tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-52863735879540436492024-02-19T02:01:54.409-05:00The Musing MoonRambles, rants and raves...lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-48596689450951454692015-04-19T13:43:00.001-04:002015-04-19T13:43:58.905-04:003/16/15Well, over the weekend, my Spring Fever got the best of me and I ended up hurting my lower back by overdoing it. Consequently I missed work today and I've been sitting on an ice pack off and on and taking meds. <div>So, I decided to write a post about some of the basic meal prep tips that I use to make it easier for a busy week when I work late, as well as helping preserve the foods that I buy so they don't spoil before I have a chance to fix them in a recipe. Most of it is pretty common sense. For some recipes, I will cook up the meat say like ground turkey with all the herbs and spices and onion for, say, my Stuffed Shells. Then, when I prepare it, I've only to add egg, marinara sauce and cottage cheese, cook my jumbo pasta shells, fill them with the meat mixture, top with shredded Parmesan and bake. I'll do that with ground beef as well, for stroganoff and sloppy joes, adding all veggies that can be precious and frozen, then I freeze them in freezer containers and label them, of course, so that I have home-cooked meals ready with very minimal cooking or prep throughout the week. I try to decide on what recipes I'm going to fix and buy my groceries for the week accordingly. I also try to buy meat in bulk, as it's cheaper per pound. Same thing with vegetables, like Vidalia onions, celery, and peppers, if they're on special. </div><div>I will divide up the meat in portion sizes for my husband and I and wrap ithe portions well,<span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);"> then label them</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> and freeze them in freezer safe bags. </span></div><div>For example the recipes that I've decided six for the week for the menu that I've chosen him I will buy enough of chicken or pork or beef or whatever or whatever part of me or type of mean it is that I'm going to give use and I will depending on the recipe either pick it up or portion it into serving sizes for my husband and I and freeze it that way and I will write the name of the recipe on the bag of the individual cuts of meat. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuDnJNqfYEg1D9QsKSjEriTXe4hiFQaPB7Lg4qyRuqsXhYhS1MZSqkWxPAh7W4a6hgMpc8tL3SZ58UdfCzyAo5AZ7gkqazBiMWD83cIb_Rg4319Da__vC28uO26yl7wxYLc_G5kFMlRE/s640/blogger-image-1230979014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjuDnJNqfYEg1D9QsKSjEriTXe4hiFQaPB7Lg4qyRuqsXhYhS1MZSqkWxPAh7W4a6hgMpc8tL3SZ58UdfCzyAo5AZ7gkqazBiMWD83cIb_Rg4319Da__vC28uO26yl7wxYLc_G5kFMlRE/s640/blogger-image-1230979014.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">The list goes on the fridge and with the recipe name and what page in what book it's in what recipe book and <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOrdGtJjcBZShLT0_qOeHQj39px8qwa-BW_O44ClZEBnI70-l6kdk4O-G49NLBTMD3qKk0JAqJJVfjZ2rlWWfVT-rW3asN90PBJ2_Yd4wgV4DxXG0MbZfxVZPjWElFVrmEgN9jRkQQDA/s640/blogger-image--359527184.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKOrdGtJjcBZShLT0_qOeHQj39px8qwa-BW_O44ClZEBnI70-l6kdk4O-G49NLBTMD3qKk0JAqJJVfjZ2rlWWfVT-rW3asN90PBJ2_Yd4wgV4DxXG0MbZfxVZPjWElFVrmEgN9jRkQQDA/s640/blogger-image--359527184.jpg"></a></div>and is checked off as the meat is frozen for it and then you get a quick reference and you know what's what and what's going on. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Then I put all them in a larger Ziploc freezer bag marked with what kind of meat it is. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolRgmAiT-cQ4qfYZoTHtybE1r09bkARnF63JtgQ_18cXusH4aeoQzCPJRzLj5WNlrpkG3q4xAMiN_7fS6DylepFSC2z7CJNNUk9KCqr0KjZPhmdbB9vH4RipmnhDLVPAkB5Ufv5HuBec/s640/blogger-image--1298964552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjolRgmAiT-cQ4qfYZoTHtybE1r09bkARnF63JtgQ_18cXusH4aeoQzCPJRzLj5WNlrpkG3q4xAMiN_7fS6DylepFSC2z7CJNNUk9KCqr0KjZPhmdbB9vH4RipmnhDLVPAkB5Ufv5HuBec/s640/blogger-image--1298964552.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">It's a super quick way to preserve your food save money and make it easier to prepare good nutritious home cooked meals throughout a busy work week</div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-36578183751723962622015-02-21T20:16:00.001-05:002015-02-23T11:28:21.914-05:00Cooking in Quantity/prepSo lately, since I've been working overtime, I've been cooking up meals and freezing them, with some only being prepped to a point before freezing for minimal assembly/cooking after a long day. <div>Right now I'm sautéing 1large finely chopped Vidalia onion, a 10 oz jar of sliced mushrooms and pressed garlic in about 1/2 C water, adding more water as needed till onions are tender and translucent. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6f3CZMJvLE7CJhNAGZzDwenX7afpfpElV2LcG1KsT74jgfEkm0USgY_8NEYG2Q1OykYWnvnqubnW4wXapOv573O5POdzY1rU5dYj6Ms76cjUjxidWdW4RBcU91z1_zkXL68HmjyIAHc/s640/blogger-image-124550954.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhO6f3CZMJvLE7CJhNAGZzDwenX7afpfpElV2LcG1KsT74jgfEkm0USgY_8NEYG2Q1OykYWnvnqubnW4wXapOv573O5POdzY1rU5dYj6Ms76cjUjxidWdW4RBcU91z1_zkXL68HmjyIAHc/s640/blogger-image-124550954.jpg"></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Half of this will be added to the lean ground turkey I'm browning, heavy on the basil, oregano, Tuscan seasoning, pink Himalayan salt and pepper and crushed fennel seed. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc00Z18jdz-JnCJn6c7rO8HOVNn8_lBHDFVobheW-WZk5ASY7CvjSJyhzLX5n9xyL3ybfHzxClT74Lod0HoXQZIdWBCoajVhoWK0U7MxZOK-RP3jC6_-qNkxJrr_ICEk-8goDn48YowRM/s640/blogger-image--483326688.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc00Z18jdz-JnCJn6c7rO8HOVNn8_lBHDFVobheW-WZk5ASY7CvjSJyhzLX5n9xyL3ybfHzxClT74Lod0HoXQZIdWBCoajVhoWK0U7MxZOK-RP3jC6_-qNkxJrr_ICEk-8goDn48YowRM/s640/blogger-image--483326688.jpg"></a></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">At this point, I'll store in a freezer safe till cool, then freeze for use in stuffed shells or stuffed manicotti, with the addition of a few more ingredients, then assembled and baked. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTorNQeUz5b70P8Dof5MDOr_mSPoGAJKhigGVafADR3NvPqZ6ffmvEdJe0b_s4ElLb9BTC62OaBeiB0DQhqPPs7XWmkKwd4L5k_zu-H3L16E1mlUkVsboY7EoT5FD_ZMa5x-iTbS9o9Ck/s640/blogger-image--1920963625.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTorNQeUz5b70P8Dof5MDOr_mSPoGAJKhigGVafADR3NvPqZ6ffmvEdJe0b_s4ElLb9BTC62OaBeiB0DQhqPPs7XWmkKwd4L5k_zu-H3L16E1mlUkVsboY7EoT5FD_ZMa5x-iTbS9o9Ck/s640/blogger-image--1920963625.jpg"></a>A package of ground sirloin mixed with the remaining onion, mushroom, garlic mixture, ready to be cooled and frozen. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFi-FrKLvEXEnLywgp2-FKNcoaDA0P1Ctyu9YMxW67TnHCxBB7zGEl8aDxoukUYJUvWsi_alzet6yui1CHClX58zLfEbPEuExOO6saHFejMMi1kxwNDbwQMlsk9b9AsF7KD0B2pxdA9wE/s640/blogger-image-720616488.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFi-FrKLvEXEnLywgp2-FKNcoaDA0P1Ctyu9YMxW67TnHCxBB7zGEl8aDxoukUYJUvWsi_alzet6yui1CHClX58zLfEbPEuExOO6saHFejMMi1kxwNDbwQMlsk9b9AsF7KD0B2pxdA9wE/s640/blogger-image-720616488.jpg"></a>The second package of ground sirloin and a roll of Po Folks Italian sausage browned together. This will be divided into two separate containers and frozen, for use in spaghetti sauce and or soups. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17s3fDT8_nlvBvUH1EDRxwbJJgndzatTIzuuAvi3DF3T9vREw_MdsvCs6cFNY5jkHxP2ludizVRfeYW7YbKIPdS1qVw1mdWYV4oSSkMFnIY5GqN9sBONXd0XRrkcaFtOJzbd5-loarOU/s640/blogger-image-592893032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh17s3fDT8_nlvBvUH1EDRxwbJJgndzatTIzuuAvi3DF3T9vREw_MdsvCs6cFNY5jkHxP2ludizVRfeYW7YbKIPdS1qVw1mdWYV4oSSkMFnIY5GqN9sBONXd0XRrkcaFtOJzbd5-loarOU/s640/blogger-image-592893032.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">So, that's part of my prep cooking for the week. It really is nice to have a home cooked meal in a very short amount of time after a long day. You'll eat better, have better control over your food/calorie intake, and you won't have to rely on prepackaged, over processed junk. </div></div></div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-20339599115365080572015-02-19T08:05:00.001-05:002015-02-22T21:17:45.827-05:00The Unexpected VacationI didn't work at all so far this week. Today is Thursday. I stayed home from work Monday because of snow and slick roads, Tuesday because I felt unable to deal with leaving the house, Wednesday because of more snow and luck roads, and today, well, today, I actually could not leave the house. I've already scheduled tomorrow off, because I'm pretty damn sure I'm not gonna feel capable of it tomorrow, either. I<span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> feel perfectly calm right now, but I still don't want to leave the house. </span><div>Earlier, I had my truck warming up, lunch, audiobooks, water and coffee packed and ready to go. I just could not move to put on my coat, pick up my stuff and head out the door. My head felt fuzzy, I started crying, my legs felt shaky, my heart was racing, and my stomach hurt bad. Just, blam! </div><div>This has been an ongoing issue since my husband experienced a horrible wreck in August of 2000. When he was finally able to return to work was when I had my first panic attack. I had been holding down a full time job, racing home to pick him up to go back to town to his physical therapy appointments three and four times a week. This went on for about four or five months, with me becoming more and more tired, more and more stressed. It was like flipping a switch, or stepping into a new life overnight whilst asleep. I went from having the normal, (if there is such a thing), amount of worry, you know, the every day kind of worry, nothing overwhelming, to worrying about minute things with the intensity that one would feel over a payment due that really put you short for the month. It's hard and it sucks and anyone who hasn't experienced it doesn't understand the often crippling power of it. </div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><br></span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">So today, in order to hopefully exorcise the anxiety from myself, I'm cleaning out the two spare rooms. Rearranging furniture, clearing all of the crap out. Maybe clear my head at the same time. </span></div><div>Have the Aura music channel on the Dish, (hubby's been cool about that!),and I'm just finishing up a bite of lunch and planning the next angle of de-cluttering. </div><div><br></div><div>So now it's Saturday. Haven't finished the de-clutter, ran out of steam. Gonna work on it today. Yesterday, we accomplished, thanks to our tax refund, the purchase of a new gas stove and matching refrigerator! Both in black, both Whirlpools. Had to special order, they'll be here in a couple of weeks. Other than the Frigidaire dishwasher we put in about twelve or so years ago, these are the first brand new kitchen appliances I've ever had. Hard work pays off!!!