Tim sent me the link. Very funny but also scary considering they can vote, too.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
We moved back to Lincoln when I was 8. I was in the 3rd grade. I don’t remember the teacher but I do remember Adams School. It was a 2 room schoolhouse and was just a few blocks from where we lived with “Mom”. First and second grades were in one room and third and fourth were in the other. There were 2 teachers…one for each room. The only real memory I have of attending Adams is coming home with a plastic bag with a couple of guppies. Guppies are baby fish. Not sure what they grew into. I think gold fish. I remember my mother and grandmother saying “no way”. Guppies were like rabbits and I’d end up with millions. I begged and begged. I finally wore them down and my grandmother gave me a bowl to put them in. I promised to take care of them. My mother gave me some money to go buy fish food. I fed them every time I walked by the fish bowl. They had to eat, after all. Well, they didn’t have to worry about millions of guppies. After a few days the guppies were belly up. I think I over fed them. End of story.
Here’s a picture of Adams School:
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
I’m stuffed. Happy Valentine’s Day!
Thursday, February 09, 2012
As I get older it has become important to me to try to remember stuff and write it down. Stories told to me as a young adult went in one ear and out the other. My Dad talked about being a POW during World War II only one time. He was in Patton’s Third Army, went in with the group that liberated a POW camp that Patton’s son-in-law was in and then ended up being captured by the Germans on the way out. I would give anything today to have had a recording of that conversation. He never would talk about it again. Hopefully, some day my grandkids, nieces and nephews will find and read this blog to get a sense of who their family was (is). My mother and grandmother use to tell stories about their parents and grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, children born and died young. My mother lived in New Harmony, Indiana and remembered when a devastating tornado came through and killed hundreds of people. She helped to pull bodies from the wreckage. She also told me about her first marriage to Bill Hyatt. She didn’t really want to marry him but when he showed up at my Aunt Dena’s cabin (where she was staying) in a wagon pulled by horses she got in and they went to town to get married. I do remember my Aunt Dena. She had a twin sister named Lena. I don’t think I ever met her. I’m not positive but I think they were my grandmother’s sisters. My family history is murky. Aunt Dena was a little looney. She not only smoked a corn cob pipe but kept dead copperhead snakes in some sort of liquid in quart jars. Ii have no idea why. Maybe that’s why my mother got in the wagon!
Wednesday, February 08, 2012
Started a post on more family history but it’s late and my mind is wandering. Saved it as a draft and will work on it later.
Been doing SkyMed presentations. For 20 minutes of SkyMed attendees then get a chicken dinner (or lunch). We started doing the presentations in November. I’m sick of chicken.
Made a Nutella cheesecake. Basically just cream cheese, a little sugar, vanilla and a jar of Nutella. Dump in an Oreo cookie crust. Yummy.
Watched a couple good movies. This evening was The Greatest Game Ever Played. It’s a true golf story in the early 1900’s. Didn’t recognize any of the characters. The other was Secondhand Lions with Robert Duvall and Michael Caine. Great movie. Tim actually stayed awake for both.
Growing tomatoes. It’s a contest between the birds and me to see who’s going to get the tomatoes first. We’re about even.
I have a headache. Too much chicken.
Time to go to bed. Lucy’s already snoring.
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
Lorie seems to think my recent blogging is going to lead to my writing a memoir. Definition (loosely) of a memoir is it’s sort of like an autobiography. Well, I think I agree with Will Rogers: "Memoirs means when you put down the good things you ought to have done and leave out the bad ones you did do." There’s a WHOLE LOT I wouldn’t put in writing. I can just see it now. Granddaughter Audrey sneaking up on a sleeping grandmother (me) with a glass of water in her hand to put my fingers into so she can find out all of my secrets. At some point I would like to be able to print off the posts I have done, make a front and back cover with bright colored construction paper (like I did in third grade) and staple it to make it resemble a book. It’s a pain to scroll through the archives to try and find a post I did a couple of years ago. I guess I could call it a memoir!
