I hope all of you have read the Dolberry Gaffe List. It's very good, and funny. If I were to write a gaffe list it would take days and days and would finally end up as being one of the bigger gaffes of my life. Dolberry 's list went back to his years at Trinity. Only 25 gaffes in all of those years? Wow! He deserves an award!
When I was about 10 years old, I tried to go from the top floor of our house to the ground with out using the stairway. My intent was to climb out the attic window and cross the back porch roof there-by gaining access to the plum tree, get into the plum tree and climb down to the ground. Great plan! My younger brother assured me I could do it. Problem came about when I missed the limb of the tree that I had planned to access. Ground came up to meet me! I landed on my belly and lost my breath. We 're talking major pain but I survived. It's been one gaffe after another ever since.
These last days of 2009 have been filled with reviews of the year that is ending. Some sad or tragic reminders and some happy or poignant memories. My year has been the same way. I have some really high points and some very low points.
I was lucky enough to qualify to have my house weatherized, so I no longer have two and three hundred dollar utility bills. I went to Florida twice during the year, both times in January. We had the Fitzgerald Family Fun Festival at Andrea and Travis's in June. There are now sixty members of our immediate family and almost all of them were in attendance. I
went to Emerald Isle, N.C. in July and had a wonderful time with lots of good food and laughter and the ocean air. Great time! We had other family gatherings to celebrate birthdays,a graduation, (actually a retirement party) and other fun events, picnics with the Lally's, the Kentucky Derby where I had the winner! Ball games, where Nathan umpired, all so much fun.
In between all of the fun things I found out that I had an aggressive squamous cell cancer growth on my head that despite frequent visits to the dermatologist had gone undetected. I had surgery in August to have the tumor removed and then started radiation on the 16Th of August. I had to have 20 treatments. I had had radiation a few years ago, 30 treatments that time, so I was not too concerned about these sessions until I found out what was involved. It was not an easy thing.
I find it hard to write about the fact that in between the surgery and the treatments I found out that Fergus was terminally ill. I am still not ready to go into that yet. Suffice it to say that my life changed drastically.
The radiation finally came to an end and I was so relieved and thankful that it was over that adjusting to the bald spot on my head seems not nearly as traumatic as I thought it would be.
I have, on and off, been doing some volunteer work at Meredith-Dunn. That's a good thing, I get out of the house and get my mind on something other than my woes. When I came home from working on the 11Th of November, I found that my house had been robbed. All the things you have ever heard about an incident of this kind are true. I feel so violated and insulted and injured! My safe place, my haven has been profaned. Many items were stolen, most of them were sentimentally irreplaceable.
While I am still dealing with the repercussions of that violation, an intruder forced his way into my home. He must have been mentally ill or drugged or something because he referred to me as 'Mama' and even put his arm around me and kissed me on the top of my head! I used my "don't mess with me" voice and convinced him to leave my home but it left me feeling very vulnerable. I now have chain locks, and a peep hole and I am wondering about a moat, with maybe a crocodile or alligator in it.
My last adventure was rather humorous, I was subpoenaed to go to court and testify against the perpetrator of the robbery and before leaving the Hall of Justice, I used the rest room and when I was ready to leave I found that the door to the stall that I was in, was blocked by something and I could not get out! Being trapped in a filthy public rest room stall is not a good thing. Linda heard my shouts and came in and liberated me.