</div><div>After that, we bought groceries, making it home just before it started sleeting. We woke up to about two or three inches of fresh snow and sleet. </div><div>It's 10:36 a.m., we've been up for about an hour I'd say, seeing as how I'm on my third cup of coffee. I love our mornings at the kitchen table, talking over things, discussing plans, enjoying coffee and watching the birds at the feeders. This morning, it started sleeting again, turned to a light snow, then it snowed heavy for a bit. Fine flurries right now. </div><div>At some point today, I need to lie down, put some earbuds in and meditate. The first thought in my head this morning when I woke up was, "I have to go back to work day after tomorrow ". I don't know why this makes me anxious, but it does. I think a lot of it is because I feel so alone. I mean, I'm not shunned or anything, and I have work friends, it's not that at all. It's just that my beliefs and opinions aren't that of the group/herd on many points. While we have much in common, there is just as much we disagree on. And, knowing their views on certain topics, I sometimes catch myself wondering, as I see them talking to others who ARE one of those "certain topics", how friendly and genuine they are towards them, are they just being that way towards me? For, I have made the "grand mistake" of espousing my view on "certain topics", and have done so in my typical, headstrong and passionate way. Oh yes, quite the faux pas!!! </div><div>Many of my tastes and interests are different. I don't like the murder mystery audiobooks, nor the romance and, oh hell no, never 50 Shades of Grey. I prefer reading (listening) to historical fiction, history, bios and auto bios, politics, Hitchens and Dawkins, and if it's fiction, it'd better be damn good fiction. I listen to Folk, Indie, Singer-Songwriter, some new bands, Classical, <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Opera,</span><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"> World Music, especially traditional Nordic and Celtic Music. Most listen to country, which I consider to be utter horse💩. Or nothing but classic rock. 😴</span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">And I don't play the little social games. You know, the ones where you pretend to be interested in something that "just came into your head", and ask twenty questions, partly out of concern, partly out of nosiness for something to gossip about. Or someone stabs you in the back and expects you to be over it in a few days and that everything's cool. Or someone makes fun of you in a hushed but just loud enough for you to hear, then shriek with laughter when you get upset Everyone knows it's going on, but few to none say anything to them. If you say nothing, you're complicit in the bullying too. And, of course, you're supposed to get over it in a few days or so. I. Don't. Play. Those. Stupid. Games. I will cut you out. You'll barely exist to me. You will not take up rent in my head. Anything work related, I will be "work polite", other than that, I don't want one damn thing to do with you. You've proven yourself to be someone untrustworthy and rude, so why would you think I want to be "friends" again? Seriously! Funny thing is, most of my life people told me I needed to stand up for myself and what I care about and believe. Now that I do, they often wish I'd just shut up. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">For years, because this has been a fixture in my life for as long as I can remember, I've been picked on, bullied, ignored, mocked, and a couple times, hit by people around me. I've never quite fit in, and kids can sense differences and collectively shut out anyone who doesn't conform to group standards. My few friends growing up were either "good", (as in conforming) kids, who, in my typical headstrong independent fashion, got in trouble by encouraging and including them in my misadventures, (such as walking two blocks down and across the street to climb in a neighbors apple trees at about 5 years of age), resulting in them not being allowed to play with me anymore, or I was the one being kept away from other little girls who were more rebellious and independent than I was. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">We moved from the city to a 75+ acre farm a month before I turned seven. Being naturally shy, and unafraid to roam on my own, by the time I was eight, I was regularly sneaking out at night to wander the fields and forests in moonlight, rain or snow. I haunted the woods, immersed myself in learning animals signs, how to sit perfectly still and observe wild foxes playing at the entrance to their den that sat on a steep hillside overlooking a small waterfall in the creek that meandered through our land. How to imitate quail and whippoorwills, catch the biggest bass, find mushrooms and berries, tend cattle, horses, chickens, ducks, geese and pigeons. How to cut and stack wood, prepare for winters, garden... Being an only child, having so much freedom as long as my work was done, really brought out my independent, go it alone side. It also made me rather socially awkward, as I never learned how to play the silly social games people play. What you see is pretty much what you get. </span></div><div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">In other words, I'm too "everything", and I'm too independent, a "think-for-myselfer", and that's going against the grain. And its something I've been and done, All. My. Life. </span></div><div>The way I feel about it, how can one just hide themselves and conform to the herd? And why would anyone want to or feel compelled to? Why deny who you really are? Why play a part in the "show"? Wouldn't it be better to be yourself, be open and honest and fair in dealings with others? Wouldn't that go a long way towards making a better world? </div><div><br></div><div>Sunday, last day before heading back to work. I feel better, still don't want to go. </div><div>First ever Dutch Baby (look it up) in the oven and a couple sausage patties on the stove. Trying to just relax and keep busy at the same time. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-43629848676171199022014-07-29T18:08:00.001-04:002014-07-29T18:09:50.635-04:00Man's Inhumanity<div>Unless you are under a rock, you have to be aware of the situation in Gaza. It is deplorable, cruel, inhumane. I am saddened and disappointed in people who say "let them kill each other" or "we should just bomb them off the map". Do you not hear how insane and inhuman and hypocritical you sound when you say such things? How can you hold such a belief yet be angered by 9/11 or Oklahoma City? Yes, what Hamas is doing us wrong. Does that make it acceptable then, for Israel to deliberately target children on a beach, on a playground? To blow CHILDREN into pieces? To target hospitals, even those that are for invalids? Two wrongs DO NOT make a right. </div><div>Could you look into the eyes of grieving parents who have lost all of their children and still say such things? Could you say them to the couple who begged to be let out of Palestine for an emergency surgery to separate newborn conjoined twins in a desperate effort to save at least one child, only to be refused exit by the Israelis, only the have both babies die? </div><div>Could you say them to cancer sufferers who cannot get chemo because of the blockade? Could you look in the mirror and watch yourself say those hate filled words? Because if you can, there is something fundamentally wrong with your humanity. </div><div>Hate is at the root of all conflicts. It doesn't matter whether you are American, Palestinian, Israeli, Christian, Jewish or Muslim or of any other nationality or faith. Hate divides, hate destroys, and it most certainly diminishes your humanity. </div><div>It is just as callous to turn a blind eye to it, ignoring it. To say nothing, to do nothing, that makes you in complicit agreement with it. As Desmond Tutu said, "If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor." </div><div>As a parent, if you do not teach your children about them and do not stand up against the injustices if the world, you are teaching your children not to care. You are doing them a great disservice, because how can you say you are trying to make the world a better place for them when your actions speak louder? If we raise our children with these divisive and negative beliefs, theirs won't be a better world, and in all likelihood, it will be worse. The cycle will just keep repeating. </div><div>I'm sick to death of hearing people whine about how hard they have it, or how no one likes them, or they don't have this or that latest and greatest thing. When innocent men, women and children are dying, not just in Gaza, but around the globe , to whine about your tiny little First World problems is, at best, selfish and immature. Life is about more, much more, than just you. </div><div>Those being killed....they're someone's mother or father or sister or brother...someone's daughter or son, someone's wife, husband, lover, grandparents, FAMILY. <span style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0);">Look at your family and ask yourself, could I stand seeing them go through that? Or is it easier, somehow, just to not see the Palestinians' humanity because they aren't white Americans? Ask yourself that, too. </span></div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-12152613020258181832014-04-14T00:01:00.001-04:002014-05-12T21:34:13.094-04:00SleeplessAnother Sunday night spent tossing and turning. Wide awake. Anxious. Listening to snoring/mumbling. Or the hot water heater. Or the air compressor with the slow leak in the garage kick on. Or the car(s) turning around in the driveway. Or any number of things. <div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div></div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-20353674372648881222014-03-30T19:27:00.000-04:002014-03-30T19:28:46.217-04:00Sisters Can Think For Themselves<div style="font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wonder why men often feel intimidated/frightened by/uncomfortable around/threatened by women of strong opinions and convictions, the very qualities you admire in a man. Would you prefer she be wishy-washy and gullible? Step away from the cave, knuckle-dragging cave dwellers, a woman is not your property. She is not there to be controlled by you, nor are her thoughts to be as yours, she can think quite well for herself. She is an individual in her own right, not an extension of you. