Music Contest

We're looking at another weekend – and a Super one at that! And that will be the end of my Super Bowl references for today. We are looking forward to the game.

It's been snowing lightly most of the day. There hasn't been much build-up, but the little flakes have been floating around since it got light this morning. School got out early today. I saw the fifth grader across the street come out in her capri pants and short-sleeved shirt to tie up one of their dogs. It made me chilly just to see her!

By this time of the school year when I was in high school, we would have begun gearing up for spring music contests. Students would be poring over sheet music, deciding what instrumental or vocal solo piece they would start practicing. These solos would have accompaniment, so the two or three pianists we inevitably had in high school would be divided up so none of them would be overwhelmed with learning new music and scheduling rehearsal times.

The music teacher would be weighing in on each decision on the music selection. They would also facilitate the group events – clarinet trios or quartets, trumpet trios, small vocal groups, and the glee club music. There was a lot of planning, implementation, and rehearsal that was done.

Because our band class time was spent rehearsing the full band selections for competition, and the music class time was spent rehearsing the glee club selections, all the other rehearsals had to be done either before or after school. And that's where it got crazy. Since we only had the one music room for rehearsal, everyone needed to communicate so we weren't overlapping with rehearsal time. If a vocal group needed to rehearse before school, you had to be careful that the dairy farm kids weren't in that group........they usually got to school just before the opening bell, after they'd done morning milking.

You had to keep in mind who had access to a vehicle and who was stuck riding the bus. Well, except for me. I started accompanying for music contests my sophomore year of high school. I didn't drive, we lived ten miles from school, and it was imperative that I be there. Dad was working in Carrollton by then, so he would drop me off at school on his way to work. If I needed to stay after school, I was there until he came by on his way home from work. It was one of the few times I regretted being so far out in the country. There wasn't anyone who had a license who lived close enough that I could catch a ride home.

My junior year was especially hectic. We had moved into town by then, so it was really handy for me to be at school whenever needed. What made this year unusual was that we didn't have a music teacher for the majority of the year. The superintendent would sit in on band class for discipline while my cousin, a senior, rehearsed the band. I don't really remember what we did for a Christmas program that year, but contest time is still vivid. The district found a young gal who was graduating with a music degree at the end of second trimester of that college year and hired her. So for part of January, February, and until she was there full time, we had music on Saturday. We rehearsed as best we could before and after school.......then we trekked back on Saturday.

We spent long Saturday hours rehearsing with the new teacher for music contests. And we had a decent showing at our music contests that year. We ended up at State Music Contest with a vocal solo (my cousin, of course – he went every year of high school) and a mixed quartet. We had a fun time that day because the new music teacher drove us to Columbia. We all enjoyed being with her, she was young and cool and funny.

I hated when she went to another school the next year, but we were really lucky to have her for that part of my junior year. It was my favorite year of high school.

Susie Homemaker & The Healthcare Marketplace

Never fear, America, Susie Homemaker is alive and well..........and my kitchen smelled wonderful this morning! After an unscheduled trip by the Harvesters Truck yesterday, our fridge is full and overflowing. And that led to a kitchen mini-marathon this morning.

Mom and I had gone to a local funeral yesterday afternoon, so hubby and I were a little behind the crowd at the food pantry. The good news is that we may have received a lot more of the fresh fruits and veggies than earlier people did, but the bad news was that the bread products were all gone. So I started this morning making a loaf of bread.

Once I set that on the cookstove to rise, I started chopping apples and cooking them for applesauce. By 10:30 or so, we already had the aroma of yeasty bread rising and cooking apples permeating the house. Next on the agenda was cutting up a fresh pineapple. That just added to the aroma – and by the time I got the pork chops cooked for lunch, we were both ready to eat! And I was ready for a breather.

The bread was done and came out of the oven a little before one. We were both still full from lunch, but you can't ignore a freshly baked loaf of bread. It was a new recipe, and it was really good. I'll be making it again.

Before I could have fun in the kitchen this morning, I had to swirl back into the abyss that is the Healthcare Marketplace. They called earlier in the week regarding my appeal – which was filed November 14 – and needed some questions answered. They called back just as I was preparing to start the bread this morning.

Their first question – have you tried successfully to go back on the Marketplace website and try to get a policy? No, I've been waiting to hear on my appeal. Then they really got to the heart of the matter and asked me several questions – I thought the answer to some of them were a little obvious, considering I'd written on my appeal and had already stated verbally this morning that we are unemployed.....especially when they asked if we expected any income besides hubby's Social Security this year.

The upshot was that I had to use another first-class stamp (however much they cost by now!) and send them a copy of the Eligibility Notice I got from the Marketplace and a copy of hubby's notice from Social Security on the amount he'll receive this year. It had to be a hard copy of both, they would not accept an email. So I also used three sheets of paper and toner to print this stuff off. And they asked me somewhere in the conversation why I thought the eligibility notice needed to be appealed. I'm not sure how many ways I can say “I have no income!” before they understand it!

So I'm back to the waiting game – again – and naturally they wouldn't give me any timeline on when I might hear back from them. I don't plan to hold my breath, that's for sure!

On an amusing note, at least to me, I was listening to my online lectures on my How To Reason & Argue class this afternoon. After an hour, I decided to switch over to my first week's lectures on Intro to Philosophy. The Philosophy professor took up exactly where the Reasoning professor had left off – same topic, same terminology, same type of examples, with a very smooth transition. Funny. I think the Philosophy course may help me mentally catch up with the Reasoning course at this rate.