The good the bad and the ugly. But when all is said and done it was a wonderful year for me because I survived! Eighty-five and still alive! HAPPY NEW YEAR! Ciao.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Year's End
2009 will soon be a part of history. It had its high points and its low points but that can be said of each and every year. Life just keeps moving on and will do so with or without us. I feel very fortunate to have lived to be as old as I am. Life 85 years ago was so far removed from what life is like today. I wonder what my grand parents and parents would have thought of some of the advances and innovations of today. I read an article just the other day about the people that were sentenced to prison for 20years and are now eligible for parole. Some of them were interviewed and asked how it felt to be free again. They expressed awe and confusion at what they found in the world now. One said he had been looking forward to being released and had even written drafts of his resume and practiced what he would say to convince employers to hire him. He thought about career paths he could explore. Then he was released into the world of today and found himself totally bewildered and confused and illiterate. He had no technology experience and found that life had gone on without him. That happened in just 20 years! Think of all of the changes that I have witnessed in my 85 years. There were very few automobiles (that's what they were called) and very few telephones. The telephones were all on party lines and you shared one line with one, two or three neighbors. You answered the phone according to how many rings your line had. One, two, three or four rings accordingly. There were some two party lines but they were more expensive. At first, as I recall, you picked up the receiver and an operator was there to ask: "Number, please?" You gave the number you were calling and she connected you to the person you wanted to reach. In about 1941 I had started dating Doc and I went to London, O. for Christmas celebrations. My grandparents lived back to back and we spent time at one or the other house all day long. Doc tried to call me from Springfield, O. to wish me a Merry Christmas and was overwhelmed by the fact that the operator said when he asked for the number, "I'll try her Grandma Charters first but if she is not there she'll be at her Grandmother Morrissey's. So be patient ." He was totally astonished!
Progress came about and the operators were done away with, (not killed off' just laid off) and replaced by automation, no more personal touches. No more party lines, no more operators, dial phones came to be. No more phones that had receivers separate from the stand up phone with the dial on the base. Princess phones came into being. Good Golly Miss Molly, if your number was filled with 9's or 0's it took forever to dial it. Touch tone phones came along and made life easier. But you were still tethered to the phone line.
I went to Washington, D.C. in 1998 and as we drove around town we all marveled at the people walking along the streets talking on phones! Imagine that ! We heard stories about the rays or whatever going into their brains from these phones and visualized a nation of Sony heads or nuts walking around. ( We were not too far off the mark there, I fear).
It was just a matter of time until we all had our own phones that we could walk around with. I had to buy a special purse to carry mine in because it was so big. I got one so that I could call Doc from school or where ever and he could answer on the portable phone. He thought it was ridiculous and refused to carry it or have anything to do with it! You would have thought it was Witch Craft!
Now everyone has a cell phone and land lines (house hold phones) are becoming obsolete. No more phone booth es. It used to be if you were in the grocery and heard people talking you skirted around them with caution thinking they might be unhinged. Now, when people shout, " Hello!" Don't answer back because you will get some sour looks from your fellow shoppers. Its not so intimidating when you can see the phone they are holding up to their ears but when they have both hands free to choose items off the shelves and are still talking (loudly) about Aunt Opal's confrontation with the po-lice or how wasted they were the night before you do begin to worry. Pay attention to their ears! Those are not hearing aids! Where does it go from here? Do try to look uninterested and ponder your selections seriously because if you stare they might take your picture on their phone camera and later accuse you of eaves dropping.... And our ancestors thought the frontiers were dangerous! Woe betide us. Ciao
Progress came about and the operators were done away with, (not killed off' just laid off) and replaced by automation, no more personal touches. No more party lines, no more operators, dial phones came to be. No more phones that had receivers separate from the stand up phone with the dial on the base. Princess phones came into being. Good Golly Miss Molly, if your number was filled with 9's or 0's it took forever to dial it. Touch tone phones came along and made life easier. But you were still tethered to the phone line.
I went to Washington, D.C. in 1998 and as we drove around town we all marveled at the people walking along the streets talking on phones! Imagine that ! We heard stories about the rays or whatever going into their brains from these phones and visualized a nation of Sony heads or nuts walking around. ( We were not too far off the mark there, I fear).
It was just a matter of time until we all had our own phones that we could walk around with. I had to buy a special purse to carry mine in because it was so big. I got one so that I could call Doc from school or where ever and he could answer on the portable phone. He thought it was ridiculous and refused to carry it or have anything to do with it! You would have thought it was Witch Craft!