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If you have a woman who is strong-minded, yes, she may be difficult to live with at times, but you should thank your lucky stars. Would you really prefer someone who had no opinions, who couldn't think for themselves, form their own opinions, have convictions and the strength and courage to stand by them? No, you would not. You would most likely consider her to be a stupid female and treat her as such. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">t's time to let go of biblical fairytale notions that women are subjugate to men. For hundreds of years, women have been treated as property, commodities to be used and then disposed of, blamed for our own rape, and beaten or stoned to death because of it. This still goes on in parts of the world. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This is not to say that all women have meekly accepted being "less than", simply by virtue of their gender. Oh no, not at all. Consider Queen Zenobia, Queen Cleopatra,and Queen Elizabeth I. Strong, capable women, who defied the odds, and became powerful leaders in times when a woman could be killed for daring to be different, vocal and powerful. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Zenobia became Queen of Palmyra in 267 upon the death of her husband, Odaenathus. Within two years, she expanded the Palmyrene empire when she conquered Egypt and dispelled the Roman prefect there, who subsequently tried to retake Egypt, only to be beheaded. She was a descendant of Cleopatra VII through her mother. She was often called The Warrior Queen. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Cleopatra VII was a very powerful and intelligent woman. She was 18 when her father, Ptolemy VII, died in March of 51 BC, and she was made co-regent with her 10 year old brother, Ptolemy XIII. She quickly let it be known she would not share power with him, and by August of that same year, dropped him from official documents and coinage. This went against Ptolemaic tradition of women rulers being subordinate to their male co-regent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Queen Elizabeth I was the daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn. She was two and a half when her father declared Anne to be a witch, annulled the marriage, and had Anne beheaded. Elizabeth was declared illegitimate, and no longer in line for the throne. Her brother ruled until his death in 1553, and he bequeathed the throne to his cousin, Lady Jane Grey. Nine days later, his will was set aside and she was beheaded. Mary, Henry's daughter from his first marriage to Catherine of Aragon. Elizabeth was imprisoned in the Tower of London during Mary's reign. When Mary died, she proclaimed Elizabeth her heir, and she ascended the throne of England. She never married, and is considered to be one of the greatest European monarchs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">These are strong, independent women. Smart and capable in a time when women were pawns in the games of power. I admire them greatly. No small wonder then, that I see nothing wrong in a woman having strong opinions and convictions. If that offends or intimidates a man, or causes him to feel insecure in his manhood, then he probably isn't as secure in it to begin with. Put on your big boy Fruit of the Looms and get over yourselves.</span> </span></div>
lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-67311885084374951222014-03-24T05:33:00.001-04:002014-03-24T15:50:43.849-04:00Anxiety AgainAnother Sunday night spent desperately trying to go to sleep and, once there, stay asleep. This is followed by an anxious and shaky Monday morning, in which I manage to get my eyeliner on after twenty minutes, while feeling panicky. Once the decision to stay home is made, I begin to feel the panic drain away, and by the time I call in PTO hours, I feel nearly 100% better. There's still some residual anxiety, mainly in the form of upper back muscle spasms that wrap around my chest as well, but at least I'm no longer in tears and near to an anxiety attack. <div>By 5:30 a.m., my back goes into sharp spasms. I hastily eat a few saltines and take a muscle relaxer. I sleep till about 10:00 a.m. By noon, I'm hurting again, another pill, and rest on the couch. In between, I've managed to get some laundry washed and folded and, when resting, some crochet. </div><div>By this time, I feel foolish for my anxiety, but at the time, I was feeling sick and panicky. Mondays are hard for me, some worse than others. Sometimes, it's difficult for me to even leave to go to a friends house, or the grocery store. </div><div>I don't want to takes meds. Been there, hated it. I cared about NOTHING. they made me feel dead inside, spacey, disconnected. </div><div>Nothing for it but to soldier on. </div><div>Apparently, this hermit-like behavior runs in the family. I'll be like my mother and her twin, refusing to leave my house when I'm older. Sigh. </div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-89660023411020775152014-03-01T07:06:00.001-05:002014-03-24T15:46:56.185-04:00What The World Needs Is A Little More Kindness<p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">I really wish people would treat each other with kindness, consideration and respect. Life should have lots of fun in it, but not at someone else's expense. Honesty is key, equally so communication. You don't realize how your words, ( or lack of them), can affect others. Failure to communicate honestly is the main cause of problems for us stupid humans. Why is that? Why are we so afraid to talk and be honest with one another? What holds us back?</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">I've seen the consequences of thoughtless, careless remarks as well as deliberate remarks that are meant to hurt, humiliate and bully. How can we hope for a better Life, a better community, a better world when we are either careless or cruel with our words?</p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">We don't need god or the bible to be good humans. We need empathy, because when you can feel another's pain, and identify with that pain, you begin to become aware of how you have been causing pain to others, even when you thought you weren't. </p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;"><br></p><p style="margin: 0px; font-size: 12px; font-family: Helvetica;">When you have empathy for others, you begin to have empathy for community, and the world. Imagine how wonderful if everyone, everywhere, all around the world, were to suddenly be overwhelmed with the realization that all these wars and feuds and hatreds and contempts and anger is just foolishly wasted time. Instead of saying, "I'm only one person, I can't do anything", say, "I want to live my Life causing as little pain to others as I can." Be mindful of your words and actions, encourage others to do so, and be an example of how it brings peace and contentment to your soul and how it lights a fire in your belly to be a good human being. </p>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-49741980202006659152014-02-16T19:49:00.001-05:002014-02-16T19:49:22.217-05:00Sunday, February 16, 2014<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><u>On THIS Particular Sunday...(A Brief Synopsis)</u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It's about 9:30 a.m</span>. <span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The house is quiet, and my husband and I are enjoying coffee and watching the birds that come to our backyard feeder. The coffee is nothing fancy, no flavors, froths, whips or caramel drizzle, just reliable old Eight o'clock brand whole bean Dark Italian Roast and Great Value non-dairy creamer. Coffee snobs, we are not.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The feeder, like the coffee, is nothing fancy either. Rickety, weathered grey, with suet holders on each end of it, this cedar feeder was old and decrepit when I acquired it, and I've had it about 11 years. The birds don't care. As long as it has food, they really don't give a shit about what it looks like.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Over the last two days, we have been graced with our normal visitors that we see nearly year round. Cute Tufted Titmice, (what a name!), vibrant Cardinals, Blue Jays, with their striking blue, white and black feathers, Slate-colored Junco, Black Capped Chickadees, Nuthatches, Mourning Doves, a sparrow of some sort, as well as Downy and Red-bellied Woodpeckers.