summer that I ate tomatoes almost every day from the 4th of July on and made green tomato relish in September so as not to waste any. That came in handy at Christmas time too as the gift for the person you don't know what to give but feel you should---give something that is. The picture on the right shows you the first three tomatoes I harvested in 2003, and I ate the smallest one just moments after snapping the picture.

Those geography lessons from so many years ago taught me that one lets the soil rest; therefore I take even numbered years off. No tomato plant again until 2005. That year I chose Better Boy, and it became a territorial war between Better Boy and my dogs. It also tested my support skills, i.e. could I keep its branches off the ground.

By the end of the season I had put in 13 stakes to hold it up as well as using the fence. It was also the summer that I welcomed new neighbors to the "hood" with a bag of tomatoes, and I learned to make fried green tomatoes. That plant produced 152 usable tomatoes; mind you I'm not counting the ones that did rest on the ground, or that the birds got to first and ruined.

Honestly, I didn't know whether I wanted to plant another one this year or not, but when my son's dog dug a deeper than needed hole in the usual place I decided to fill it partially and stick in another tomato plant. This year's choice? Beefsteak! Those are the really big ones, and I can't wait to see what the challenges and rewards will be. By the way, any favorite tomato recipes you want to pass along?

Thank God, I Was There First!

The longest running arguments my ex and I had were over names for the children. As you might imagine these ran as much as eight months per child; and for four children that takes up almost four of our sixteen years together. Sometimes they weren't concluded until post partum. To be honest I don't remember what the argumentative names for the girls were, but I do remember the boys' names. He wanted to name our firstborn Carroll. This was to be in honor of Carroll O'Connor who at the time was best known for playing Archie Bunker, a loud mouth bigot on TV's "All In the Family". I had nothing against Mr. O'Connor, but I thought this name, Carroll, would be launching our son down the same path as "A Boy Named Sue," as in the Johnny Cash song. So, I stood strong.

After three children with perfectly acceptable WASP names my ex then turned ethnic on me. Suddenly he wanted to name this last child and second son Pablo. (No, Picasso had nothing to do with it.) "You just can't follow Chad, Buffy, and Skipper with Pablo," I argued. "It sounds as if he was adopted from another country." Goodness knows, I knew he came from the same place as the others. It would be great on a grant application, but we weren't writing one. One more victory!

My children have never complained about their names, at least, not in my hearing. But now that they've become bloggers and proclaimed themselves to the world on the internet I'm astounded at their pseudonym choices.

Chillax
Plug
Goo
Dagromm

Give me a break! I fought so hard for you to have reasonable and delightful, inspiring names. My pets' names are more wholesome than your blogger labels. For that matter, your pets have nicer names. You could have just chosen names of serial killers or Sneezy, Dopey, Happy, and Doc. Go figure!.

Favorite Drinks Revisited

Another blogger asked about readers' favorite drinks, and Diet Coke and water were on the lists. Then a couple of days later I received this forward from a friend. Much of this info seems highly suspicious to me. Not drinking enough water related to certain cancers? Coke on the battery posts I have heard, but Coke as the decimator of steak yet great for cooking ham? What are your thoughts about the validity of these claims?

WATER

#1.   75% of Americans are chronically dehydrated. (Likely applies to half the world population.)

#2.   In 37% of Americans, the thirst mechanism is so weak that it is mistaken for hunger.

#3.   Even MILD dehydration will slow down one's metabolism as much as 3%.

#4.   One glass of water will shut down midnight hunger pangs for almost 100% of the dieters studied in University of Washington study.

#5.    Lack of water, the #1 trigger of daytime fatigue.

#6.    Preliminary research indicates that 8-10 glasses of water a day could significantly ease back and joint pain
for up to 80% of sufferers.

#7.    A mere 2% drop in body water can trigger fuzzy short-term memory, trouble with basic math, and difficulty focusing on the computer screen or on a printed page.

#8.   Drinking 5 glasses of water daily decreases the risk of colon cancer by 45%, plus it can slash the risk of breast
cancer by 79%., and one is 50% less likely to develop bladder cancer. Are you drinking the amount of water
you should drink every day?