Now everyone has a cell phone and land lines (house hold phones) are becoming obsolete. No more phone booth es. It used to be if you were in the grocery and heard people talking you skirted around them with caution thinking they might be unhinged. Now, when people shout, " Hello!" Don't answer back because you will get some sour looks from your fellow shoppers. Its not so intimidating when you can see the phone they are holding up to their ears but when they have both hands free to choose items off the shelves and are still talking (loudly) about Aunt Opal's confrontation with the po-lice or how wasted they were the night before you do begin to worry. Pay attention to their ears! Those are not hearing aids! Where does it go from here? Do try to look uninterested and ponder your selections seriously because if you stare they might take your picture on their phone camera and later accuse you of eaves dropping.... And our ancestors thought the frontiers were dangerous! Woe betide us. Ciao
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas 2009
I am celebrating my 85th Christmas. I was born in November so I was only a month old on my first Christmas. I really don't recall the Christmases between then and my 6th Christmas. We had moved from Springfield, O to Cincinnati, O because of the economy. We were just on the edge of the Great Depression. Dad got a job that paid more than his railroad job so we moved. On that Christmas Santa brought my sister, Mart, and I a wicker doll buggy and a cradle. We were to share that. We each got a baby doll too. The baby doll had a cloth covered body and a china head, arms and legs. When she was turned over she cried "ma ma" and when she was placed on her back she closed her eyes. Those were very new features for a doll baby to have.
I loved the doll buggy! In a few years, three or four, we moved back to Springfield and I used to use the buggy to take my dog, Trixie, a walk. She was very cooperative and would lie in the buggy and even tolerate a cover on her. The people we met along the way always remarked about what a cute 'baby' I had.The doll baby, Betsy, stayed in our room in the cradle. She occasionally got to go for a walk.
Christmas was a magical time. We would always spend it in London, O. with my Grandparents. As I mentioned, times were not good; the Depression years were very hard on most of America. We never, ever received elaborate gifts. Agnes and Catherine, my mother's sisters were both single women and lived with Grandma and Grampa Morrissey. They usually got us new pajamas and sometimes a scarf or mittens. Santa brought sox and maybe a new dress or sweater and as an extra treat if Mother could afford it we would get an orange and a candy cane or some hard tack in our stocking. Still, it was so great to be with all of our relatives and enjoy the good food and good conversations. ( We were listeners. Children were seen and not heard!)
As the years went by, the traditions did not change, we looked forward to that special day and it continued to be magical. The presents were still not elaborate. On top of the Depression we also suffered through the worst drought that the country had ever seen and since most of my relatives were farm people we second or third hand felt the affects of the drought.
The focus was on the religious celebration and the story of Christmas. Helping other children and helping people that were lonely and/or ill. Warm clothes and food and a warm place to stay were uppermost in the scheme of things.
The contrast between then and now is so vast that it would take many pages to try to evaluate it and to conjecture about the cause of the change. I am not one to want to go back to 'the good old times' because I know that we had plenty of hardships and unhappiness then but we are definitely lacking some of the innocence and the civility that we had in the times past.
I have so many thoughts and ideas running around in my brain , so many things I would like to write about or comment on but I'm afraid I would get bogged down with comparisons that are not relative to my own existance.
I do still feel the magic of Christmas and still see the joy and innocence in the eyes of my grandchildren and great grandchildren. I am heartened by their joy and feel the love of their parents and hope that they can keep that alive in their hearts throughout their lives. I hope they do not become jaded and disillusioned by the harsh world we live in. Ciao
I loved the doll buggy! In a few years, three or four, we moved back to Springfield and I used to use the buggy to take my dog, Trixie, a walk. She was very cooperative and would lie in the buggy and even tolerate a cover on her. The people we met along the way always remarked about what a cute 'baby' I had.The doll baby, Betsy, stayed in our room in the cradle. She occasionally got to go for a walk.
Christmas was a magical time. We would always spend it in London, O. with my Grandparents. As I mentioned, times were not good; the Depression years were very hard on most of America. We never, ever received elaborate gifts. Agnes and Catherine, my mother's sisters were both single women and lived with Grandma and Grampa Morrissey. They usually got us new pajamas and sometimes a scarf or mittens. Santa brought sox and maybe a new dress or sweater and as an extra treat if Mother could afford it we would get an orange and a candy cane or some hard tack in our stocking. Still, it was so great to be with all of our relatives and enjoy the good food and good conversations. ( We were listeners. Children were seen and not heard!)