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were excited yesterday when a huge Piliated Woodpecker landed in some Shumate (?) trees in our back yard. These trees have some sort of seed cluster into winter, and judging by the ones already stripped bare, I'm guessing that they are a source for this bird. I got a few somewhat fuzzy shots with my iPhone, but they were clear enough to see that it was a female, Hopefully, this Spring, she'll nest. We saw her twice, so it's a pretty good indication that she stays in this area.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Piliated's are shy birds, about crow-sized, maybe 17 inches tall. They have a wide range, most of the Continental U.S., actually, but are seldom seen as they prefer deep woods.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The sun keeps making brief appearances, ducking back behind clouds like a shy child. I'm trying to enjoy the view from my little office, but it's hard when it's overcast and the ground is snow covered. Sigh. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Finally got around to fixing some breakfast, while he tinkered around on the guitar. Sausage patties, eggs, toast, milk for him, coffee for me. More bird watching. Cleaned up the kitchen, loaded the dishwasher and started it. Load of whites in the wash. Cut up for stir fry, a big sirloin steak. It's currently marinating in Teriyaki sauce in the fridge. I have some Asian veggies to mix with it and then serve it over fragrant Jasmine rice. Be good in my lunch tomorrow, too.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">He's snoring to NASCAR on the TV. I'm pensively, sporadically, trying to write, just feeling distracted. I know there's a big package of loin chops that needs divied up and frozen, as well as a small pork loin roast. There's more laundry to be done. There's books to gather up to take back to the library tomorrow, things to get ready to take to work in the morning. Again, SIGH...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><u>4:23 p.m.</u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Didn't divvy up the chops and roast. Half the laundry is done, but did get books bagged up. Have to start dinner soon...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><u>5:18 p.m.</u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Adding music to a USB drive for my truck. Seriously have to start dinner as soon as I'm done with this. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><b><u>7:43 p.m.</u></b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Dinner was delicious. Will definitely have to fix again. Laundry is just about done. My goal of doing only basic chores today, not getting dressed, and fixing a good dinner were accomplished. Life is good, is sweet, right here in this moment. And this moment. And this....you get the picture.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">All that's left is to get a shower in and relax for a few before heading to bed. </span><br />
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lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-35335007150850219732014-01-13T08:16:00.001-05:002014-03-24T15:47:26.125-04:00Anxiety AboundsReally not having a good day today. Anxiety abounds. I've been off work for 10 days, if you count the weekends. I slept poorly last night, waking roughly every hour. lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-21490657407270015392014-01-08T11:40:00.001-05:002014-01-08T12:43:39.054-05:00Thoughts on Motherhood<div style="font-family: Helvetica; margin: 0px;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A very lovely friend of mine recently posted an article about motherhood. ("Why Being a Mother is Enough', found on finding joy.net). I have to say, this article made me feel claustrophobic, restricted, trapped. I get that the little things are great, and yes, I really enjoyed doing things with my kids, (like my poor husband, who came home one day to all three of us covered in mud from having a mud fight in the yard after a heavy rain), but overall, the whole concept, I just don't understand how motherhood is the be-all and end-all of everything. I'm not knocking it, by no means, and my hats are off to women who feel motherhood is their calling, but personally, for me I just don't get it. I couldn't wait till I could get them both in school and be able to breathe, to have some freedom, to go to work and have a least some semblance of independence. I was very much a fish out of water.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm too much of a free spirit I guess. Motherhood to me was rewarding but also something to be endured. I suppose it's also due to the fact that I was an only child, and that I grew up a tomboy on a farm, spending my time out of school doing farm chores, riding or roaming the woods. Of course, I didn't just stay on our 76 acres. I roamed about 200 (it was a very rural area in the 70's). My dad was an O-T-R trucker, my mom took care of the house, I did what I felt like doing after chores. Fish, hike, wander the creeks catching minnows and finding cool rocks and fossils, ride my horse, pick berries, hunt mushrooms, or just lay in a pasture and watch the clouds by day or the moon and stars by night...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was very, very hard for me to lose that freedom and become a stuck in the house, tied down mother. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn't have to work back then, so I had the time to take them to museums and parks and such. Nothing even remotely close to the same freedom I had, but better than being cooped up in a house all the time, like a bird in a cage, yearning to be free and fly, which is what I felt like most of the time. I'm still the same way. I hate being responsible for anyone but myself, and I've never had a problem being alone, solitude is a wonderful thing, a creative Muse, my inner twin, my dark moon side. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Looking at old family papers and photos, I see that I come from a long line of strong minded, independent, forward thinking women on my mother's side of the family. (I know nothing of my bio-dad's family and history). My great-great-great-great grandparents immigrated to Nova Scotia in Canada and then in Maine, Massachusetts and Rhode Island in America throughout the 1700's and 1800's, They all lived in rugged places, grew their own food, sewed their own clothes. And they passed down that independence and love of Nature.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And yes, they raised children, too. Back in the 1800's and early 1900's, what else could a woman do but marry and have children? But still, you can see and feel that rebel soul shine through society's shackles. I have a picture of my grandmother in pants, airman's bomber jacket, jack boots, and a wool cap, posing for a pic with students from the college before a hike. Most pics are of her in very proper dresses, low heels, gloves, typical 1930's women's clothes, so to see her real soul makes this one of my favorite pics of her. So, I come by my rebellious free spirit honestly, and I love that. I wouldn't change that for anything. How could you change your soul, anyway?</span></div>
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<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">My grandmother, front row on the right.</span></em><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">As the only child, I didn't have time for girlie things. I had chores. There were cattle, horses, chickens, ducks, pigeons, geese, dogs and cats to be fed. Eggs to be gathered, fence lines to be checked. I raised and broke to ride my own horse. I helped put up cross fencing, helped my dad cut, split and stack wood, helped in the garden and the orchard. I learned and did things that made me strong, physically and mentally, and I learned to value those things. Mom did the housework, I took care of the farm chores when dad was on the road, which was most of the time, from the time I was about 8 until they divorced when I was 16. It's no wonder then, that I simply cannot understand how being a mom is somehow "enough". Why I don't get how wonderful and fulfilling it is. It just feels so damn restrictive and unsatisfying to me, who had absolute freedom growing up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I don't think I'm abnormal, or selfish. It's who I am. Something that cannot be changed. I'm not saying I don't like kids. Babies are OK in my book, I just don't get all mushy and goofy over them. (Puppies? That'll get me every time, especially puppy breath. Babies? I don't smell what everyone else does. Again, just don't get it). Older toddlers are fun to be around, especially outdoors, because they really start to have an imagination and a desire to learn about the world around them. I like to show kids how things work and to point out things they don't notice and tell them about them. Like ants working together to carry something. Or a hawk swooping down to catch dinner. Or how fish will hide up under tree roots along the bank. Or animal tracks. Outdoor stuff. Seeing them look at something in a new and interested way, get excited about a fossil or awesome rock gives me hope that perhaps they will see how interconnected all creatures are, and maybe, just maybe, carry that with them and pass that on to the next generation. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: small;">These fields, these forests, these oceans and mountains and rivers and quiet woodland streams, the hawk on the wing, the deer silently, gracefully, slipping back into the shadows of the trees...all this and more is Beauty and Love and Truth to me. It is more than enough.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Yg5B6uZRjGKEmVNs8NPetDpgSE_9EZOlwbzbMH_bES_VwZpR2z0_8Hh1lAYW6ySlgcH95uJh269otjoqpr7tr9wGux5rUTu8yYICiIbaGH5X-Cd3OBNE7tVN-BAj1qkBWLOwRrk5FTQ/s1600/IMG_0593.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5Yg5B6uZRjGKEmVNs8NPetDpgSE_9EZOlwbzbMH_bES_VwZpR2z0_8Hh1lAYW6ySlgcH95uJh269otjoqpr7tr9wGux5rUTu8yYICiIbaGH5X-Cd3OBNE7tVN-BAj1qkBWLOwRrk5FTQ/s1600/IMG_0593.JPG" height="192" width="320" /></a><em><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: x-small;">Summer Fields for roaming.</span></em></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><em>And I still see shapes in the clouds, like this Phoenix Rising.</em></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Some women look at babies and feel such love, see such beauty. For me, seeing the sweep of a sun drenched green field towards the impossible blue of and uncluttered sky is Beauty and Love. Green corn fields, golden hay fields, fog-shrouded fields and forests, sun dappled wooded hillsides, the songs of birds, a music of the wind in pine trees or it's roar on stormy days, the gentle whisper of midnight snow...these things move me to awe, to see Beauty beyond words, and to feel such a swell of love and oneness with all. I can't explain it, won't ever apologize for it. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is simply who I am, and that is how I am supposed to be.</span><br />