Moving

It's another teeth-chattering day. I don't mind 20 degrees, but I'd rather have that as a low instead of the daytime high! The hot soup we had for lunch really hit the spot. It truly has been the type of weather to make you feel sorry for the ones who have to work outside – our mail carrier didn't look too comfortable as he trudged up to our mailbox today.

I'm catching a “House Hunters” episode, a Federal worker being transferred from New Orleans to Fresno who was given only five days to find a house. Watching her stress of having to find a home in such a short amount of time brings back so many moving memories.

For a kid who grew up on the farm, I had very little experience with moving until just before my 17^th birthday. That's when we moved off the farm into my Grandmother's house next door to the school. Once we started moving the furniture I volunteered to stay in the house in town and unpack.......so I didn't have to go back and look at the farmhouse. I wouldn't have handled that well.

And so it began. Within a year and a half of that move, I left home and settled into the dorm at college. That consisted of hauling everything I needed to the dorm in the fall, calculating what I would need at home during the six-week Christmas break, then moving home in the spring. I guess I should also add in there three different dorm rooms during my freshman year. And at the end of my second year of college, the nomadic life really kicked in. The frequent moves were job related, and I often found myself moving into a home I hadn't seen until the moving truck pulled up. That's always interesting. The first stop was three years in Wichita, and from there it was a long move to Portland, Oregon.

That move was one of the more memorable ones. Another couple shared our move, and we misdiagnosed how much trailer room we would need. Loading got very stressful as we had to decide who got to take what, and what had to find a new home at the last minute. And the trip was eventful, too. The wife of the other couple got sick every morning. They thought it was car sickness. I knew better, and about eight months later my diagnosis was confirmed. The husband got stressed out and got sick and unable to drive for a couple of days. So I was driving my brand new standard-shift car with a trailer (which I'd never done before) through the mountains, Mac Davis in the 8-track player.

After three more moves in Oregon, the next really memorable trip occurred.......five days, two vehicles, four kids (we had a niece at that time), two adults, and a walkie-talkie system. The first night's stop was one of the more eventful. As I was in the motel getting things squared away for that night and the next day's trip, the four-year-old pushed the three-year-old in the deep end of the pool. As he was being carried into the motel room, sputtering pool water, he was mad - because he didn't get to stay in the pool and see the fishies.

I was driving a three-speed standard-shift Ford Pinto station wagon on that trip. Those same two kids made most of the trip in the back of that station wagon and did well until the last day when the three-year-old (recovered from his dip in the pool) decided he was tired of being in the car and needed to run. So he stood up and started doing laps in the back of the car. It didn't take long for me to strip him of that notion.

Several years later in a move from eastern Indiana to southwestern Iowa, we were again doing the trip in two vehicles. Friends had given us travel baskets, so we had an endless supply of juice boxes, chips, cookies, and all sorts of junk food in both vehicles. Someone thoughtfully brought supper for us upon our arrival at the new home and couldn't figure out why the kids didn't want to eat. I was too embarrassed to tell her that they'd been “recycling” all that junk food!

To this day I'm not fond of the color yellow – it makes me think about all the miles of driving behind a Ryder truck!

Seed Catalogs

Hubby and I enjoyed watching the NFL Pro Bowl last night. We enjoyed their new format of choosing teams, rather than playing NFC vs. AFC. It was a lot more competitive than the past few games have been, even though you had teammates playing against one another. I think some of the defensive players enjoyed tackling their professional teammates a little too much!

We had another very nice weekend – followed by another frigid day. And we've had more wind. Honestly, this winter cannot end soon enough. When there's a 40 degree difference from one day to the next, that can't be healthy for us. The wind last night was ferocious. The wind chill has stayed in single digits (and a good bit below zero) today.

It's been several years since I was on the mailing list for seed catalogs, but this is the time of year they normally arrive in the mail – once the holidays are over and winter sets in, you check the mailbox and find this colorful harbinger of spring.

If you haven't gardened or ever seen a seed catalog, I think you've missed out on something wonderful. It was such a relief from winter weather to go through the seed catalogs cover to cover, to see the bright vivid colors of the fruits and vegetables, and to think about the warm sunshine of planting time in the spring.

It was a learning experience to go through the catalogs and see what new items had been developed. One of my favorite were the purple beans. They tasted the same as green beans, but they were more tender and could grow much larger than green beans. And when you put them in hot water – they turned green! Who knew. I still haven't figured out the changing color thing, but the kids always thought it was fun to watch them.

I rarely ordered anything from the seed catalogs, but they were a good resource for me as I planned my annual gardens. I could flip through the pages as I plotted my rows and hills and make sure I didn't forget anything. Sadly, though, it was usually more expensive to order through the seed catalogs than it was to buy locally.

Once I figured out what I wanted to plant, I could make a list and start buying seeds – again, I didn't want to forget anything. Usually I would get the seeds planted first, then add the tiny plants a little later. Every year, I loved the process of watching the seeds and tiny plants grow and produce food in such a short amount of time.

Of course, the reality always was that weeds would grow even faster than my plants. Hoeing is a backbreaking job, but it's a necessity for a good garden. Once the first plants started producing, checking the garden and picking the ripe food was an every-day occurrence that usually continued through the first heavy frost. Some days I would look at everything brought in from the garden and wonder how in the world everything would get used while it was fresh. And the canning and freezing marathon would start. Even then, it was sometimes difficult to keep up with everything. I still hate to throw out food that I haven't been able to use.

