tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-87209865555985617852024-03-05T02:24:15.401-05:00Robin's RamblingsWELCOME TO MY MUSINGS...STILL CRAZY AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!
Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.comBlogger525125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-23706882813137351312023-02-11T18:26:00.006-05:002023-02-11T18:29:28.163-05:00Layered Salad<div><span style="font-size: medium;">Just found this recipe in my unpublished blogs. Don't ask me why it was there. I may have posted it before and it's not an uncommon recipe, but it's a good one. So here it is again.</span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>This is tasty and a huge hit with guests. My daughter calls it horizontal salad. You can make it big in a fancy see through bowl, or smaller for just a couple of servings. Make a day ahead and let the flavours absorb and meld. The photo at the end is in a normal bowl. I usually take my time to make it look nicer for company and I use an etched footed bowl.<br />
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Essentially, you need these ingredients - (start at bottom of list with lettuce to the top cheese). Don't ask me why I wrote everything in reverse order but this is how it looks in a bowl...lettuce at the bottom.<br />
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old/sharp cheddar cheese (old is best for taste)<br />
a teaspoon of sugar or sweetener<br />
real mayonnaise (not miracle whip)<br />
frozen sweetlet peas<br />
spanish or red onion<br />
one red pepper (or other colour)<br />
celery<br />
iceberg lettuce (or any kind I guess)<br />
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I chop enough lettuce to fill about 1/3 of bowl.<br />
Next, add about 2 or 3 stalks of celery (depending on salad size), chopped small, diagonally.<br />
Seed and chop a large red pepper, although I've used other colours...orange or yellow.<br />
Chop enough red (prettier) or spanish onion to create another layer. Use a whole one for big salad.<br />
Layer frozen peas on top of all this but make sure there's no snow or frost on them.<br />
Spread a layer of mayo., sprinkle with sugar or sweetener.<br />
Grate enough old cheddar cheese to create another layer.<br />
For added colour and decoration you can put parsley on top or a very light sprinkling of paprika.<br />
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***Variation - For meat eaters a variation is to crumble half a dozen slices of crispy cooked bacon on top.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ImjDll877k4vnKdDH2RnyolCtSyIVGkC907sSphyua_UwxhQkfhLTKPZVDfjvtTSuUFAYDfEXlAkMfjQwTAdLeP3p2tIHEtp56vwGViyE6D3gehfHsD2PBeVUvuna-uTgOIbAB7vroM/s1600/salad.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="912" data-original-width="960" height="304" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-ImjDll877k4vnKdDH2RnyolCtSyIVGkC907sSphyua_UwxhQkfhLTKPZVDfjvtTSuUFAYDfEXlAkMfjQwTAdLeP3p2tIHEtp56vwGViyE6D3gehfHsD2PBeVUvuna-uTgOIbAB7vroM/s320/salad.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">
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</span>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-29025712618345457222023-02-07T11:48:00.003-05:002023-02-07T11:48:38.625-05:00Mom's Wooden Dog Planter Box <p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: medium;"><b>During covid lockdown, I worked on a number of projects. Here's one of them from </b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><i><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: medium;"><b>May -June 2021. (Some details may be foggy since it's now two years later)</b></span></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">When I asked my daughter what she wanted for her birthday, she replied, "butter tarts." </span></span></div><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Ummm...not an item that's easily shippable to the buttertartless country where she lives. I had to be on the lookout for a unique gift. Since we were in covid lockdown and real shopping wasn't an option, I was stumped. I couldn't think of much she would want, couldn't get for herself, or didn't already own...except for butter tarts that is. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Her prized possession is her chihuahua. She's also been into gardening in a big way. During my frantic "googling", I found a few examples of very cute wooden dog planter boxes on various sites. They were in the neighbourhood of $115. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">"Wow. I could build that myself." I heard myself say.</span></p><p><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: medium;"><i><b>***Side Note - Remind me not to listen to myself in future.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Anyhow, it seemed like a good idea to build a planter box myself. Hubby did not discourage me, but as husbands do, offered some helpful advice. After a few attempts, I finally managed to create something small enough to ship. It resembled a cross between a chihuahua and a bulldog, but, it was made with mom's own hands. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Now I know why these things cost so much online.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFahVqJyKY0yPS4btSCZys3OLP6bq9zfbMHXnci095dO1ghWXjrYjuVvzvwleDH8vxsRNz37VoMNoG4YpLTh_y0mVjPn5axunGq3moWCLuMJzYfQrD2abTSTDfAE1keI8D8V1LkOUSZMw/s1316/200940610_10158695647783889_225920932315365054_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFahVqJyKY0yPS4btSCZys3OLP6bq9zfbMHXnci095dO1ghWXjrYjuVvzvwleDH8vxsRNz37VoMNoG4YpLTh_y0mVjPn5axunGq3moWCLuMJzYfQrD2abTSTDfAE1keI8D8V1LkOUSZMw/s320/200940610_10158695647783889_225920932315365054_n.jpg" width="156" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">My original effort was too large, awkward, uneven, and well...just no. But then, we all know the saying, "If at first you don't succeed..." Perhaps that expression should have ended with "give up". But alas, I was determined.</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeYdJn000tdV-tQ_iV-G1MddcZmuHW6kUHCWKIWJPM5rWqtwRHTu7MSQKfGWimNnMvy86qr0vOGLm19VLWBcD_XoTTPxxI5-c9cxGb7FgcRvRGMmauK39frUX7Tw4aOyjUScuQE1epgVnJnw7PUcOtYfVI-S2Kz2JIvLYYF2mDgLkO95Y0dxqDT5p/s2015/201194517_10158695648773889_7204828936751904833_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1361" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIeYdJn000tdV-tQ_iV-G1MddcZmuHW6kUHCWKIWJPM5rWqtwRHTu7MSQKfGWimNnMvy86qr0vOGLm19VLWBcD_XoTTPxxI5-c9cxGb7FgcRvRGMmauK39frUX7Tw4aOyjUScuQE1epgVnJnw7PUcOtYfVI-S2Kz2JIvLYYF2mDgLkO95Y0dxqDT5p/s320/201194517_10158695648773889_7204828936751904833_n.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the determination, irritation, and perspiration on my face.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">After finally getting the box to a manageable and shippable size, I thought about the head, the butt, the legs and tail. Would they consist of one piece, or separate pieces of wood? Without thinking too much (because that's how I usually operate...full steam ahead), I decided it would be wise to create separate cardboard templates which I could cut, assemble, and fit onto the box which I'd created.</span><div><i><b><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></i></div><div><span style="color: #2b00fe; font-size: medium;"><i><b>But first, since the original steps were so exhausting, I had to rest and admire the partially completed project for several days. There may have been a martini or two involved, I don't remember.</b></i></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Once I determined that my templates were of reasonable size and shape, I traced them onto wood and stared at the jigsaw for awhile. The voice in my head that I rarely listen to, said, "Go for it." I did. I made a butt and a front. It wasn't that hard. </span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRwlef4EbfooM2a7Cmy1UlvpH-gE-9gExrnzGqpjlRr-BtHnNaTvPyAj_oDzKKskFKr6zFKpgjJbau_pJ0n13fI7Tm0sI76ZYjMmFBz1VmW95JBNfe9AFeYoknW6Wo6l0zlom1kRBGuoP6fZBifMbp54NTcofj9tWA2kmkjFMJm54D91g09uRYb5UH/s960/201111518_10158695642823889_8016180011998852182_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="575" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRwlef4EbfooM2a7Cmy1UlvpH-gE-9gExrnzGqpjlRr-BtHnNaTvPyAj_oDzKKskFKr6zFKpgjJbau_pJ0n13fI7Tm0sI76ZYjMmFBz1VmW95JBNfe9AFeYoknW6Wo6l0zlom1kRBGuoP6fZBifMbp54NTcofj9tWA2kmkjFMJm54D91g09uRYb5UH/s320/201111518_10158695642823889_8016180011998852182_n.jpg" width="192" /></a></div> </span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgRBlNJV0SvWa89oFIFWAkJ7Q8Sn2TDEe66JSLZDR21RJpYaawkfyHdj865WhBAXW-SLYkExMs743yu-gF5dU65u0dTBsUa1nCAVeyv4dBWU2DWiRHkks06EIdg_tC-ooaihmw7zpwDrW7YPkMi54outLNkjCqtUfsWziLCU4aC1D-5FIHgxgBW3O/s960/203539311_10158695642968889_5291391294700164518_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; font-size: large; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="838" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipgRBlNJV0SvWa89oFIFWAkJ7Q8Sn2TDEe66JSLZDR21RJpYaawkfyHdj865WhBAXW-SLYkExMs743yu-gF5dU65u0dTBsUa1nCAVeyv4dBWU2DWiRHkks06EIdg_tC-ooaihmw7zpwDrW7YPkMi54outLNkjCqtUfsWziLCU4aC1D-5FIHgxgBW3O/w279-h320/203539311_10158695642968889_5291391294700164518_n.jpg" width="279" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;">Energized with new found confidence, I charged full steam ahead, cutting out the head, eyes, nose, tail, and snout and gluing all the parts together.</span><span style="font-size: large;"> I was on a roll. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"> There was still lots of thinking involved, but I could see how this was going to come together. The hardest part was going to be wrapping and sending it when I was done. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQpFWG07F0MDa1SwE5KBoM2s1V5icNq2VlMOJU2bhla1KaMOY_D_wb6Dhig-Ee3dOx79xcaq8z8U_M2Eb82p1MaFXYAb1BOMfYrP8CSRvCd5BzEgFOHyXSUHS3De3GZFbq0023DZcVq512Ao5LuCWi9xI51qgmTGjAt5agS6e-go1Ql3lZHK0ylLv2/s960/202658072_10158695642723889_1718530606960156089_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="918" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQpFWG07F0MDa1SwE5KBoM2s1V5icNq2VlMOJU2bhla1KaMOY_D_wb6Dhig-Ee3dOx79xcaq8z8U_M2Eb82p1MaFXYAb1BOMfYrP8CSRvCd5BzEgFOHyXSUHS3De3GZFbq0023DZcVq512Ao5LuCWi9xI51qgmTGjAt5agS6e-go1Ql3lZHK0ylLv2/s320/202658072_10158695642723889_1718530606960156089_n.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><br />I decided to paint and seal all the pieces prior to assembling. This was a wise decision since I had to do the front and back of each piece for uniformity. With quite a few more touch ups, some further gluing, nailing and reinforcing, the box was done. It was far from perfect, and didn't quite satisfy my chihuahua desired look, but it was finished, and it was cute enough.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbL58SKSYe3FMgNX0iVn24OI4Q_2k0X5_3OPD7KejUEmgPb2qAp0HL1KPmVazgsZO0UjFy9won9aAyPFaoqhbXtD43VmNDVCYgyEfaUDxFdHikVRIMZDtnQkYYzLSN1q-ky3FoB095qi7iKsI-g_aX10GRW58QKQSGyjpL7pByMc4BzlhwIv6vivm/s960/205015234_10158695642583889_7752672023582601766_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="579" height="298" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkbL58SKSYe3FMgNX0iVn24OI4Q_2k0X5_3OPD7KejUEmgPb2qAp0HL1KPmVazgsZO0UjFy9won9aAyPFaoqhbXtD43VmNDVCYgyEfaUDxFdHikVRIMZDtnQkYYzLSN1q-ky3FoB095qi7iKsI-g_aX10GRW58QKQSGyjpL7pByMc4BzlhwIv6vivm/w194-h298/205015234_10158695642583889_7752672023582601766_n.jpg" width="194" /></a></div> <span style="font-size: medium;"> </span><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="728" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzVWUx9-0bOrTvThcXma0H_yeKpnbsMJb3h6RvCNw-MN9SZkLCFRoZPXJ1Kt9a-g7zgzS3sxxwXrF4wD3kpP3DzjvlHns8eauCcZ0GlGRL3Cl4bThnIGOzSeX8sKutjvwW8l8AoFySSIsj_MGoZtn0gyl6fpjQcEYgIgXdFwHb_068T5SxChXaaYq/w243-h320/202390861_10158695642543889_6089703703656814511_n.jpg" style="font-size: large;" width="243" /><div><span style="clear: right; float: right; font-size: medium; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWzVWUx9-0bOrTvThcXma0H_yeKpnbsMJb3h6RvCNw-MN9SZkLCFRoZPXJ1Kt9a-g7zgzS3sxxwXrF4wD3kpP3DzjvlHns8eauCcZ0GlGRL3Cl4bThnIGOzSeX8sKutjvwW8l8AoFySSIsj_MGoZtn0gyl6fpjQcEYgIgXdFwHb_068T5SxChXaaYq/s960/202390861_10158695642543889_6089703703656814511_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div></span><span style="font-size: medium;">I was fairly confident that this could be sent via UPS without too much problem. I did worry a bit about the protruding ear appendages, so I carefully wrapped those in extra bubble wrap and tissue prior to mailing. I suppose I could have filled the planter with butter tarts, but feared that that could get quite messy in the heat of July.