As the years went by, the traditions did not change, we looked forward to that special day and it continued to be magical. The presents were still not elaborate. On top of the Depression we also suffered through the worst drought that the country had ever seen and since most of my relatives were farm people we second or third hand felt the affects of the drought.
The focus was on the religious celebration and the story of Christmas. Helping other children and helping people that were lonely and/or ill. Warm clothes and food and a warm place to stay were uppermost in the scheme of things.
The contrast between then and now is so vast that it would take many pages to try to evaluate it and to conjecture about the cause of the change. I am not one to want to go back to 'the good old times' because I know that we had plenty of hardships and unhappiness then but we are definitely lacking some of the innocence and the civility that we had in the times past.
I have so many thoughts and ideas running around in my brain , so many things I would like to write about or comment on but I'm afraid I would get bogged down with comparisons that are not relative to my own existance.
I do still feel the magic of Christmas and still see the joy and innocence in the eyes of my grandchildren and great grandchildren. I am heartened by their joy and feel the love of their parents and hope that they can keep that alive in their hearts throughout their lives. I hope they do not become jaded and disillusioned by the harsh world we live in. Ciao
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Day Late
This picture goes with the blog that I wrote yesterday about my failed cookie baking session. I tried to put the picture on yesterday but I could not seem to remember how I had accomplished that feat the last time. Gregg came today and he showed me how to do it. It's actually easy to do, it's just hard to figure out how to do it.
Today I'm going to try to make cashew chicken. I'll see how difficult that is. I'm hoping it will be edible.Ciao
Saturday, December 19, 2009
STM
One would think that 67 years of marriage, six children, fourteen grandchildren, twenty-five great-gtandchildren would equip one with the skills to bake cookies! One would think that but it may not be the case. Perhaps there is such a thing as too much experience. a few weeks ago I had some Spice Cookies extrodinair that Rachel had baked. ( a relatively new cookie maker). I ask for the recipe and went to the store to buy the ingredients and commenced to begin baking. I made the mistake of following the recipe exactly. Something that I have strayed away from throughout the years. I use the recipe as a guide to the ingredients and the ratios involved in baking or cooking anything.
As anyone that cooks often, knows, you have to make judgements about how much or how little of certain items need to be added to suit your taste or the taste of the group you are cooking for. I make judgements on how the food looks. If you are baking a cake you learn to look into the oven and see if the cake looks done. Same with most things you cook. Pasta is done when it reaches a certain color, it may be finished before the amount of time that the directions on the box suggested or it may take longer. You have to use your own experiences.
With the cookies that I made, as I said, I stuck to the recipe, I first of all, sifted the dry ingredients three times, as directed. I used actual measuring spoons to measure out the spices, something that I don't always do, you'd be surprized at how accurately you can measure a tsp. of salt in the cupped palm of your hand. Beating the egg before it is mixed in with the other ingredients, there are times when that does not matter. Other times when it does matter. Learn the difference by experience.
I actually pre-heated the oven, I am frequently lax when it comes to that step. If I forget to pre-heat I make allowances for that when I set the timer. Your nose often tells you when it is time to check on the items you're cooking. Approximate the time as a rule. You can set the timer for the required amount of time that the recipe calls for but it is not always 100% accurate. How does it look, how does it 's aroma strike you? Does it look done? Does it smell done? you be the judge.