I have a lot of memories of gardening when I was a kid on the farm. It was “all hands on deck” when Dad plowed up the garden in the spring......meaning I was always drafted to help he and Mom plant the garden. We always had our “natural” fertilizer from the barn lot, thanks to the resident cows. I usually helped out with the hoeing and with the harvesting. The okra always made me itch – when I was grown and had my own garden, I had to resort to wearing a long-sleeved shirt and gloves to harvest it, regardless of the heat. Toward the end of harvest would be the potatoes, and we all helped out. I can still remember the backache I would have after a day of picking up potatoes.

Dad's Cooking

A perfect foil for the very windy day – snug inside the living room watching a marathon of “Chopped” episodes on Food Network. I'm always glad that I'm not the one having to figure out what to do with all the odd food items they put into the food baskets for the chefs! I did my own foray into the cooking world today with a pot of steamy potato soup for lunch. I may not have won a $10,000 prize, but I did get rave reviews from hubby.

If you're not familiar with “Chopped”, it's a competition between professional chefs. They start with four chefs who are given a basket of four ingredients to create an appetizer dish in 20 minutes. There's always one very weird item in the basket that doesn't go with anything else. They have to use everything in the basket. One is eliminated and the remaining three have 30 minutes to create a main dish with another mystery basket.....and in the final round the remaining two have 30 minutes to create a dessert from a third mystery basket. The winner receives $10,000. It's fast-paced, stressful, and creative – and it makes me feel so much better about myself in the kitchen when I see the contestants present a dish to the judges with their pasta undercooked or their fish overcooked!

Some days I feel like the “Chopped” competitors when it's time to fix lunch. Normally I have some sort of plan from one day to the next when it comes to meals. But every so often, I hit a culinary wall and draw a blank. On those days, I'll stand in front of my pantry with a look that's partly dazed and partly confused. And inevitably if I finally get the glimmer of an idea, I'll be missing some major component. That's when your creativity kicks in – or not. Sometimes there's just not anything that can be used “instead of” - and sometimes, the substitution turns out to be genius.

Dad was a creative cook. Mom was not. So things could get a bit interesting as I was growing up, depending on who was cooking. The only kitchen disagreement I remember was over pancakes – each of them thought their own pancakes were good and the other's, well, wasn't. I thought they were both okay – all you had to do was use enough butter and syrup to mask the taste!I was always okay with trying new foods.

Dad did create a few memorable dishes. They really couldn't be defined or put into a box – mostly because he would start with a few basic ingredients, then he would start adding whatever looked good to him. By the time he was done, we would have a huge pot of whatever it might be. I usually thought it was good. Mom wasn't always a fan. The worst was one fall when Mom was gone for a few days, and Dad opted to make a pot of stew instead of the food Mom had planned for us during her absence. For reasons I never quite understood, once Dad had the stew going he decided to throw in some macaroni as a starch component. When that didn't quite get it where he wanted, he added rice. By the time that puffed up, he had to add more water and go to a different pan. He kept alternately adding macaroni and rice, then adding the necessary water, until we were into the biggest pan in the kitchen. Mom was almost speechless when she came home several days later and we were still eating that stew! I guess we should have shared it with the dog.

There were a few things that Dad really liked that Mom didn't care for. So he would wait until he was really hungry for it and then head to the kitchen. Cornmeal mush was one thing he would make – cooking cornmeal and water together until it was thick, then pouring it into a loaf pan and refrigerating until it was cold and thick enough to slice and fry. It was yummy with eggs. He would also make custard and sometimes bread pudding. I was usually a willing participant for whatever he was craving.

I enjoy those times in the kitchen now that bring back a memory of Dad cooking – they always make me smile.

Letter Writing

It's another of “those” days......really cold, with the wind chill at -13 this morning and still holding under 10 degrees even though it's the middle of a sunny afternoon. Tomorrow will be better. I almost lost track of how many layers of clothing I have on!!

I keep checking the driveway to see if the paper has come yet – so far no luck, but I'm hoping it comes while the sun is still up. The sunshine will help a bit with my dash to the driveway. And while I'm out, I'll check the mailbox too. No sense in multiple times of opening the front door.

I always loved watching for the mailman when I was a kid. Whether it was a Saturday, or summer break, there was always a bit of excitement seeing the mailman come by. And it was a disappointment when he just drove by without stopping. But most of the time he stopped, and then you could wonder what kind of surprises might be inside the mailbox.

Really, there weren't many surprises. Mom took the Capper's paper, and I think at that time it still came weekly – if not, it came at least every other week. Occasionally there would be a catalog in the mail. I could spend hours with the catalogs, going through them over and over again.

Mom has always been a letter writer and still continues that with her friends and family. When I was a kid, one grandmother lived in Independence, and the other set of grandparents lived in Jefferson City. And every Sunday night Mom would sit down at the kitchen table and write a letter for each household. I don't think either grandmother was as diligent writing back, but it was always fun when we got letters from them.

During my adolescent years, all the grandparents moved back to our home county. So Mom's weekly letter writing stopped, though she still had cousins and friends from high school that she kept up with regularly. Christmas card time would occasionally turn into a letter-writing marathon for her.

When I went to college, Mom went back to writing her weekly letters, this time to me. She would fill me in on what she and dad were doing on a daily basis. And one of the fun ways she filled up those letters and gave me more to read was giving me a daily recap of the soap operas we had watched together! A college friend of mine had watched the same soaps, so she would always hit me up to share the recap with her. Mom's weekly letters continued until I moved back home in late 1993.