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lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-27283355342767773472013-09-22T18:51:00.001-04:002014-03-24T15:52:45.673-04:00Come The HarvestAs of 4:44 p.m., it is now "officially" Autumn. The time of Harvest, of gathering in the grains, the fruits that <div>have been growing and ripening all Summer. Time to receive the bounty of the Harvest in return for our good stewardship and hard work throughout the year. Butcher the the fatted calf, the hog, lay in the meat for the hard Winter season ahead, lay in the preserves of the garden, of the vine. Winnow and store up grains, some to grind, some to cook. Put the garden to bed, covering her with a nice over winter cover crop that will return to the soil at first tilling next Spring, enriching the soil for the next year's crops. Once we lived by the rhythms of Nature, the Cycles of her Seasons. We knew when to plow, when and what to plant. </div><div>We're so far from that now as humans. No wonder we're all a little nuts. </div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-2649075412681074452013-09-20T17:43:00.001-04:002014-01-08T13:01:39.982-05:00Straight From SIRI's "mouth"<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Enough said.</span> <br />
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lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-76469254049429937402013-08-26T18:51:00.001-04:002014-01-08T13:02:31.909-05:00Oh Miley, you poor thing!<div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well well well. Poor Miley. The only statement she's making about herself is that she's cheap and trashy, not sexy and edgy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">There's FAR more to being sexy than a stripper routine and molesting a foam finger. Have some class, some elegance. Some élan. Some real pride and self respect. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">She should also have a sense of personal responsibility. Millions of young girls admire her. Want to be like her. Ask yourselves this: "Do I think that's what I want my 10-12 year old daughter copying?" Because in reality, there are young girls who woke up this morning thinking of copying. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I get individuality and personal freedom, really, I do. I grew up in the era of increasing sexual freedom for women and the equal rights movement. Bra burning and the March on Washington, and the Vietnam War. Turbulent times for the entire country. But not too far removed from the little woman being nothing but a home and babymaker and a "servant". </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Our Sisters have fought since 1848 for our rights to be more than just chattel to a man, to vote, to have a say, to be an individual. The current women's rights movement has devolved into backbiting, callousness, and cheapness of character. It pits us against one another. Fake friends and fake lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We're still fighting to be seen as something other than an object, a vessel, a commodity to be used and discarded. Yet we let the media tell us what to do, think, eat, wear, what to look like, and how to be. And if we don't fit "their" standards, (who is this mythical "their"?), then we are somehow "less", our value is lower. I call BULLSHIT!!!!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Miley might think she's expressing herself as a woman, but that was downright nasty... Stunts like that hold us back, not empower us. We want to be more than objects or possessions, yet we portray ourselves as objects and allow ourselves to become "owned" by abusive relationships. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are our own worst enemy. </span></div>
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lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-73924460499886239262013-01-27T14:01:00.000-05:002013-01-27T14:01:11.681-05:00Life and Other Stuff...<div>Funny how life gets away from you, much like time. We spend our days wishing them away.."I wish it were Friday" or I wish it was Spring". We have trouble remembering that each day is a gift, precious and fragile. We neglect the simple things in pursuit of some seemingly unattainable goal, and if, by some chance, or miracle, or 'divine' intervention, we reach that goal, we find it to be hollow, and unsatisfying. It truly is the simple things in life. </div>lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-74267956552085924122013-01-27T14:00:00.001-05:002013-01-27T14:00:54.193-05:00Fall DazeToday, the weather is rainy, chilly, overcast. I am tired, so tired, from rising early everyday, working overtime, and from staying up too late every night. Averaging 4-5 hours of sleep a night wears you out, especially as we age. <br />
Being overly tired, besides being draining on a body, makes a soul, at least this one, more vulnerable to feeling down, blue, depressed. The rain is doing little more that contributing to that, as I would much prefer to be somewhere quiet, alone, where I can withdraw into myself, pull up the drawbridge and contemplate Life. However, the everyday world requires a paycheck, so, I am dutifully at work, building catheters, listening to an audiobook, and being a responsible adult and productive member of society. <br />
When I was a child, living on a farm and growing up a wilder sort of tomboy, days like this would find me out in the woods and fields, rain/drenched and muddy, insanely happy, enacting out fantasies of being a wild indian, or a pioneer explorer. Of course, that was every day, not just rainy ones. As an only child, I learned early how to entertain myself. Wandering, either afoot or astride my horse, utterly content to be solitary, like some modern day Thoreau, I was in heaven. There were many places to explore, many cow paths to follow, small creeks to wade through and jump over, ponds to fish in, woods to walk, and cornfields to slip through. lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-48830449650727399782013-01-27T14:00:00.000-05:002013-01-27T14:00:27.330-05:00Feeling kinda down today. The weather is crappy, (sleet and freezing rain), which flares up my upper back, shoulder and neck pain, and also causes headaches. I have a shit-ton of laundry to do and ZERO motivation. That is all.lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-42609571651925319202010-01-07T17:12:00.004-05:002010-01-07T20:36:01.783-05:00New Year, New Goals, Toxic People BannedWell, 2009 was a weird year. It was also a good year in many respects for me. I learned much about myself, and learned also to be more open and social. I have a tendency to isolate and be more like a satellite orbiting around people instead of engaging. I still have my days, but they are infrequent. I give credit to many things, among them, The Hell Hole, work, and certainly, determination to change. It's good to feel comfortable in one's own skin. It's good to have self-confidence and a more optimistic view and attitude. And that is what I have wanted for a long time, but lacked the courage to change. Yes, it's been hard, yes, I've been scared, but by all the stars in the sky, it has been worth every painful struggle, every bit of swallowing down the fear, to reach today. And I will continue to work every day, every single damn day at this.<br /><br />For 2010, I've decided that it's time to weed out toxic people. I do not have time nor patience for the silliness and drama in my life. I have enough of my own shit to deal with; I certainly do not need anyone else's!<br />I've already weeded out one person who has been a thorn in my side for the last 5 years. I've known them for about 12 years or so, but over the last 5 years, they have become increasingly rude and insensitive. This week, it escalated to out and out intolerable. All I know is that I'm glad he lives almost 1000 miles away. I have no explanation for why he feels the need to insult and hurt me this way. But, that's over and done with and I'm not losing any sleep over it, for sure!<br /><br /><br />Another goal for this year is to continue the progress I've made over the last two years in overcoming insecurities, self-doubts and that negative voice in my head that tells me that I can't do this or that, why try, you're not good enough, blah, blah, blah. These days, I just tell that voice to shut up and mind it's own business.<br /><br />And I'm writing again, and plan on keeping that going. I didn't write for a long time, not creatively. I felt shut down, uninspired. It's been a joy to have that gift back; I didn't know how much I missed it. It's been fun to dig out some of my old stuff from high school, seeing if any of it was worth salvaging and/or reworking. <br /><br />So, 2010...I look forward to you. <br /><br />Smiles...lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-61283850976853844642009-10-06T19:29:00.005-04:002009-10-06T20:09:52.269-04:00ReconnectionsThere's a lot to be said for <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">reconnections</span>. Friends, lovers, family...self. And that, dear ones, is what happened to me, only recently.