On my spice cookies, as I said, I followed the recipe to a tee! But alas, poor cookies! They looked like 'cow patties'. Not anything at all like Rachel's. I did eat a few of them and they did taste Ok but they did not satisfy my cookie yearning. The memories of my Grandmother's Ginger Snaps did not dance in my head, as they had with Rachel's. They were an embarrassment. I had to dispose of the rest of the dough after doctoring it up a bit, trying to come up with the right combination for success. No,it was a failed mission. When my wounded pride recovers, I will try again. The next time I'll do it my way! Ciao
As anyone that cooks often, knows, you have to make judgements about how much or how little of certain items need to be added to suit your taste or the taste of the group you are cooking for. I make judgements on how the food looks. If you are baking a cake you learn to look into the oven and see if the cake looks done. Same with most things you cook. Pasta is done when it reaches a certain color, it may be finished before the amount of time that the directions on the box suggested or it may take longer. You have to use your own experiences.
With the cookies that I made, as I said, I stuck to the recipe, I first of all, sifted the dry ingredients three times, as directed. I used actual measuring spoons to measure out the spices, something that I don't always do, you'd be surprized at how accurately you can measure a tsp. of salt in the cupped palm of your hand. Beating the egg before it is mixed in with the other ingredients, there are times when that does not matter. Other times when it does matter. Learn the difference by experience.
I actually pre-heated the oven, I am frequently lax when it comes to that step. If I forget to pre-heat I make allowances for that when I set the timer. Your nose often tells you when it is time to check on the items you're cooking. Approximate the time as a rule. You can set the timer for the required amount of time that the recipe calls for but it is not always 100% accurate. How does it look, how does it 's aroma strike you? Does it look done? Does it smell done? you be the judge.
On my spice cookies, as I said, I followed the recipe to a tee! But alas, poor cookies! They looked like 'cow patties'. Not anything at all like Rachel's. I did eat a few of them and they did taste Ok but they did not satisfy my cookie yearning. The memories of my Grandmother's Ginger Snaps did not dance in my head, as they had with Rachel's. They were an embarrassment. I had to dispose of the rest of the dough after doctoring it up a bit, trying to come up with the right combination for success. No,it was a failed mission. When my wounded pride recovers, I will try again. The next time I'll do it my way! Ciao
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Chain Letters or whatever.
I would like to send out a memo to all of my e-mail correspondents and beg for a moratorium on threatening chain letters. I'm sure you know the ones I am talking about. It states up front that you are a valued friend and they want to share with you this lovely prayer, poem, boo hoo story or whatever. It frequently warns you to be sure you read it to the end. Whatever you do, DO NOT DELETE! A pox on your house if you do that!
On some of them there is a 'boo hoo' story about some unfortunate person that was on the brink of disaster when the letter arrived on their computer telling them to say the following prayer and then send it on to 10, 15, or 20 other people within 5 minutes of reading and then sit back and see what happens in four hours, or 24 hours or within the next half hour or so. The 'boo hoo' person recovered, miraculously and now drives a BMW and lives in a mansion.
There is a subtle threat that if you do not abide by the rules and meet the deadline...woe betide you! I have requested that a few of my friends(?) not send any more of these to me because I have an aversion to threats. Some people accommodated me and ceased while others doubled up on them.
I can be gullible at times and I did send them on to other unfortunate people that used to be my friends but I am now rethinking my future participation in these activities.
In recent months, while waiting for the good things promised to me if I participated, my dearly loved Fergus died, soon after that the dermatologist discovered a rapidly growing, aggressive squamous cell cancer on my head, I had to have surgery and then have twenty radiation treatments and then my house was broken into and much of my jewelry stolen. I was subpoenaed for a court appearance to testify against the perp, and upon leaving the Hall of Justice I stopped for a rest room break and by some trick of fate I could not get the stall door open to get out of the restroom and had to stay there yelling my head off to get Linda's attention to spring me. The filthy, obscene writings on the wall of the stall were less than profound. Profane, yes, profound ? No.
One might think I'd had enough, but no, Yesterday a man forced his way into my living room and put his arm around me and kissed me on the top of my head, just missing my bald spot left by the radiation, and called me "Mama" I had never seen this man before in my life and told him to get out of my house! He wanted to sit on the sofa and tell me about the antique store he was going to open down by Walmart. I raised such a fuss and finally clutched my chest to try to quell my heart jumping out and convinced him to leave! Whew! He was still referring to me as Mama.