And with her example to follow, I was a letter writer for a long time. As a teenager, I had two cousins that I kept in touch with by letter – one lived in southwestern Kansas and the other near Meadville. I enjoyed that connection. I tried to write fairly regularly to my folks during college. And once I was in other states, I made sure that I did write home every week. Sometimes when the kids were small it was a little difficult to find enough time. But I managed to write something.

Now my letter writing has morphed into the tech age – instead of writing letters, I zip off emails to family members. Hubby and I are fortunate that our parents keep up with technology......they have email accounts and both moms are on Facebook. With the two-hour time difference between hubby and his parents, it's almost easier to email than to try to make a phone call. I can email or Instant Message the kids when the need arises.

It was probably 11 years or so ago when I truly realized what a difference in communication was being made by the technology age – Son was in Germany for 2 ½ weeks on a special project with Missouri National Guard. One morning when I was at work, I sent him a quick email and got an immediate answer – it was almost his suppertime, and he was checking email before going to eat. We chatted back and forth for several minutes before he had to go. Even though I already knew it was possible, I was amazed.

Groceries

It was a good day for a shopping trip – well, any day is a good day for a shopping trip. This was a small-scale shopping trip – just 30 miles down the road, and we only stopped at the discount grocery store and the big box store. But it was a nice day for a drive and it was good to get out of town.

While our usual routine when I was growing up was making the 20-mile trek to town for groceries on Saturday, I remember a few times when Mom and Dad instead shopped on Fridays. It's been too long ago for me to remember why they did. But when they did shop on Fridays, they would often bring me a surprise. We had a store in town that stocked sheet music for the piano. One winter Mom would try to pick up a piece of sheet music for me every week. That was always fun.

I still have a few pieces of that music, especially the Christmas songs. They've had a lot of use over the years! Mom tended to buy the more basic, middle-of-the-road music. When I shopped the sheet music rack at that store, I would come home with the latest Beatles song. I was, though, a big fan of the music from Broadway musicals.

As I got into my teen years, I finally got to the point that it just wasn't exciting to come to town shopping every week. Part of that had to do with a Saturday morning TV show that showcased current rock and roll bands. So now and then I would opt to stay home by myself for the morning while Mom and Dad came to town. At least Mom could shop without my being picky about which checkout line we used.....that usually depended on which carry-out boys were working on that particular day!

One Saturday morning when I stayed home by myself, I heard a strange loud noise. It really made me uneasy. I peeked out the front door, trying to see what might be making the noise. The family dog was sitting in the front yard, looking at the empty driveway and making the most mournful sound. I called to her from the front door and told her she wasn't home alone. That took care of the noise. It made us all wonder if she did that every time we left.

When we moved into town during my junior year of high school, Mom went to work at the local restaurant. I think she worked six days a week – at any rate, it suddenly fell to me to do the grocery shopping. I didn't mind doing it – I had tagged after Mom for years with her shopping, and there had been frequent times that I'd done my grandmother's grocery shopping because she had to work. It just wasn't as much fun to be 17 and grocery shopping for your family. It probably would have been more fun if I'd been able to drive myself to the store, rather than being hauled around by Dad!

You'd think by this time in my life, grocery shopping would no longer be interesting or fun. But I find that I still enjoy it. There are always new products to check out, new things to try. With just today's trip, I know that in the near future we will have a batch of chili, a pot of Italian wedding soup, a yummy and healthy fudgey oatmeal that can be either breakfast or dessert. And that just scratches the surface. It's such fun to put ingredients together and see what you can create!

More Winter

Well, from a high of 56 yesterday around noon, we dropped to 5 degrees (with a wind chill I really don't want to discuss) this morning. We've managed to struggle up to 18 degrees mid-afternoon. But I'm watching a TV show from California's Napa Valley in the summer. It looks wonderful! And since I've been in the Napa Valley in June, the show helps me pull forward memories of the warm weather!

It's always a challenge to get through these winter months with a cheery outlook intact. Hubby and I were discussing just yesterday how slowly the month of January is passing – even though the days still seem like they're flying by! The weather just gets cold and overcast, the holidays are over and suddenly there's nothing going on. And time crawls.

My six winters in the Willamette Valley of Oregon were so different – and somewhat depressing. There is a large market of producing grass seed in the Valley......and this means when fall comes, the fields get burned off to get them ready for the next planting. Some days the smoke in the air was so thick! This usually happened in September. From there we slid into October and the beginning of the winter storms coming in off the Pacific. And the rain would start. The latter half of October and November saw hard rain and winds. Then the moisture would slow to a drip – and the air just dripped constantly through December, January, and February. In March the Pacific storms kicked up again. The temperature would usually stay above freezing, which was the one plus side of the heavy cloud cover.

I learned in Oregon to dread having what they called a “high sky”. If the clouds cleared up and we had blue sky in the winter, that usually meant the temps would plummet below the freezing point and it would be really cold. And that would mean frozen water pipes and occasionally snow or ice. You learned how to appreciate those rain clouds.

The winter son was born, my folks came to Oregon to help me out. Son tended to cry a lot, but it was usually late afternoon and evening (especially if you consider “evening” usually lasted until around 2 am). But one day he was making himself heard during the day. Dad sympathized with him and said the poor little guy was probably scared of whatever that bright yellow ball in the sky might be! I knew then Dad was ready to head back to Missouri and get out of the rain.

I looked so forward to getting back to the Midwest and “normal” winter weather when the move was made from Oregon to central Iowa in 1982. And wouldn't you know, the first winter there it was unseasonably warm and most of the winter consisted of heavy clouds, fog, and drippy rain. I was amazed at how much Iowa felt like Oregon that winter. The next two winters made up for that with plenty of frigid cold and snow.