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0z1g9V4d-NNuhcgBi_d8rbSJfHARmxspzWsA2oWfqqA2mp5bKmWv7fpD7AFYoJmZdxz_bELbuudPgDJ-UTasEBG41AHBMPeqTkF81htwJaRJJtK5mTBDydM7zK-RBlFQjC1hT-7HodsvOkK3twPg6eg431qAZyOZjDD28bOEuWWbUZLQlCwfkJjI/s960/205747709_10158695647883889_1825353528697059065_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="686" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir0z1g9V4d-NNuhcgBi_d8rbSJfHARmxspzWsA2oWfqqA2mp5bKmWv7fpD7AFYoJmZdxz_bELbuudPgDJ-UTasEBG41AHBMPeqTkF81htwJaRJJtK5mTBDydM7zK-RBlFQjC1hT-7HodsvOkK3twPg6eg431qAZyOZjDD28bOEuWWbUZLQlCwfkJjI/w143-h200/205747709_10158695647883889_1825353528697059065_n.jpg" width="143" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>My daughter's dog was the first one to check out her new rival after the planter arrived. Of course, it wasn't as cute as she was, but, it was a surprise made by mom's own hands. </span></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKm8fZFqpQh8QNogdEqSFubJ_JJtGtZlJbvTZkAYK9qIc6pHbW1noMB2gvWTIqRkdZnQBwpNjXq1VovXes0iLUkm_y08UeazEtP46FpJKqpNcJCWnE-BZzaGnueL8B8rsAR8XdbyDfhI6yIXZ2WGmQGmgUQRdq4BUi1aYYdQBdScZFpEBSXYplI2FJ/s859/202100628_10158703573928889_3125775339884061108_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="859" data-original-width="720" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKm8fZFqpQh8QNogdEqSFubJ_JJtGtZlJbvTZkAYK9qIc6pHbW1noMB2gvWTIqRkdZnQBwpNjXq1VovXes0iLUkm_y08UeazEtP46FpJKqpNcJCWnE-BZzaGnueL8B8rsAR8XdbyDfhI6yIXZ2WGmQGmgUQRdq4BUi1aYYdQBdScZFpEBSXYplI2FJ/s320/202100628_10158703573928889_3125775339884061108_n.jpg" width="268" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;">I saved the information and dimensions in case I ever want to make another similar item. I can tell you right now, that even though I'm glad I made this one, another one is never going to happen. In fact, I don't even understand my own drawing.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVVDLWry-5xguFJRRoHhOG_eJPGFrMWdLF0Pc9NF8vvpMd-8nyZqp0PzSNbUrkFWFMGXJNidhQuWR7tRLwbkyNK_CFFfkMNfMClZ-ankdJom981dUVVcbsq_bdamEs52HFG0O1bwpTYFaMEcbqyWWaHO_ulfmBHEYngcFDjzxy49PcxIZH_xOA-RP/s591/329004255_936824583983808_3479869971088407598_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="591" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlVVDLWry-5xguFJRRoHhOG_eJPGFrMWdLF0Pc9NF8vvpMd-8nyZqp0PzSNbUrkFWFMGXJNidhQuWR7tRLwbkyNK_CFFfkMNfMClZ-ankdJom981dUVVcbsq_bdamEs52HFG0O1bwpTYFaMEcbqyWWaHO_ulfmBHEYngcFDjzxy49PcxIZH_xOA-RP/w285-h320/329004255_936824583983808_3479869971088407598_n.jpg" width="285" /></a></div><div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;">In the spirit of true confessions, I'll say this. I don't have a great attention span. I get bored easily and take a long time with most of my efforts. I create a lot of things once or twice, and lose interest in ever doing them again. In fact, I'm surprised that my blog with its hundreds of partially completed writings still exists.</span></div></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-63753229133564133432023-01-31T23:10:00.000-05:002023-01-31T23:10:09.036-05:00Helen, Georgia - Not For All Seniors<p>We drove for several hours. Stopped at Babyland General Hospital in Cleveland Georgia, home of the Cabbage Patch Doll. I loved the visit (see prior blog). Then we proceeded another fifteen minutes to our actual destination, Helen. Excitedly, we anticipated a German village similar to others we had visited (Frankenmuth Michigan and Leavenworth Washington).</p><p>The town lay in the midst of a beautiful mountainous area surrounded by water and trees. We were greeted by a "Willkommen" sign, Welcome. As we drove around, we saw evidence of assorted cultures. There were a few German street names, some Dutch, some native American, and some...well, Main Street, main stream.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhJR_FSXI78wqZLRXBHxo83TddD3lW2LtiXoqQST7B01lwo5NDxRvTC00gfI1ULekBBUe22RLT3QT0v0sSDiHr8u0WY-DBYloIodyhcxfgVwGBZTz8dL1RGbhTDFflqW9l9mgrkRlVAYWZNoNvkasfCCxLWEbA2m_KFfqbnCZpSymch9H6vODn1pI/s2048/326254713_1201237074087510_1647070831336583400_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1477" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwhJR_FSXI78wqZLRXBHxo83TddD3lW2LtiXoqQST7B01lwo5NDxRvTC00gfI1ULekBBUe22RLT3QT0v0sSDiHr8u0WY-DBYloIodyhcxfgVwGBZTz8dL1RGbhTDFflqW9l9mgrkRlVAYWZNoNvkasfCCxLWEbA2m_KFfqbnCZpSymch9H6vODn1pI/s320/326254713_1201237074087510_1647070831336583400_n.jpg" width="231" /></a></div><p>We stopped at the Tourist Information Centre where I was given several brochures and