<br />I have struggled to write for the last 20+ years. I have made fits and starts, all winding down the same dead-end road more often sooner than later. There has been a definite lack of encouragement and positivity from others and a definite lack of focus from me. Like wandering lost in the dark. Waiting for the light, not knowing I was waiting nor what I was waiting for. Until recently.<br />A death in the family reconnected several members of our family that have been apart for a very long time. After funeral, several of us gathered in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">departed's</span> name to support one another, toast his memory, and to reconnect. There was much laughter, sharing of life stories, catching up, music and singing. At the end of the evening, those who remained were few, but they were the old souls, that being the very reason they were still there. From one old soul to another, sensing something in me, I was questioned and encouraged. He knew the questions to ask, the words to encourage, and conveyed them in a way beyond words with his eyes and his energy and his total sincerity. It was a fire lit inside me, one that had been but weakly glowing embers for years.<br />Over the past few weeks, my soul has spoken louder. Bit by bit, brick by brick, link by link, the dam is crumbling, the chains on my mind are breaking, and the waters of creation come rushing in to fill the void that I hadn't realized was there. My soul whispers a word, a phrase, a sentence--and the words pour forth onto the paper, and I feel light, complex, thoughtful, free.<br />I owe a great debt of gratitude to him. I didn't know how much I have missed nor needed my writing until it came back to me. It is an <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">indescribable</span> feeling, this reborn creativity, something akin to magic. Whenever I feel doubt, or falter, I think of the things he said to me, about my writing again, about myself, and I take heart, I take courage, I take focus and I take up my pen and write, and I walk with the confidence <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">that he</span> saw in me and that I now feel because a very valuable part of me, that was lost has come home to me on the wings of his words.<br />I hear him say "This, this, this" and I am inspired, because it <em>is</em> this, this, this...<br />Write on, Kindred Soul, write on...lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-68685993109293107442009-04-24T20:36:00.003-04:002009-05-01T07:50:15.442-04:00A Glassware Addiction<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb28DgveFKayDSmbEy9DxC_cUKMkSWwh5PRaXhalH6dEFvKJnAfsg4xZAMBpt0z6R2mQAm8JXWlJsKlWHJH7HjVnNecPtW3-x34rgTsz_VIkuH5IpqqysEZCywPrIW534hdxnpinaUKY/s1600-h/HPIM1045.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330591985838721330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb28DgveFKayDSmbEy9DxC_cUKMkSWwh5PRaXhalH6dEFvKJnAfsg4xZAMBpt0z6R2mQAm8JXWlJsKlWHJH7HjVnNecPtW3-x34rgTsz_VIkuH5IpqqysEZCywPrIW534hdxnpinaUKY/s320/HPIM1045.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGb28DgveFKayDSmbEy9DxC_cUKMkSWwh5PRaXhalH6dEFvKJnAfsg4xZAMBpt0z6R2mQAm8JXWlJsKlWHJH7HjVnNecPtW3-x34rgTsz_VIkuH5IpqqysEZCywPrIW534hdxnpinaUKY/s1600-h/HPIM1045.JPG"></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:0;"></span>You've all seen 'em...fantastical shaped, colored and patterned glassware at flea markets, yard sales, thrift shops and antique shows...fun to find, fun to collect, and a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">collectible</span> that increases in value while being perfectly lovely and functional all at the same time. You might even have some pieces yourself, inherited from your mother or grandmother, pretty little bowls, plates, pitchers, vases... What is it? Depression Glass, as it is commonly called, is patterned and/or colored glassware sets that came about during the Great Depression...and trust me, collecting this stuff can easily become addicting!</div><div><br /></div><div>I've been collecting it for a little over a year, and I've learned a lot about it in that time. There are so many different patterns, some still unidentified. The pieces below are from the 60's, for <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0utQy62ynRJgmAz7YpdHWMJ2L1O8QQ6Msul58ypvcg_hHxfGVevdIuHEy2UOApX1sowwFQg-65d3-At5Nq8V_Nlo3Q2Wqcm4meXRIfo7khzurfrjwtK1utIGpKEosZgETxc9-AfOOoY/s1600-h/HPIM0208.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330589574330785842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG0utQy62ynRJgmAz7YpdHWMJ2L1O8QQ6Msul58ypvcg_hHxfGVevdIuHEy2UOApX1sowwFQg-65d3-At5Nq8V_Nlo3Q2Wqcm4meXRIfo7khzurfrjwtK1utIGpKEosZgETxc9-AfOOoY/s320/HPIM0208.JPG" /></a>example, the pattern is Sonora, in avocado and harvest gold. The large salad bowl and smaller green serving bowls belonged to my mother, and they came to me when she passed away about a year ago. The piece at the top of this post is Twisted Optic, in green, a preserve jar, which, if I had the spoon that goes with it, is worth about $50.00. I paid $2.99 at a thrift store for it. It was made by Imperial Glass Company, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bellaire</span>, Ohio, from 1927 to 1930, so it is considerably older than the Sonora set.</div><div><br />All this started when my mother passed away and we began cleaning out her house. Items I had forgotten about along with those I had loved as a child were now in my possession. I had no idea what I had until I started doing a little research, both online an at the library, where they have many wonderful price guides. I started with may 20-30 pieces and now have closer to 120, in various patterns and colors, which prompted me to buy my own latest edition price guide, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Warman's</span> Depression Glass, written by a lady considered to be a leading, if not <em>the </em>leading authority on Depression Glass, Ellen T. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Shroy</span>. While the guide boasts 500 color photos and 170 of the most popular patterns from 1920-1980, there are some pieces that don't have an established price due to being rare or not available in enough quantities to determine prices. There are also misidentified patterns out there as well as patterns not listed in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Warman's</span> guide. Add to the mix reproductions of various pieces and patterns, and it makes it challenging for any collector, novice or knowledgeable, to add to their collections.</div><div><br /></div><div>Growing up, when I was old enough, I was in charge of making dessert, which, most nights, was instant pudding. I'd get out the mixer, milk, bowl and measuring cup and whip up a box. When it was mixed, I would put it in these lovely little footed glass dessert dishes.<br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIbwUFyioPXDSx9_wRwv-KIB6_475BYp1fV0vJ5Ttoa3gXJnC3gfuQdC_aEfpcpVS8sOKz05XHcLAgSZ1A3M8P4GVdE7f7_Q_sPBCE-j21lQw6GwSjfjdkVURQ7MjJaa0zjeEqGana3M/s1600-h/HPIM0215.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330581711510037938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIbwUFyioPXDSx9_wRwv-KIB6_475BYp1fV0vJ5Ttoa3gXJnC3gfuQdC_aEfpcpVS8sOKz05XHcLAgSZ1A3M8P4GVdE7f7_Q_sPBCE-j21lQw6GwSjfjdkVURQ7MjJaa0zjeEqGana3M/s320/HPIM0215.JPG" /></a></div>I now know this is the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wexford</span> Pattern, made by Anchor Hocking. These six cups in this pattern has grown to a collection of nearly 50 pieces, including a gorgeous decanter set that includes six goblets and six wine glasses as well as a beautiful cake stand with glass cover.<br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div>Mom had several other pieces in another pattern that we used occasionally. There were ten pieces in this pattern, Early American <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">Prescut</span>, to which I have added nearly 40 pieces. It was <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEl94dBMhBXwgcUXqCJnqNBxAtglG84RKDLTK33a193yrAe4QlCSMyTxDY1SDMim3PvnGdtcsaa_U-j8u-jdk2Gd_M-nD3EFj9BvjmGbQEXdg0DThfgqYhignrw5uF_0gRQRWeX7dEO8A/s1600-h/HPIM0201.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330584949147385986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEl94dBMhBXwgcUXqCJnqNBxAtglG84RKDLTK33a193yrAe4QlCSMyTxDY1SDMim3PvnGdtcsaa_U-j8u-jdk2Gd_M-nD3EFj9BvjmGbQEXdg0DThfgqYhignrw5uF_0gRQRWeX7dEO8A/s320/HPIM0201.JPG" /></a>interesting to note that there are variations on this pattern. I primarily have what's called <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">EAP</span> (Early American <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">Prescut</span>) 'Star of David', although I have a couple small tumblers in the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">EAP</span> 'Oatmeal' pattern, so called for being a premium in boxes of oatmeal during the Depression. There is also a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">EAP</span> 'Pineapple' pattern, of which I haven't found any yet. But, I continue to look, as some pieces are worth more than others. I have to admit, it's a bit of a thrill to see a piece you know is exceptional in condition and price and to add it to your collection!</div><div><br />One pattern, which I have been unable to find any reference to in any book, is a beautiful little green bowl with a quilted-type pattern and an unusual crimped top. I've found only two more <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPmTLEyzl9TTIhvRc_F1Gr_T3ZksvZ7qOTN_HOlsFyBbCu7Fcc3sDVg0RVkS_N2Fc2QHEkuH_aCEmdYikG7CId91NW7C3voFtEabQLJXPdaGlmSuKA5A0JB5DbhEZgufa_ZvII8kqNFM/s1600-h/HPIM0250.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330587261482645202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTPmTLEyzl9TTIhvRc_F1Gr_T3ZksvZ7qOTN_HOlsFyBbCu7Fcc3sDVg0RVkS_N2Fc2QHEkuH_aCEmdYikG7CId91NW7C3voFtEabQLJXPdaGlmSuKA5A0JB5DbhEZgufa_ZvII8kqNFM/s320/HPIM0250.JPG" /></a>pieces in the green, one, a tall, footed piece and another with a gilt foot on it, as well as a bowl in white 'milk glass'. I bought the two green ones at antique flea markets, and neither person I bought them from knows either the pattern or manufacturer, although the lady I bought the tall piece from said she had two just like in it the white glass. It's a mystery I hope to solve!