I know when spring arrives, we'll look back and wonder how winter went by so fast. But until then, we'll keep plodding through the winter weather one day at a time.

Arguing

I'm learning how to argue. Most of my family is probably rolling on the floor laughing hysterically at this point. I'm sure none of them think I need to learn how to argue........in fact, they likely think I've had a lot of practice and could teach a class on that myself. (I love you all, too!)

I've started another online course called “Think Again – How To Reason And Argue”. And it's not really about arguing in the the sense of having a disagreement. It's about how to sway people to your point of view, or how to recognize when someone is doing that to you – think used car salesmen, or politicians. Or your teenagers.

As I listened to the first lecture last week, all I could think was that I wish I'd been able to take this course twenty years ago! My kids are so close together in age, I spent three and a half long years with three teenagers in the house. I was greatly out-numbered.....and then one of them decided to go into Speech & Debate. Ugh! Discussions with teenagers are always a challenge. But when one's been taught how to diffuse and refute every type of argument, it's very hard to win! Luckily, I could usually see through the situation and get us back on track – the words “this is NOT a debate!” were heard more than once.

Even as a little kid, I was spunky and wasn't afraid to stand up for myself within the family. That probably stemmed from being the only girl on Dad's side of the family, as well as being so much younger than my cousins. On Mom's side, one of her brothers just delighted in picking on me. He worked on the pipeline, so I didn't see him often. And because I didn't, I wasn't comfortable coming back at him when he picked on me. It did my heart good to see my oldest one get right back in his face the first time he picked on her – he got quite a kick out of her response. But I just took his teasing in silence.

My uncle acts so much like my Grandad did – Grandad was a teaser, too. But Grandad didn't intimidate me......well, not unless he started reaching for his belt. Then I knew I'd better change directions fast. And no, he never used it on any of the grandkids as far as I know. But the threat was all he ever needed. So when he would tease, he was okay if you shot a response back at him. Even though I was only 13 when we lost him, I remember clearly his telling me that I should grow up to be a lawyer.

I love and appreciate my high school. I know we got an amazing education there, with a lot of really outstanding teachers. But I always regretted not being able to go to a larger school with a more diverse curriculum. I thought being involved in Speech & Debate would be great. My school was just too small to be able to offer a lot of electives. We had business classes, home ec, and industrial arts. That was about it as far as non-core courses. I would have loved foreign language, art, drama.

Even when I went to college, I got an associate degree. So I had four semesters to get all my core courses done and very little room for electives. My biggest disappointment was talking my way into a journalism class, then having to drop it because is conflicted with one of my required courses. Bummer.

Mom commented the other day that I'm choosing “weird stuff” to study. Maybe. Or maybe I'm just going back and getting those things I didn't get from high school and college. Either way, I'm enjoying myself. And if I get to the point I'm not enjoying myself, I can walk away. That's the nice thing about having this site with the courses for free – I'm not investing anything but my time. And maybe I'll learn something in the process. 

Goodbye, Football

We decided to live on the edge today – we went to the local Mexican restaurant for lunch. Was it ever good! - but then I came home and felt like I needed to take a nap. That's what happens when you eat more than usual, as well as not cooking or doing the dishes. I tried to concentrate on some reading but eventually gave up. It just wasn't going to happen.

It got really cold last night. We had another extremely windy day yesterday, and it continued overnight. I didn't check the wind chill this morning......I really didn't want to know! It was nearly noon before the wind chill was above 10 degrees. It was really uncomfortable going out this morning. But that meant it wasn't at all crowded at the grocery store! In fact, we got to park in the spot closest to the door. That rarely happens.

The forecast says we'll be warmer tomorrow and in the mid 50's by Sunday. It will be nice to ditch the long johns for another few days. They keep me warm, but they also make my jeans feel too small! I really prefer being able to breathe.

I'm glad it's Friday. I don't know why, one day's not much different from the next these days. But it still feels good to realize the weekend is coming up. However, we realize we now have a dilemma. College football is over and there are only 3 NFL games left (plus the Pro Bowl). So what will we find to do on the weekends?

I've never figured out why I turned into such a football fan. I grew up in such a small school that we didn't play football because we didn't have enough students to make a team. I made all the home football games in college – I was in the band, so I didn't really have a choice. But over the years I've morphed into a football fan. In the fall, there's little doubt what I'll be doing on the weekends. And then when the season is over, I'm at a loss.

But time marches on and I'll be okay. The Olympics will be on in February and that will entertain me for awhile. And it will be a good time to make use of my library card. I'm sure there are several murder mysteries to solve that I haven't read yet. And if you really think about it, probably the best part of football season being over is that we're on the down-hill slide out of winter into spring! Warmth, sunshine, flowers, green grass. That sounds so good. Goodbye, football – hello spring!

Hair

Even though it's not cold today, the wind is howling. I'm not a big fan of the wind – it can cause too many problems. For instance, there are still loose random pieces of metal laying on the ground around the construction project next door. We called and let them know a couple of days ago when those pieces blew out into the street. The metal was moved from the street – and laid up next to the fence between the two properties. So for three days now we've heard that metal bang against the fence posts. At least the fence is stopping it from blowing over in our yard or against the Jeep!

Hubby had to crawl out of bed and into his clothes early yesterday morning so he could get the trash out to the street before the trash truck came by. It was much too windy Tuesday afternoon to put it out. Loose trash and other trash cans are blowing around the neighborhood.