coupons. </p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSGDDgnGapGJEOp60r-4_G3rBO46JI8Fdj7bXvV9XM54_F0jrkpeQnF7CXE-jYGs4-00U9NfV_6S41ukiOaDRbfwejxc7FAs_70g321nKNYKI9UsqbzJB9FGye2yrxJJoiWDex7AQ3tUuEM7OvsLNRns_8ochuf_QaVXVEtwYwy9k-O5lVLHHacayC/s1420/326727180_836851127389881_5242942640811743377_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1420" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSGDDgnGapGJEOp60r-4_G3rBO46JI8Fdj7bXvV9XM54_F0jrkpeQnF7CXE-jYGs4-00U9NfV_6S41ukiOaDRbfwejxc7FAs_70g321nKNYKI9UsqbzJB9FGye2yrxJJoiWDex7AQ3tUuEM7OvsLNRns_8ochuf_QaVXVEtwYwy9k-O5lVLHHacayC/s320/326727180_836851127389881_5242942640811743377_n.jpg" width="144" /></a></div>Since it was lunch hour, we decided to try one of the restaurants which the tourism lady had highlighted for us. She also told us that there were over 200 shops. These included some of the following: a pottery shop; toy store; gift store; gourd shop; a jewelry store; candy stores, and a Dutch import store. We drove through town and noted that many of the small buildings and stores looked a bit worn and tacky with lights, fake greenery, and residual Christmas decor. We also discovered that there was no on street parking, so we looked for one of the marked public parking locations. Imagine our surprise when parking costs were between $6 and $10. It wouldn't have been too bad except that we are older and it would have required considerable walking to go anyplace...definitely not senior or handicapped friendly.<div><br /></div><div>We then went to Hofer's Bakery and Restaurant in the hopes of finding some goodies and lunch. They had their own parking behind. Sadly, it was closed for vacation.</div><div><br /></div><div>At this point we were ready to give up and move on. We still hadn't had any lunch however, so we looked for yet another place, found it was also closed, and ended up at pub type restaurant called Bigg Daddys. We were wary at first thinking we might just have a snack, but the menu looked good and the food turned out to be delicious.</div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP98XkoG2_Y86p3CwRZRHnFkICZZT0rVWvt8HKa4XbyaDRW_Ar74rqSXqZLt-o60q8SRwPYFtZcqaWWkPzRLjVGsNQP1JWdO454gBcOjZ1VPA40bVjIsUOFTbHMsJOMa_rNeDajGtt4mEEcGtEJ8jWbYfOPNzmDfU6QQs0xg7y1hLjNQD8sRLBz5Ad/s706/326223763_3590168831218822_6273465352719896222_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="540" data-original-width="706" height="153" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgP98XkoG2_Y86p3CwRZRHnFkICZZT0rVWvt8HKa4XbyaDRW_Ar74rqSXqZLt-o60q8SRwPYFtZcqaWWkPzRLjVGsNQP1JWdO454gBcOjZ1VPA40bVjIsUOFTbHMsJOMa_rNeDajGtt4mEEcGtEJ8jWbYfOPNzmDfU6QQs0xg7y1hLjNQD8sRLBz5Ad/w200-h153/326223763_3590168831218822_6273465352719896222_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br /></div><div>So I learned through tripadvisor that the top five things to do in Helen, are outdoor activities...waterfalls and hiking trails. In fact the lady at the welcome center told us that the waterfall was literally, a hike from the parking lot.</div><div><br /></div><div>This town is great for the outdoors person with an interest in some store browsing. There are several hotels available for people travelling a greater distance. It didn't seem to be "high" season since a number of places were closed. Perhaps it's busier in the summer.</div><div><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZSxoSk72miOprz8Bmly2FEljULGgehMyg0WMJSsFoYzPdGzAOL48OUZ2zpsAgvOMFG_YQ_1iPM7zoBDk3iFc3xDQnwtzjJuPT78nM09I7DvXp7KLkOomMen8X0kyYyG3KpPh2eNsF1Xa1zOEeRL33yoeivJh7h0xpYPbXes9Guwl63ThI6vk8Dww/s1408/326224419_745533986719820_493335135021899483_n.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1297" data-original-width="1408" height="369" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEZSxoSk72miOprz8Bmly2FEljULGgehMyg0WMJSsFoYzPdGzAOL48OUZ2zpsAgvOMFG_YQ_1iPM7zoBDk3iFc3xDQnwtzjJuPT78nM09I7DvXp7KLkOomMen8X0kyYyG3KpPh2eNsF1Xa1zOEeRL33yoeivJh7h0xpYPbXes9Guwl63ThI6vk8Dww/w400-h369/326224419_745533986719820_493335135021899483_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This windmill was kind of cool</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div><br /></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-4025291642468964582023-01-25T23:24:00.001-05:002023-01-25T23:24:25.467-05:00Babyland General Hospital<p>For those of us who became parents in the eighties, or those who were children of the eighties, we know how difficult it was to get certain essential toys. For some, this meant searching within a hundred mile radius to locate a Ghostbuster Firehall. For others, it was the elusive new thing in toys, the Cabbage Patch Doll.