Monday, February 06, 2012
My family is pretty small. I have one brother who is 10 years older than me. As a child I don’t remember much about him. I know he was around at least for the first 8 years of my life but I have very few memories of interaction with him. One memory I do have is when I was about 5 or 6 and I was getting a spanking from my mother (across the knee kind) and my brother was peaking around the corner laughing at me. I also remember he let me sit on his lap and steer his car as we drove through a park. I was 8 when we moved in with my grandmother (mother’s side). We called my grandmother “Mom”. Everyone called her Mom. We had moved back to Lincoln from Springfield, OH and my brother stayed in Ohio to attend Ohio State University. I didn’t really connect with my brother until I was in my 20’s. Since then our connection and interaction has been strong. It’s just the first 20 years I don’t have a lot of memories of him. I also only have a picture or two of us in those early years. This one was a couple of years ago when we visited he and Mimi in Alabama.
I do have vivid memories of “Mom’s” house. It was small. Two bedrooms large enough to hold a double bed and a small dresser. You couldn’t walk around the bed. It fit wall to wall backed in to a wall. Only one side was open. One person would have to crawl over the other person to get in or out of bed. I slept on the “davenport”…for 7 years. The house had electricity but no indoor plumbing, water, bathroom, or furnace. There was a coal stove in the living room for heat and a coal cooking stove in the small kitchen. I used to carry coal in each morning from the coal bin at the back of the yard. I would fill the coal bucket with the largest chunks I could find but Mom would make me take them back and get the smaller pieces. They would burn faster. I also had to rake the ashes from the stove. The outhouse was by the coal bin. I hated the outhouse. I think it was a two holer…but, I never shared it with anyone. I hated the chamber pots more. Baths were on Saturday night in large granite tubs heated with water from the kettle on the stove. Laundry was done in a winger-washer machine and hung outside on clotheslines…year round. There were no dryers. Have you ever taken frozen clothes off a clothes line? I have. Ironing was done with cast iron irons. The kind you leave on the cooking stove to get hot. She also had coal oil lamps. She would leave one lit in the parlor each night.
We’re not talking about the 1920’s, 30’s or 40’s. We moved in with Mom in 1956! And, the house was in the middle of town. I forgot to mention it sat on a street right across from the railroad tracks…maybe about 75 feet from the front porch. I use to watch the trains go by with hobos in the box cars. There were cabooses, too. I miss seeing a caboose on a train. It’s like an uncompleted act. The house would shake whenever a train passed. There was also an air raid/tornado siren next to the tracks. It’s a wonder I got any sleep.
Sunday, February 05, 2012
Tim not only wanted to know where my Will was he also wanted to know if the pressure cooker came with an instruction booklet so he could see what I did wrong after I blew myself up.
Yes, I’ve read the instructions. No, I don’t understand them. There’s a green thingy and a red thingy. You decide which thingy you use based on the amount of pressure you want. I’m thinking the red thingy would blow the roof off the motorhome. (We do have insurance but I should probably check under the “exclusions list”.) The pressure cooker is a Fagor, circa 1997. I think that’s a good thing since they’ve still got a website. I’ve also surfed for pressure cooker cookbooks and there’s a couple on Amazon that look like interesting. So, in the meantime I’ve got a ham bone in the freezer and dried beans in the pantry. I’m sure Tim and Lucy will be checking into the local motel once I bring the pressure cooker in the motorhome.