<br />With yard sale and flea market season coming up, I expect I'll be adding more to my collection. Of course, there's thrift stores to peruse in the meantime. many times, when a parent passes away, the person who disposes of the various household stuff that they or other family members don't want, it gets donated to thrift stores, where it can be picked up for a song. And it's not just glassware you'll find there, either. Vintage Pyrex bowls, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">bake-ware</span> and coffee cups, antique picture frames, kitchen items and other sundries that can be used to decorate. We have two in the city where I work and I try to go at least every couple days or so. There's a third store that I frequent once a week when I grocery-shop. I'm learning to be more discerning when it comes to buying . items should be thoroughly examined for chips and cracks, which lower the value. You also must watch out for reproductions, of which I've bought three. I've studied my guide book and have learned more what to look for that identifies pieces as reproductions, and therefore not worth purchasing, unless it's something real darling and I must have it.</div><div><br /></div><div>Pieces are fanciful, like 'Cube' and 'American'<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFpHLBmCMTN695TXzKCVwvF0hYMTPGSSzD9o1Fjfntiuvjv3jcbgRPoaBCt0ZpLU4Zr7-ohC3JTwwjPlJgWG1Xn1GKpw1nmR-a_1N_rDX_F4OidRIuXrjTKV6smOLS1D-9TWHfLWFkaM/s1600-h/HPIM0226.JPG"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330603341111514530" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNFpHLBmCMTN695TXzKCVwvF0hYMTPGSSzD9o1Fjfntiuvjv3jcbgRPoaBCt0ZpLU4Zr7-ohC3JTwwjPlJgWG1Xn1GKpw1nmR-a_1N_rDX_F4OidRIuXrjTKV6smOLS1D-9TWHfLWFkaM/s320/HPIM0226.JPG" /></a>...<br /></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><br /><br /><br /><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Pretty, like 'Pioneer<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330604345614445714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBFz_ivInKJBhMTATAIWb9I1XE39Z75Nqn0sj4bDcGBQAxP4iGzDo3gR303eqa5dfx9TuEHIfjn4f06ByTZgCTAFgmi-emtUOs6CHXU0Lt4hsfcGOIoplaTdaW0T0QCgIiRUPgww90fn4/s320/HPIM0223.JPG" /><br /><br /><br />Whimsical, like 'Twiggy'<br /><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 241px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5330605952488039042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMEe5GGyR6ZkPnlWWa32b47rtZmWpuT_uhLoaN2c-lqFndAXblTvsQ9txST2lB35XSDA7bReSEsv5BVII4MTAZJBIrCKs29PQcSofRsshpdG3ErLvTAntU_fdhnx4KOA3HXNEArOn9zBU/s320/HPIM0231.JPG" /> One thing is for sure, whether a piece is 80 years old, or only 20, these timeless bits of history are beautiful, functional, and, in many cases, valuable. They can be mixed and matched to form a 'usable set' for everyday or special occasions, or simply collected and displayed. Some collectors focus on one pattern or color exclusively, others collect everything they can get their hands on, while still others, collect bits and pieces from different patterns they like with no regard to build a complete set. In any case, they make great conversation pieces, gifts, and heirlooms. Smiles...lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-45317906783168053162009-03-16T16:59:00.000-04:002009-03-27T19:43:24.279-04:00DAY OF WINE & LAUNDRYWell, Dear Friends, I've had the most loveliest of long weekends, by myself, as Dearest is still away on safari in, of all places, Florida. I spoke to him last night, and wonder of wonders! They were staying fairly close to Cape Canaveral, and you know what that means? Yes <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">siree</span> Bob, he and his buds watched the shuttle lift off last night. And bless his dearest darling self, he video-taped it for me! I am so jealous! He has the best luck. Had it been me, there most likely would have been a hurricane or some other dire calamity, such is my luck. I can hardly wait for him to get home so I can see the video for myself!<br /><br />But, I was going to chirp about wine and laundry. I know, I know, it's an odd combination, but there are stranger things out there, but we won't think of those right now.<br /><br />Having had the abode to myself since Thursday night, I was getting a little bored, and quite frankly, tired of being so damn slack-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">assed</span> about getting anything accomplished in the way of housework, reading, music. I'd had to work Friday, and was just slap wore out. Saturday, I thought, after my hair <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">appointment</span> and grocery-getting!!! Then I will get some shit done, I will!!! What a Pollyanna!<br /><br />Wouldn't you know, like a nitwit, I'd scheduled a hair appointment for-gasp! 7 of the a.m. on Saturday? The time under the drier while my color processed and the shampoo/scalp massage nudged me towards la-la land, and I was literally nodding off as Christie blow-dried my hair and cut it. But, darling and fantastic stylist that she is, I am happy to report that I still am in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">possession</span> of my hair, and it is rather fetching, I must say.<br /><br />Then, I had the brilliant idea of checking the local Goodwill store for any Depression Glass, so off I went. Oh my God, I hit the lucky jackpot! (See, my luck's not <em>totally </em>shit<em>). </em>$30 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">bux</span> later, I decide to try the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">east side</span> Goodwill. <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">OK</span>, still <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">rollin</span>' in luck, I spent $10 <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">bux</span>.<br /><br />It was about this point I had the thought to get me a bottle of Maximum Port from my favorite local winery, Oliver. Oh well, I thought, they carry it at the Big Red in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bedford</span>, and that's where I'm going to get my groceries, no <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">problemo</span> Joe.<br /><br />I'm all in a state, thinking about how, after the crappy housework is finished, I can reward myself with a big <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">ol</span>' glass of Port <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">whilest</span> I decide how to arrange my days haul of treasures. I get the groceries, I load them in the truck, I'm <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">smilin</span>' and the damn sun is <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">shinin</span>' just for me.<br /><br />HA--AND DOUBLE HA!!! The clouds roll in, the sky opens up, and the sun dims its' light; the liquor store no longer stocks Maximum Port; "There just isn't much demand for it here, but they do carry it at the main store uptown and on the south-side in <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bloomington</span>." I'm told by the genial store manager, as he apologizes, seeing my angst over the situation. I thank him politely, cursing at myself under my breath, as <em><strong>I</strong></em> <strong><em>just came from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">Bloomington</span></em></strong>!!! "You idiot!" I tell myself. "You should have just gotten it when you first thought of it--stupid, stupid, stupid!!!"<br /><br />I wearily decide to head home, unload the groceries and put them away, resigned to drudgery with no reward. Even the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">bling</span> of my newest sparkly treasures don't lift my spirits.<br /><br />Oh but AHA! There is a glimmer of light! I had forgotten to get fabric softener! Completely out, gone, finished. Now how, I ask you, can one do laundry with no fabric softener? It's not to be borne, I tell you! So, I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sling</span> the refrigerated items into the fridge, and off I go, in search of fabric softener--and Maximum Port. Tee <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hee</span>.<br /><br />Mission accomplished in 45 minutes, round trip, including parking, entering and seeking out items at both stores, paying for them, and returning home. Into the freezer with you, my lovely Port, whilst Mama puts the once-again-sparkly treasures in the dishwasher.<br /><br />Somewhere between finishing that little task and starting another one, the Port came out from its chilly repose, and oh my god, got poured into a glass. Now how the hell did that happen, I ask you? Oh well, who am I to question the workings of the wine...? <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ummmmm</span>....tasty, rich, opulent, sexy...this stuff is <em>gooooooooood</em>, let me tell you!<br /><br />Oh! What's that on <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">tv</span>? Oh, Led Zeppelin's The Song Remains The Same. When <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error">shidoogee</span>, I must watch it! And update my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_23" class="blsp-spelling-error">Facebook</span> status to reflect the decadent evening's fare. Well, suprise of suprises, I managed to get side-tracked then!<br /><br />Finally, about 9:30-10p.m., I decided, "Hey, I was gonna wash that there stuff on the bed." Prodded by giddiness, I strip the bed of all it's linens, thinking myself right smart for washing things in the correct order that I would have to put them on the bed. Into the washer with the mattress pad, then into the dryer with it! Into the washer with the sheets and pillowcases. Mattress pad on the bed, sheets in the dryer, quilt into the washer!!! <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_24" class="blsp-spelling-error">Wheeeeehoooooooo</span>-laundry sure is fun, you bet!