</p><p>People were rushing department stores and trampling each other to get their hands on one of these unique $25 dolls. It was said that no two were alike. </p><p>Xavier Roberts, was an award winning art student, born in Cleveland Georgia. When he was 21, Roberts met ***Martha Nelson Thomas at a craft fair in Kentucky. She was the creator of soft sculpted dolls which became the inspiration for the very similar looking Cabbage Patch Kids. According to a variety of articles, she also had the adoption paper idea. Roberts first called his dolls "Little People" and eventually sold his dolls under the Cabbage Patch Kids name after creating an elaborate cabbage and magic crystals story. </p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAxgjqxBRBJKFIjKQAB3nHXlhxjcc6Q0SYI92SZaagOSvmZBoEBgrApmrY6yVH1ik88TA7T8H3bEANcOqqmQqVgkRI8GBItdSRWkWijiipxF72zWJWzjTR-Ppa2jiW_7qyz62Dno9xhKXWuJVQhyoQf6hd8nGPWVrBm8emJTGnn4t8tfM2ip4zjwA/s2048/326268908_728210525334741_7000640043747438424_n.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1627" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjAxgjqxBRBJKFIjKQAB3nHXlhxjcc6Q0SYI92SZaagOSvmZBoEBgrApmrY6yVH1ik88TA7T8H3bEANcOqqmQqVgkRI8GBItdSRWkWijiipxF72zWJWzjTR-Ppa2jiW_7qyz62Dno9xhKXWuJVQhyoQf6hd8nGPWVrBm8emJTGnn4t8tfM2ip4zjwA/s320/326268908_728210525334741_7000640043747438424_n.jpg" width="254" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">crystals at bottom right</td></tr></tbody></table> Roberts went into business and hired local seamstresses to produce his dolls in a converted medical clinic (Babyland General Hospital) in his hometown of Cleveland, Georgia. <br /><p> Original cabbage patch dolls were made using a process of needle molding, a German technique for fabric sculpture along with a quilting technique, taught to Roberts by his mother.</p><p> I was one of those parents in the eighties. No, I didn't have to wait in line, or resort to violence to get a doll, but I was fortunate enough to locate a baby version complete with yellow onesie, a bonnet, and pacifier.</p><p> This is where my 2023 adventure begins.</p><p> I was in Atlanta area recently and was made aware of Babyland General Hospital by my daughter. Prior to this trip, I knew very little of the cabbage patch dolls' history. How did I not know about this place sooner? I was fascinated because I'm a sucker for any kind of odd or unique attractions to visit. Not only that, the price was right...free admission.</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8rgSzaCkFvui784sfgWtgJU36IOOqwibriS18pMJR9RK7Ux260l8Tx3TfYc4cRsD2rJQ6e4sLaXhH86ptbYMX4iaZHSfIu5_YjkZkx-z092ouTBpjV9iJX8bymk3pOGsCCi_sm78OEiLl5IBvb4EzWNQDTwIeBDnZbMLIAN1jB1_lV5A1VuvujvX/s2048/326564192_2918534481613240_3428100346989290705_n.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb8rgSzaCkFvui784sfgWtgJU36IOOqwibriS18pMJR9RK7Ux260l8Tx3TfYc4cRsD2rJQ6e4sLaXhH86ptbYMX4iaZHSfIu5_YjkZkx-z092ouTBpjV9iJX8bymk3pOGsCCi_sm78OEiLl5IBvb4EzWNQDTwIeBDnZbMLIAN1jB1_lV5A1VuvujvX/w277-h320/326564192_2918534481613240_3428100346989290705_n.jpg" width="277" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8OP4Gix2UqgJICPCdSOAb6A1vu9DiXRDoC3gOfsGAoOF9RctDxgo1XydYIlFyHDrmm4XozYasFg3RlfD_V-mYxAMeEHVq8HtZlH21wYo53j5pa8-jSm7Sc9dmECunKhzekCVo0bicNq0WdrIZSkce5L0CdnVkx16z3TdDZNJyZgs-1RQavbXyWlE/s2048/326197512_6206762432669655_7415433426473277624_n.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1051" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho8OP4Gix2UqgJICPCdSOAb6A1vu9DiXRDoC3gOfsGAoOF9RctDxgo1XydYIlFyHDrmm4XozYasFg3RlfD_V-mYxAMeEHVq8HtZlH21wYo53j5pa8-jSm7Sc9dmECunKhzekCVo0bicNq0WdrIZSkce5L0CdnVkx16z3TdDZNJyZgs-1RQavbXyWlE/w163-h320/326197512_6206762432669655_7415433426473277624_n.jpg" width="163" /></a>We drove to Cleveland on a bright, sunny Friday. As we approached the massive white hospital, I was becoming very excited to go inside. Nonetheless, I first needed to stop for a photo in front of the entry sign.</p><p>We parked and I walked around the building to the entrance where I was greeted by a lovely lady in a nurse's uniform. She informed me that it was ok to take as many pictures as I wanted, so I immediately took advantage of the opportunity to photograph her. "I'll bet you get your picture taken a lot." I said. "Oh yeah," she responded.