COKE

#1.  In many states the highway patrol carries two gallons of Coke in the trunk to remove blood fromthe highway after a car accident.

#2.   You can put a T-bone steak in a bowl of Coke and it will be gone in two days.

#3.   To clean a toilet: Pour a can of Coca-Cola into the toilet bowl and let the "real thing" sit for one hour,
then flush clean. The citric acid in Coke removes stains from vitreous china.

#4.   To remove rust spots from chrome car bumpers: Rub the bumper with a rumpled-up piece of Reynolds
Wrap aluminum foil dipped in Coca-Cola.

#5.   To clean corrosion from car battery terminals: Pour a can of Coca-Cola over the terminals to bubble away the corrosion.

#6.   To loosen a rusted bolt: Apply a cloth soaked in Coca-Cola to the rusted bolt for several minutes.

#7.   To bake a moist ham: Empty a can of Coca-Cola into the baking pan, wrap the ham in aluminum foil, and bake. Thirty minutes before ham is finished, remove the foil, allowing the drippings to mix with the Coke for a sumptuous brown gravy.

#8...    To remove grease from clothes: Empty a can of Coke into the load of greasy clothes, add detergent, and run through a regular cycle. The Coca-Cola will help loosen grease stains. It will also clean road haze from your
windshield.

FOR YOUR INFORMATION:

#1.   The active ingredient in Coke is phosphoric acid. It will dissolve a nail in about four days. Phosphoric acid also leaches calcium from bones and is a major contributor to the rising increase of osteoporosis.

#2.   To carry Coca-Cola syrup! (the concentrate) the commercial trucks must use a hazardous Material place
cards reserved for highly corrosive materials.

#3.   The distributors of Coke have been using it to clean engines of the trucks for about 20 years!

Now the question is, would you like a glass of water? or Coke?

Panning for Movie Gold

Eureka! I found a nugget! On TCM tonight was a 1948 production of Oliver Twist directed by David Lean. (Does that name produce a ring of your chimes? Well, it should.) This was , of course, a pre-musical production, and it had all the elements of film noire being a B& W production and exceptionally good actors. And if you've seen the musical version you can envision the conception of that production. It is a masterpiece, and it had never been seen in this country in its entirety. Apparently some felt its portrayal of Fagin was anti-Semitic. Not really; just following the C. Dickens book. Make-up will be discussed later.

So who was in this flick, you ask.

Artful Dodger---Anthony Newley---remember him? Later wrote "Candyman", a big Sammy Davis, Jr. hit, and other songs almost as big which he performed as well.

Bill Sikes---Robert Newton---probably better remembered as Long John Silver in Treasure Island, and often a villain.

Fagin---Alec Guiness---you wouldn't recognize him in a million years, and that's because his make-up makes him resemble a long-haired toucan (probably the reason for the anti-Semitic objection); but his movement, and the cadence of his speech shows you where the musical was conceived. It's so different from anything else he did as an actor. What a talent!!!

And who was Oliver?

Oliver---John Howard Davies (at age nine)---and who the heck is that, you ask.

He made approximately three more movies, but as a grown-up he was a producer (and sometimes director) of The Good Life (Remember Richard Brier & Penelope Keith, the city dwellers who were going to become self-sufficient?), Monty Python's Flying Circus, and Fawlty Towers, and other comedies. A long move away from Dickens.

If you get a chance to see this movie: Don't miss it if you can.

Maiden Blog

Yes, life is a test, and it's multiple choice. Almost every day another question comes along, but unlike those stress provoking college exams, the various answers are not clearly printed out. That, of course, adds to the drama and intrigue. First, figure out what "A", "B", "C" , and "D" (maybe going all the way to "H" or "I") are; then choose the best one for me. Feedback on the correctness of the choice is sometimes delayed for years. Enough of the serious stuff.

My family has become a "bunch o' bloggers". Therefore, in order to stay connected with them, I'm joining too---like it or not. One of the recent tests, obviously, is figuring out how to create and launch my blog. So, here is my "maiden blog;" now I'm going to the kitchen for the champagne to do this right.