<br /><br />But boys and girls, that fun sure can come crashing down quick and hard, let me tell you! Whilst I was patting myself on the back for being so dog-gone smart about the proper washing order, surfing the Web and arranging my newly clean and even more sparkly treasures, I had somehow drank the entire bottle of Port! Yep, that's right the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_25" class="blsp-spelling-error">whole</span> damn bottle. Not even a drop left in it. Now this particular port is about 40 proof, and I drank it all in about 3 hours. About the time <em>that</em> dawned on me, it also <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_26" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">occurred</span> <strong><em>that the damn laundry was not done!!! </em></strong>And I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_27" class="blsp-spelling-error">sooooooo</span> needed to lie down and just sleep.<br /><br />I spent nearly 30 minutes wrangling the sheets and pillowcases back into place while I waited for the quilt to dry. Pacing, nay stumbling, about I attempted to gather my wits and maintain my composure, praying, "Oh bloody hell...dry, dammit, dry!!! I'm out of wine and now I'm starting to whine...ugg!!!"<br /><br />At long last, the quilt dried, and I spent another 10 minutes trying to put it on the bed <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_28" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">straight</span> instead of sideways. Finally managed to do so, with much cursing and giggling in alternate turns. Oh sleep, sweet Morpheus, at last, at long last...<br /><br />Demon Rum, my foot! '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_29" class="blsp-spelling-error">Tis</span> Port, that Lady in Red that plies you with such sweetness that you forget to fear the sting she can dole out at your indiscretion of over-imbibing. Perhaps my little lucky-streak would hold? I rose late on Sunday, around noonish, groggy and foul-tempered, but blessedly, no hang-over---hallelujah!!!<br /><br />Let this be a lessons, kids, don't drink Port and do laundry--<strong><em>ever!!</em></strong> You will save yourself untold heartache and despair if you follow that little household rule. The two do not and will not ever go together. If you must drink and wash, try beer, it's much more suited to the task at hand.<br /><br />What did the Bard say, "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_30" class="blsp-spelling-error">All's</span> well that ends well"? Smiles...lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5286373587954043649.post-17600618135263489982009-03-08T17:58:00.000-04:002009-03-27T19:42:40.458-04:00Weekend? What Weekend?What a weekend! Having run errands and such all day yesterday, we found ourselves having to finish them up today. Which I hate, because to me, Sundays are lazy days, to be measured out in laundry, food prep for the week, organizing for the week ahead. But no! Not today!<br />My dearest darling husband is busy preparing for a "hog-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">huntin</span>' trip" with three of his friends. So, yesterday, instead of getting the light-weight pair of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">camo</span> pants he wanted, he <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">instead</span> came home from work on Friday limping painfully after tearing the heel off his boot on the step to his work truck. So, this necessitated a trip to the (World Famous!) Boot City store south of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">Terre</span> <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Haute</span>. That's all well and good, except that this man is so incredibly <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">persnickety</span> about various things, namely his hair, jeans and BOOTS.<br /><br />After a tasty breakfast of eggs, toast, grits and coffee, which I prepared lovingly, we set off. The trip itself was uneventful, the day was warmish, mid-60's and windy, but overall, lovely. Bearing in mind that we were to have dinner with friends that evening around 6-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">ish</span>, we were determined to get all our errands done. This, itself, is a joke, as the trying on of boots was involved.<br /><br />Leslie, the salesclerk, was extremely helpful and personable. She patiently fetched size after size of the style of boot Dearest Husband wanted, while I stood just as patiently nearby, watching with amusement. "This boot is too tight, that one too loose!" "Yes, and this one is bunching my toes up, but that one is too loose-feeling!" "Well, these fit, but the toes are tight, and this side must be stitched wrong as the side of the boot is creasing in and rubbing against my leg." Helpful Leslie oiled and stretched the offending side, to no avail, it still rubbed his leg and irritated him. Back to the bench to try more boots, same style, different sizes/widths...sigh...<br /><br />Finally, after 2 hours of what I call his impersonation of Jeff <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Foxworthy</span>--"This boot....or this boot...?" He decided on a pair, paid for them and off we went back home, staying only long enough to grab a sandwich before heading out again, only this time in the opposite direction, to 'complete' our errands. Ha. Double Ha.<br /><br />After a 10 minute wait to exchange a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">bluetooth</span> headset for work, (required, as he drives a commercial vehicle), he decides to come back, as the guy he needs to talk to is busy with a couple doing a phone upgrade. Off to Radio Shack to exchange the slider phone he got 3 weeks ago with one like I got 3 weeks ago. (On a related side note, I did research, comparative shopping, and soul-searching before deciding on the phone I wanted to upgrade to, enduring grunts and sighs and whining from him that I was driving him crazy with researching said phone I wanted). Phone switching completed, we returned to the AT&T store to exchange the headset. From there, it was time to head to our friends for dinner.<br /><br />Bear in mind that he still needed to buy a light-weight pair of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">camo</span> pants. And, I needed to do our weekly grocery shopping. The plan then became--"<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">OK</span>, we'll get up early, go get my pants, oh and a hard case for my new phone, and then we'll go get groceries together..." Yeah, and we went to bed at Midnight...<br /><br />So, being tired and having gotten to bed so late, we woke up at 8:30 a.m.--only it wasn't 8:30, it was 9:30, courtesy of DST, which I despise with a passion. Needless to say, being in Sunday mode, it was Noon before we rolled out the door.<br /><br />At least the trying on of pants wasn't as bad as the boots! Four pairs later, he had what he wanted, plus a really cool little S-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">carbiner</span> for his keys and a pair of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">sweat shorts</span>. By now, I had to pee from all the coffee required to motivate me to leave the house today. Since the sporting goods store had no bathroom of its own, we had to find the bathrooms at the mall. Mission accomplished, we stopped by the pet store on our way back out, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">ooo</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">ing</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_15" class="blsp-spelling-error">ahh</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_16" class="blsp-spelling-error">ing</span> over the puppies, then made a stop at a kiosk selling cell phone accessories. After finding a compatible hard case for the new phone, we left the mall, in search of lunch, having missed/skipped breakfast altogether. Ah, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_17" class="blsp-spelling-error">Buchetto's</span> Pizza! Yea! As usual, the pizza (sweet <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_18" class="blsp-spelling-error">lil</span> razorback--pepperoni, fresh basil, bacon and smoked sausage), was excellent. While waiting for our pizza, Dearest tried to remove the hard case to see how it came off the new phone, and proceeded to break it. Of course. This necessitated a return trip to the mall. Case exchanged, off to our daughter's to see her and the g-babies, one of whom was still at his dad's...sigh.<br /><br />While there, I received an email alert from the Weather Channel about a tornado warning. Great! We headed for home, stopping to fill my truck up for the week. Six more emails in quick succession, one alerting us to the fact that a tornado had been spotted very near where we live, sent me into a "get the hell out of my way, people, I've gotta get home and see if my dog and house are <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_19" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">OK</span>" mode. All was well, thank the stars, and now, as I post this, the sun is shining.<br /><br />The upshot is, since groceries were not obtained yet, that, after work, in addition to doing some banking (that <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_20" class="blsp-spelling-error">shoulda</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_21" class="blsp-spelling-error">woulda</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_22" class="blsp-spelling-error">coulda</span> got done Saturday), I have to get groceries. I could have went this afternoon, but, dammit, I've run all I want to this weekend.<br /><br />On a positive note, however, I spent the entire weekend with Dearest, and that's better than getting all the errands done in one day. Smiles...lunablu63http://www.blogger.com/profile/04323304764255100270noreply@blogger.com2