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYzivB6hVb7HoyLu9lRS0WqMtklhAfOHo3IX2hd42-qte8cZgmFX68b9fNcfHv9pZzf0o3juOd5aPJUGpXQ9M_2kImEK48jUyTlue1Jucqn8IDzZEXBSr6_QpAsJ-AwB41jeCRSCj4-vuLlA2_JNswLxOQCEn5Ap46UbEsYU6D0QxUV7o74HzgAAO/s2048/326304395_1540280919809538_7635025555639677448_n.jpg" style="display: inline; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1179" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMYzivB6hVb7HoyLu9lRS0WqMtklhAfOHo3IX2hd42-qte8cZgmFX68b9fNcfHv9pZzf0o3juOd5aPJUGpXQ9M_2kImEK48jUyTlue1Jucqn8IDzZEXBSr6_QpAsJ-AwB41jeCRSCj4-vuLlA2_JNswLxOQCEn5Ap46UbEsYU6D0QxUV7o74HzgAAO/w230-h400/326304395_1540280919809538_7635025555639677448_n.jpg" width="230" /></a></div><p>As I walked into the first room, a large space with many windows and glass display cases, I was enthralled by so many original soft sculpted dolls. There were all styles including historical figures, professions, formal attire and more. All dolls had a description or an informative note about who donated them. </p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBbVh9FG1D0WcPbURzVa9LxIFc6nOPRATmp37LPGr-_bysiArA50ivluI7hCa6BH7TddqOe0dC82p3zRjSFJzQVaqqVL0biAQSOLbgdEjmnh_uiQfPu65iSj6pmmcA21XXVXklL1VhSVfHVusmlqWR33BmOccYhW1QUVwgEQqbkoWH8JmICY2xmCR/s2048/326537389_719014492912827_5990916510451655210_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1230" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilBbVh9FG1D0WcPbURzVa9LxIFc6nOPRATmp37LPGr-_bysiArA50ivluI7hCa6BH7TddqOe0dC82p3zRjSFJzQVaqqVL0biAQSOLbgdEjmnh_uiQfPu65iSj6pmmcA21XXVXklL1VhSVfHVusmlqWR33BmOccYhW1QUVwgEQqbkoWH8JmICY2xmCR/w192-h320/326537389_719014492912827_5990916510451655210_n.jpg" width="192" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzwfZNcUhFGRVJvgD5jQz3U25mg-ri1uT7t4UZvgU2b5igZkAvaOnHimwS8iPFh9z4_gOuS7SEvmzjIJAIx4TKfavYNXBpBl5uJHW9g5uyOPwfzFIN03a3EnjWdH8NfQ5jHE_Hn2RSYWnzl_QrbrhNx2SIayrqjbHI-3qVPCEBl_sZpYkcb2xUakW/s2048/326677041_693071019212088_1268298275126337616_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="922" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbzwfZNcUhFGRVJvgD5jQz3U25mg-ri1uT7t4UZvgU2b5igZkAvaOnHimwS8iPFh9z4_gOuS7SEvmzjIJAIx4TKfavYNXBpBl5uJHW9g5uyOPwfzFIN03a3EnjWdH8NfQ5jHE_Hn2RSYWnzl_QrbrhNx2SIayrqjbHI-3qVPCEBl_sZpYkcb2xUakW/w144-h320/326677041_693071019212088_1268298275126337616_n.jpg" width="144" /></a></div> .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcDuZP3MeqfPyP_cYqMteOSdTdr3vm5cDW_neHf3kgKBqCfTlsVfr3OLMJOnEtWotAqrMjLDGq6bST-RLcMMnnCz4VmyHxsGq3sSqmxRihd05yuX9Q55gqGSHKTGSSm2hdjQeDuGzr28vLQHeoKZnFXl9tPpFWcaT4Rto1qCPUWD-yBtR6c1R9iX3/s2048/326225986_1476717696150334_149352999733537995_n.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="922" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikcDuZP3MeqfPyP_cYqMteOSdTdr3vm5cDW_neHf3kgKBqCfTlsVfr3OLMJOnEtWotAqrMjLDGq6bST-RLcMMnnCz4VmyHxsGq3sSqmxRihd05yuX9Q55gqGSHKTGSSm2hdjQeDuGzr28vLQHeoKZnFXl9tPpFWcaT4Rto1qCPUWD-yBtR6c1R9iX3/w139-h320/326225986_1476717696150334_149352999733537995_n.jpg" width="139" /></a><div> <div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVfeuFSguvXC3sDuhAmRrMO20SV-khWfM2qjNNlfelERxnVyqye1NXqHlPYAMqn02d3wX5NWaO8QCJk7cZxxfr9ZjTLNVzHRUvzhgCrqoUu2s7qSkJ2ScO9GRZhw2te0VRSkB_b4riw7-pLK--mGKnTPZ1aC3hrCcouJ9CQzPnP-PVU53lw6I9jYQH/s2048/326225986_1476717696150334_149352999733537995_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">I continued through the individually decorated nurseries and admired the occupants. Each had a personality of its own. There were even sibling sets in some of the cribs. I noted the faint, unmistakable scent of baby powder in the air. </div></div><div> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMaiIxvuEx2k45xdXqGAidCTvNuxgGX4tiCCt1wlDxaoMhDEOKBCyQyuTT6zsGK2NTVFaBXkHkyO0MBqlVeDAmPTQonByZniQIOzV34IErqgwu6MzL2JVuNm6AXIQ6jelTYtMHIP6YfRAsZxj8PQmUjCPcm7UG7aToNUcchEQtQcgnKd8jd6F3Z18/s2048/326343466_1203862420555605_513217045790037338_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1463" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyMaiIxvuEx2k45xdXqGAidCTvNuxgGX4tiCCt1wlDxaoMhDEOKBCyQyuTT6zsGK2NTVFaBXkHkyO0MBqlVeDAmPTQonByZniQIOzV34IErqgwu6MzL2JVuNm6AXIQ6jelTYtMHIP6YfRAsZxj8PQmUjCPcm7UG7aToNUcchEQtQcgnKd8jd6F3Z18/s320/326343466_1203862420555605_513217045790037338_n.jpg" width="229" /></a></div><div><br /></div>After I passed the nurseries, I came into a room where the cabbages were