Saturday, February 04, 2012
I’ve wanted one for a long time. I have absolutely no idea how they work. I have no idea why I thought I had to have one. Or, what would I do with it. Well, as of today I am the proud owner of a pressure cooker. Today was “yard sales” at everyone’s lot here in Outdoor Resorts in Indio, CA. The golf cart was fully charged and I backed it out of our lot at 8 AM in search of purchases I couldn’t live without. Of course, I had no money. I never have any cash…but I took my check book in case I could convince someone there was money in the account. Ta dah! I hit the jackpot. I found not only a pressure cooker but they also had corelle dishes. The pressure cooker was $10.00 and the corelle dishes for 8 was $5.00!! She agreed to the check only if I replaced it for cold hard cash. Well, I knew I couldn’t get cash from Tim since I’m the one who doles out $$ to him. I could always go to the store and get “cash back” but I was too lazy to leave the resort. We had dinner with friends last night who said “I can spot you…just let me know what you need.” So, putting the golf cart in go…I found out how fast that puppy could go. You see, my friends were out and about checking on yard sales too. Took awhile to track them down…but ended up not as hard as I thought it would be since the batteries died on their golf cart and they were an easy find dead in the street!! He gave me 2 $20’s…I only needed $15.00…so I had money left over to buy a coffee pot, coffee grinder and 8 cups.
I think pressure cookers can blow their top if you don’t follow the directions closely. I’ll let you know.
Thursday, February 02, 2012
Most of my memories are from the Nazarene side. My Grandmother and Aunt Sara and Uncle Russ went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday night and on Wednesdays. I managed to escape Sunday night and Wednesdays. My Grandfather managed to escape, as well, including Sunday mornings. Not sure how he got away with it but he did. Come to think of it, my father escaped, too. After Sunday morning church I would go back to my Grandmother’s house for a big Sunday meal. My Grandmother would then take her afternoon nap and my cousins and I would wait until we thought she was asleep, crawl on our knees keeping as quiet as 3 young girls could, with me holding a glass of water. You see, we had heard somewhere if you put a sleeping person’s fingers (just the fingers) in a glass of water they would spill the beans about anything you asked them!! We knew Grandmother had secrets and we wanted to know what they were. Well, it didn’t quite work out the way we thought it would. I spilled the glass of water, we started laughing and woke Granny up. Needless to say, we had some explaining to do.
My other memory is when the Nazarene Grandmother took my cousins and I to church camp. Don’t remember much about it except every night we would all form a big circle and each person would give their testimony. I was about 10 or 12 years old and I wasn’t sure what “testimony” was. I felt guilty because I just knew I didn’t have “it” after listening to the other kids speak of seeing the light, hear the calling or meeting up with the Three Kings. I would look at my cousins and even they managed to come up with something original. I really knew I was screwed then. When it was my turn I basically said “ditto”. After the 3rd night my Grandmother caught on to my “dittos” and I got THE look. That was the end of Church camp.
I checked out of organized religion when I was about 15. And, I stayed checked out for a very long time.
Wednesday, February 01, 2012
I grew up in a small town in central Illinois. Lincoln, IL. Population 16,000…today, 2012, still 16,000 people. We lived with my grandmother (on my mother’s side) in a 2 bedroom house, no bathroom, coal stove in the living room for heat, coal cooking stove in the small kitchen…wait, that will be another post. What today’s memory is about is going to church. My grandmother (on my Dad’s side) also lived in Lincoln along with my Aunt Sara and Uncle Russ and various cousins. My mother’s side was Baptist. The no drinking, dancing kind. My grandmother – Dad’s side – was an ordained Nazarene minister – the kind who came to the alter, got down on their knees and pound the day lights out of it. I was never sure what the purpose was. One Sunday I would go to the Baptist Church. The next would be to the Nazarene Church. Both churches scared the hell out of me. They preached fire, hell and brimstone. Still don’t know what brimstone is. I just knew I was in trouble and was going to hell. I sang in the Nazarene church choir with my cousins until we got kicked out for having the giggles. We use to poke each other about the different people who went to the alter to pound the crap out of it. Some were very vocal and really laid into that alter. I was baptized in the Baptist church. Don’t remember how old I was…I just was afraid I would drown. I was sure the preacher knew I had been at the “rec” the night before dancing up a storm and this was his chance to get even for my sins. I had a lot of guilt about going to church. Didn’t like it. Scared of it. Didn’t understand the God, Jesus, Holy Spirit thing. No one could explain (nor did anyone try to) how we went from Adam and Eve to the kajillon people of all different races. I did like the songs. Still do. More Church memories tomorrow.