For some reason this afternoon, one really strong gust of wind took me back to high school. We had the three different buildings, we had a dresses-only rule for the girls, and it was the late 60's and the era of the mini-skirt. I flashed back to really windy days when we were running from the classroom building to the gym building for lunch. And when the wind was really strong, there was always the mental struggle........do I hold onto my hair to try to keep it from blowing all around, or do I hold onto my skirt?? Of course, the skirt always won out. But some days it was a tough decision!

I've always had a love/hate relationship with my hair........and, to be honest, it's mostly been hate on my part. My hair has always had some natural curl to it – not enough for me to use to my advantage, but enough to seemingly give my hair a mind of its own. In the past 10-15 years, it has become a lot curlier, which has been a bit strange.

As far as I knew, kids my age didn't go to the beauty parlor for haircuts. Maybe others did, but it certainly wasn't part of my culture. Mom cut my hair. Most of the time it was kept really short, though there are a few photos when I was 4 that I had enough hair for pigtails – like Kathy in “Father Knows Best”. My hair was kept really short during the summer, then allowed to grow out enough for a perm when school started.

I know now that I had a different upbringing as an only child than my friends with siblings had. I think just because we were all used to the routine, Mom did my hair. I wasn't ever taught how to brush or curl my hair – and it never occurred to me to do it myself. Mom washed it, curled it, permed it, and brushed it. That's just how it was. I had a classmate who was from a family of five, four of them girls. I often wondered how her mom found the time to get everyone's hair done every morning for school.

The fall I was in 5^th grade, things got curious when my grandfather was having surgery and Mom was gone for several days at two or three different times. I was left during school with my hair, and not a clue as to what to do with it! And Dad was no help. Between us we managed to get the tangles brushed out and I remember resorting to wearing a headband to corral it out of my face. And still it didn't occur to me to learn how to brush or curl my hair! It amazes me now.

I finally rebelled around sixth grade. I didn't do it well, by any means. But, by golly, I curled and did my own hair! I don't know if Mom was glad or sad. But I know Dad rebelled when I started washing my hair every other night. It truly did need it, but we were still out on the farm with no running water. That extra hair washing meant a lot more night trips to the well.

I've irritated my own kids by cutting their hair at times, but it was usually out of economic necessity. They looked much better when they had a professional do it! And I feel like I still struggle with my hair. Every time I try a different style, I insist the stylist show and talk me through how to do it myself – they usually respond well when I tell them I'm hair illiterate! 

One Year In

We're getting very close to the one-year anniversary of our unemployment. It seems like it has been a very fast year. We've really become settled in our routine of premature retirement. We realized soon into our unemployment that the chances of finding jobs weren't good. Not only is the national economy less than stellar, it's even worse in our local area. In over ten months of sending our resumes, I was only called for one job interview. That job was replacing someone retiring after 28 years in their position. I knew there was no way I would get hired to replace her, not at my age.

No one ever says that, of course. But once you're past 60, you know that your chances of employment are very, very slim. So early on we started looking at our situation to see if we could make it financially once the unemployment ended. We realized that it would take some tweaking, but that we could do it. By the time the unemployment stopped at the end of the year, we had positioned ourselves well. And we both had become comfortable with using the term “retired”, even though neither of us had thought of retiring for quite some time.

In the meantime, we began discovering our “new normal”. Hubby discovered the world of podcasting, so we started doing daily weekday podcasts in an attempt to keep up with his former radio audience. The podcasts have evolved to a point we're both very comfortable with, and we enjoy doing it. Hubby spends a lot of time on the internet, looking for entertaining news and also learning more and more about the programs we use to do the podcasts and our blogs. I started doing this blog, and Hubby encouraged me to podcast it.

Early in our unemployment, I went on a housecleaning binge. For those who know me well, that wasn't a surprise. I clean when I'm upset or frustrated. But once I got the initial heavy cleaning done, the cleaning has leveled off to normal. I did some container gardening during the summer, replacing the vegetable plants with flowers once the vegetables were done. It was fun. I've found a wonderful website where I can take college courses at no charge. I can pick and choose what I study and when. I like to think it keeps me sharp!

I think the thing we like most is not having to hear an alarm every day. When we were working, that alarm went off at 5 am Monday through Saturday. Hubby still generally wakes up before I do, but I think we've both caught up on our sleep! Other than a random day here and there, the only time an alarm has been used was the week we took care of two of the grandkids. I knew I needed to be fully awake, showered and dressed before that 4-year-old whirlwind embraced the world every day.

Do I miss work? Well, some days I miss being productive. But then I find something that needs to be done around the house. I certainly don't miss the stress, or the drama. Hubby and I spent the first five years of our marriage working in different states and seeing one another on the weekends. So we really enjoy being together full time. And in the meantime, I have time to cook and create yummy food for us. Both of us are enjoying that.

All in all, I look back at the past year and feel like we've been pretty successful in navigating the world of unemployment...........and I'm glad to be at this point and feel good about being retired!

Hill Dill

This morning as I was cruising around Facebook, I noticed that my cousin had made a post for the Facebook group for our home town. He only posted two words: “Hill Dill!” There may have been some in that group who had no idea what that meant. But there are plenty of us who knew.

I don't know where Hill Dill originated – the name or the game itself – but it was a game we played on our school playground during recess, as well as sometimes before and after school. At the south end of the playground, bordering on the blacktop that ran through town, was a large grassy area. The two ends were slightly mounded up.

To play Hill Dill, there was one person in the middle of the grassy area who was “it”. Everyone else was gathered on the mound at one end of the field. “It” would call out “hill dill”, and everyone would race to the mound at the other end of the field. Everyone that “it” would tag during their dash across would then stay in the middle to tag people. And so it went, running from one end of the field to the other, until everyone had been tagged. Then we would do it all again.