I called 911 and they were very prompt, four policemen, two cruisers arrived in just a few minutes. I had looked very closely at the intruder and knew the color and type of shoes he was wearing, his jeans, jacket color and ball hat color and his size along with the make and type of truck he was driving. Be on the lookout for a white Ford pick up truck, not a crew cab, and a guy about 6'2 that's going to open up an antique store down by Walmart! Yeah, right!
Back in the days of the Great Depression we had lots of indigents and homeless people, we called them tramps or hobos. They went from door to door looking for hand outs. Mother always found some thing to give them to eat, like a home made jelly sandwich or something. We were not out on the street but close! The tramps or hobos would mark an X on the fence or gate post to let the other less fortunates know that this house may give them a bite. I'm going out to look to see if there is an X on my house. They don't seem interested in food but jewelry and things of that nature seem to be a priority.
If the things that have happened to me lately are the rewards, no, wait a minute, they didn't say they would be good things they just said, "You'll be surprised!" OK, mission accomplished, I've been very surprised and now am ready to hit the return to sender button for chain letters from now on. Be aware and stay alive! Ciao
On some of them there is a 'boo hoo' story about some unfortunate person that was on the brink of disaster when the letter arrived on their computer telling them to say the following prayer and then send it on to 10, 15, or 20 other people within 5 minutes of reading and then sit back and see what happens in four hours, or 24 hours or within the next half hour or so. The 'boo hoo' person recovered, miraculously and now drives a BMW and lives in a mansion.
There is a subtle threat that if you do not abide by the rules and meet the deadline...woe betide you! I have requested that a few of my friends(?) not send any more of these to me because I have an aversion to threats. Some people accommodated me and ceased while others doubled up on them.
I can be gullible at times and I did send them on to other unfortunate people that used to be my friends but I am now rethinking my future participation in these activities.
In recent months, while waiting for the good things promised to me if I participated, my dearly loved Fergus died, soon after that the dermatologist discovered a rapidly growing, aggressive squamous cell cancer on my head, I had to have surgery and then have twenty radiation treatments and then my house was broken into and much of my jewelry stolen. I was subpoenaed for a court appearance to testify against the perp, and upon leaving the Hall of Justice I stopped for a rest room break and by some trick of fate I could not get the stall door open to get out of the restroom and had to stay there yelling my head off to get Linda's attention to spring me. The filthy, obscene writings on the wall of the stall were less than profound. Profane, yes, profound ? No.
One might think I'd had enough, but no, Yesterday a man forced his way into my living room and put his arm around me and kissed me on the top of my head, just missing my bald spot left by the radiation, and called me "Mama" I had never seen this man before in my life and told him to get out of my house! He wanted to sit on the sofa and tell me about the antique store he was going to open down by Walmart. I raised such a fuss and finally clutched my chest to try to quell my heart jumping out and convinced him to leave! Whew! He was still referring to me as Mama.
I called 911 and they were very prompt, four policemen, two cruisers arrived in just a few minutes. I had looked very closely at the intruder and knew the color and type of shoes he was wearing, his jeans, jacket color and ball hat color and his size along with the make and type of truck he was driving. Be on the lookout for a white Ford pick up truck, not a crew cab, and a guy about 6'2 that's going to open up an antique store down by Walmart! Yeah, right!
Back in the days of the Great Depression we had lots of indigents and homeless people, we called them tramps or hobos. They went from door to door looking for hand outs. Mother always found some thing to give them to eat, like a home made jelly sandwich or something. We were not out on the street but close! The tramps or hobos would mark an X on the fence or gate post to let the other less fortunates know that this house may give them a bite. I'm going out to look to see if there is an X on my house. They don't seem interested in food but jewelry and things of that nature seem to be a priority.
If the things that have happened to me lately are the rewards, no, wait a minute, they didn't say they would be good things they just said, "You'll be surprised!" OK, mission accomplished, I've been very surprised and now am ready to hit the return to sender button for chain letters from now on. Be aware and stay alive! Ciao
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)