Rare was the recess when there wasn't a Hill Dill game going on. It wasn't like we didn't have options. We had what I thought was one of the best playgrounds around. I can't begin to remember how many swing sets we had, but there were many. There were two slides, at least four teeter-totters, a monkey bar, and a large merry-go-round in the middle. There were trapeze swings on some of the swing sets, rings on at least one, and tetherball poles.

We had a lot of grass on the playground, but there was asphalt on part of it closer to the school building that gave us the opportunity to play outside even if the ground was muddy. I remember in fourth or fifth grade, there was a playground game talked about in one of our lessons – reading,maybe? I can't remember. But we decided to try it during recess and it became a staple for awhile. This one had two teams, two bases. One team was in the middle, and at a signal the members of the other team ran from one base to the other. The twist on this was that one member of the running team would be holding an object in their hand (usually a convenient pebble), and the tagging team tried to make sure they tagged the one holding the object. If they did, teams would switch positions.

All my life I've been klutzy. I'm one of those people who can walk across a flat surface and trip. I constantly have bruises on my arms because when I go through a doorway, I bump into one side. And when I was a kid, I constantly had bandaids on my knees, elbows, etc. Poor Mrs. Buzard, who was my class' teacher for three straight years, occasionally commented on how many bandaids she used on me!

But the worst was one day when we were playing that game I just talked about. We played that game on the asphalt, close to the school building. We were all running, either tagging or being tagged. And we were running pretty hard. One of my classmates cut in front of me too quickly for me to stop. And so I hit that asphalt at full speed. And slid. And, as I've commented on many times before, we had a dresses-only rule in school, so there was no protection on my legs. Somewhere during my slide, a third classmate who didn't have time to swerve ran into me. She hit my side with her foot hard enough to leave quite a bruise, causing her to go airborne and land a few feet away on her left hip.

Needless to say, that was the end of that game. I think the other casualty and I ended up in the office for those injuries. I had a bandaid on at least one elbow (if not both), one on my left knee. My right leg, though – the one I skidded on – ended up being bandaged from knee to ankle. I believe a note went home with me telling Mom if she didn't have gauze and tape at home that they would rebandage my leg at school the next day. That classmate and I spent about a week doing everything together, her left arm and my right arm linked together so no one would bump our injuries. I was glad when I could play again, and I'm sure it wasn't long until the next bandaid!

Libraries

What can I say – it's gorgeous! We've hit 50 degrees today, the third nice day in a row. The sun's shining brightly, though we have yet to lose all the snow in our front yard.....the down side to having a house that faces north.....it blocks the winter sun from the front yard! We even ventured out to the car wash with the Jeep yesterday.

I spent a lot of time reading over the weekend, and it made me think of all the time I've spent reading in my lifetime. Mom had taught in a one-room elementary school before she and Dad got married, and she had some of her school books that I loved to play school with. I don't think I was too old before I could make out some of the words and read the stories. I went to school in the era of Dick and Jane.....and Sally. I think we had stories about them for most of our elementary school years. See Spot run – run, Spot, run!

The school libraries were great. Each elementary room had its own library. I loved to get into those books. What I wasn't quite as fond of was the book reports that we were required to write every year. We had to do a certain number of reports – which increased as our grade level increased – and they were divided into categories. I never had a problem with “A” books, they were your run-of-the-mill library books. “B” books weren't too bad – those were the biographies of famous people. Sometimes we called them “Blue Books”, because they all seemed to have the same blue book cover. They were easy to spot! The “C” books were my nemesis. I think they had to be science related. I can't really remember for sure. But they definitely weren't in the category of book that I loved to read. Thank goodness the requirement for the “C” books was a lot less than the others.

Once we got to junior high, we had access to the big library. The bad news was that we had that same library for the final six years of school. A couple of us were pretty sure we'd read nearly every book in that library by the time we graduated. We looked forward to spring when the school would get new library books.

By junior high, we also got more exposure to literary books. Not only did we have the library books to read and report on, there were stories and excerpts in our language books. In eighth grade, our teacher (who was also the school principal) taught using the epic poems. She read them to us – and, bless her, she had a very monotone voice that made a good many of us have to fight off sleep. We had her again in tenth grade. We focused more on British literature – I think that year she read “A Tale Of Two Cities” to us. I also remember reading “Oliver Twist” for a special report for that class....I believe each student had a different book to report on.

Senior year was memorable for some earlier writings than we had explored – Chaucer, Shakespeare, “A Pilgrim's Progress”, “Beowulf”. I didn't get into those as much. The one lit class I took in college encompassed an interesting array of literature, including “Catch-22” as our final read.

Most of my reading now is for pleasure, though I am getting some “edifying” reading in the online classes I've been taking. Sometimes I feel a little guilty that I don't read for intellectual enrichment more, but that feeling usually passes without too much problem - I enjoy being entertained.

Food Musings

The weather continues to be......well, interesting. Yesterday it was overcast, mid 20's and spitting snow a bit of the day. There was no real accumulation, but the tiny little flakes were flying around. Today we got up to a very thin film of ice that melted away by mid-morning. But it remained very overcast, damp, and the fog just gets thicker and thicker outside. Looks like significantly better weather the next couple of days. I'm looking forward to it

.

The VA mobile unit was in town yesterday, and hubby had his annual checkup with them. It's so nice to have them come to us! After he was finished, we went to Chillicothe. It was one of those wonderful weeks when the stores had a lot of good stuff on sale – I love those weeks! We went to the regular grocery store and stocked up on their sale items before hitting good old wallyworld. From a money standpoint, it was a very beneficial trip. But it was nearly 2:30 when we got home, and I was pooped by the time we got everything put away. We hit the local grocery store today for their sale items.

There have been so many times over the years that I had to be a very prudent grocery shopper. I remember what was for me the early days of the warehouse grocery store, back in the mid 70's, when you pushed around what amounted to a large wooden flatbed on wheels and stacked your groceries – usually by the case – on it. That was in the days of being paid once a month, and it was a real challenge to buy a month's worth of groceries.

When the two older kids were tiny and we lived near Salem, Oregon, the local grocery stores carried milk in plastic bags. They had a special pitcher that went with the bags – you placed a half-gallon bag of milk in the pitcher, pulled the top corner of the bag through a slot on the rim of the pitcher and snipped the corner off. They were economical, but I never really got the hang of doing that!

When we lived in Portland, I happened on a small vegetable market near our home that sold gallons of milk in the regular plastic containers. But in true Oregon fashion, the milk would cost less if you would wash out and return the jugs to the market. They would be cleaned, sanitized, and re-used. It was a good idea – and if you know anything about Oregon and their being at the forefront of the “green” movement, it's not surprising they would come up with this concept.

When I was growing up on the farm, we had a very prolific milk cow. I was somewhere mid high school before I had milk from a store on a regular basis...........though Grandma and Grandad had delivery milk from Central Dairy, and I enjoyed that on our visits to Jefferson City. That cow was both a pet and a pain, but as a kid I never realized how much money she saved us at the store.

A neighborhood family had chickens and sold eggs commercially. Mom worked for them from the time I started school until they quit selling eggs when I was in high school. We were always able to have all the eggs we needed at a very reasonable price. It didn't matter that some of the shells were cracked or if they might be double-yolked. I think several of the neighbors bought their eggs there.

That egg farm was actually my first job – they took occasional vacations, and they paid me to help Mom process the eggs. I think I bought a pair of shoes with my first earnings. A few times over the years, all three of us would gather the eggs twice a day as well. That was when I learned that you don't yell at an old hen who is pecking your shoelace untied. There's nothing like the cacophony of a structure full of hundreds of hens cackling all at once – and there's really nothing like the dead silence that occurs immediately when a human raises their voice! I got in trouble for that one.

Reminiscences aside, I'm very pleased with this week's shopping excursions. I shouldn't need much at the store for the next few weeks, and that's always good for the budget!

The Frozen Cat

It's sunny but still cold today. We're in the mid 20's, but the wind chill is 16. It's still pretty miserable out there. In yesterday's blog I started out intending to go one direction and ended up going another. It happens. It's not unusual for me to get scatter-brained that way.....just ask my hubby!

There are so many professions that you have to admire in this nasty weather – those who work in public utilities, road crews, emergency workers. But as I mentioned yesterday, farmers really have it tough. Critters have to be fed and watered. And inevitably some little four-footed baby will decide it's time to be born.

It's nice that cattle waterers have been developed that keep the water above the freezing point so farmers no longer have to chop the ice on ponds. When the kids and I were living in that farm rental, the landlord used the farm itself for cattle. There were a couple of the electric waterers in the barn lot. It was so nice for the cattle to be able to drink whenever they wanted. However, they gave me one of my more memorable moments one frigid Saturday morning.

Older daughter was born the end of August. Because money was always tight, the poor kid was always shorted on her birthday gifts – I would have just finished getting three kids ready for school, then her birthday popped up. The year we were living in that farmhouse, I was totally broke. She had mentioned before she'd like to have a cat – someone I worked with had kittens just ready to leave their mama and had two for free – the price was right, and that was daughter's birthday gift that year.

Back to the cattle waterers - I was used to going out our back door every morning to feed the dogs and have the cats yowling for their food and water. One Saturday in December, that happened as normal. What wasn't normal was an early December frigid spell and snowstorm. Older daughter and son both worked in town and had bunked in town with friends when their Pizza Hut shifts were over on Friday night. So only younger daughter was at home with me – and since it was Saturday, she was sleeping in.

As I fed the dogs, one of the cats kept yowling. I was talking back as usual, telling him to be patient until I fed the dogs. Finally it dawned on me that the cat wasn't under my feet like he usually was by that time in our daily conversation. He yowled again and I started looking for him. As I followed the sound of his insistent little voice, I finally spotted him – on the side of that electric waterer in the barn lot.

I slid my way down to the barn lot, went through the gate, and headed to the cat, only to discover the silly thing had tried to climb up to get a drink – and his paws were frozen to the side of the unit where the cattle had sloshed water over the edge and down the side. Oh, my! The cattle weren't quite sure what to think of the cat and were standing around watching both of us. The only thing I could think to do was to slosh the water over the frozen little paws and try to loosen them. That was easier said than done – and, in case you wonder, keeping that water above the freezing point does not mean it's warm!! One paw at a time, I sloshed water over the paw until I thawed the ice holding it captive. As I loosened the paws, I had to grasp that loose paw in my other hand.......I learned that after the first loose paw flailed back against the waterer and instantly froze again.

I finally freed the cat, then almost got in my own predicament as I instinctively reached for the metal gate with my wet hand as we headed to the house – I caught myself just in time and switched the cat to that hand and used my dry one to open the gate. We got inside, I got younger daughter up and we fed the cat some warm milk and cleaned the ice off its paws with a towel. The cat was none the worse for wear.......I'm not sure I can say the same for me!