growing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4caIyc9w0njPt_gnUmTpYqXuE2nRMl2WWSaOWBoFxTQw77YUWwSawFKR5aRPPYMkq6ogd-Zytju1QiyPGrrXgfcKcAgDib9Gd37-8ERaS2undwQOgxgs_mZfHjObNj2b8ZQDpfBkgmy8-NQ59Io54aFsaCjXgg98niGmQxglM0tx_cofRTIwpZqLr/s2048/326304395_731028148302176_8478579305290909257_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1218" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4caIyc9w0njPt_gnUmTpYqXuE2nRMl2WWSaOWBoFxTQw77YUWwSawFKR5aRPPYMkq6ogd-Zytju1QiyPGrrXgfcKcAgDib9Gd37-8ERaS2undwQOgxgs_mZfHjObNj2b8ZQDpfBkgmy8-NQ59Io54aFsaCjXgg98niGmQxglM0tx_cofRTIwpZqLr/w190-h320/326304395_731028148302176_8478579305290909257_n.jpg" width="190" /></a></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyEuM-oHqhM7L-o5sLahAQ817nH82KxuQvCegtv3nlSbxxzcec8nzliaDlCriUKije_osZBtYQeqN98JxyHdnNULeLSn09qtOYA2X61XcmbiYx-kJEnqUOfKqZQBsA7WwSpINispUFmiUslLGGF65ZBUl7Bd7F1dZfx0TW9MPnC6IrgpDWxP7adzI/s2048/326232189_1623676334720003_924782316656946409_n.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgyEuM-oHqhM7L-o5sLahAQ817nH82KxuQvCegtv3nlSbxxzcec8nzliaDlCriUKije_osZBtYQeqN98JxyHdnNULeLSn09qtOYA2X61XcmbiYx-kJEnqUOfKqZQBsA7WwSpINispUFmiUslLGGF65ZBUl7Bd7F1dZfx0TW9MPnC6IrgpDWxP7adzI/w226-h320/326232189_1623676334720003_924782316656946409_n.jpg" width="226" /></a> </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><span style="text-align: left;">Finally, I reached the birthing center. I read a detailed article in the Orlando Sentinel (link below) which stated that births occur sporatically and that visitors are alerted to an impending birth by an announcement "dilation is eight leaves. All staff on standby."</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"> Sadly, I did not witness this event. It would have been interesting as there are supposed to be some rather uniquely disturbing birthing features. I did however, see the birthing center where the cabbages received intravenous feeding and were eventually born in the babyland delivery room. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1X-cwWtNdoQwObjo1baNUbp520LQgwVKI8ny1UkaU0OZRp9xwdsw9xUnxz6W0jG5USYgXOkibGln6qf8LALvhG3tGawQkOKrnEkRaINvvnLOM9JTaqgdObX2kurt1Bk7OnG8g126fDaE89IjCQyN65EnciJKH4xWtlHHVkwgm9-0_wiAZREz5ls7k/s1816/326255307_545536637619718_2944334368576437623_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1816" data-original-width="1816" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1X-cwWtNdoQwObjo1baNUbp520LQgwVKI8ny1UkaU0OZRp9xwdsw9xUnxz6W0jG5USYgXOkibGln6qf8LALvhG3tGawQkOKrnEkRaINvvnLOM9JTaqgdObX2kurt1Bk7OnG8g126fDaE89IjCQyN65EnciJKH4xWtlHHVkwgm9-0_wiAZREz5ls7k/s320/326255307_545536637619718_2944334368576437623_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">After passing through the delivery area, there is of course, a very large gift shop with all manner of dolls for adoption and other paraphernalia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9Fz5odfqmKkXCGyr1ePAVKYwMZgDK_kXhaI0_u21fWBxYBpEQcODngQFuMKFUDqKo10HejeBMvewfbg6o7sgwuqADTE10LGnr_9tfL-pKgCx-F4FIA0LOci2ClMr-t1k8A5le32DnHWodSPqraUXugr34xXhtDkRTz2LWut9CLARDratRrkPbmmf/s2032/326521593_1782445842140493_4009045911860631822_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2032" data-original-width="1533" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9Fz5odfqmKkXCGyr1ePAVKYwMZgDK_kXhaI0_u21fWBxYBpEQcODngQFuMKFUDqKo10HejeBMvewfbg6o7sgwuqADTE10LGnr_9tfL-pKgCx-F4FIA0LOci2ClMr-t1k8A5le32DnHWodSPqraUXugr34xXhtDkRTz2LWut9CLARDratRrkPbmmf/s320/326521593_1782445842140493_4009045911860631822_n.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The vinyl headed dolls that everyone seemed to have in the 80's were made in Hong Kong. I have read reports that state numbers <strike>sold</strike>...er...adopted are anywhere from three to sixty five million dolls. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Finally, the rather large, stunning Cleveland facility was built in 1919 and was a former medical clinic. Apparently, there have been talks to create a larger hospital for the still prolific cabbages. This one was quite adequate to satisfy my need for curiosity and nostalgia.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7mQIdkesoLzAQj0K6nQIuLpvQ7IiBxXsAwf778CqnC7Dhhbk9Dv3oGEDmMokPFfF2VgU96UKBl3qlqEN_NGpb4WesPUm30hLkot9msHM0OltBpMtwJrmKAwhRA3_XKhI8GBv4W2oMQBJke6bqDost6lewTf4KyX6-OXrDAtbmfCaHOqLwJd7vyO8/s1200/babyland-general-hospital.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1200" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiA7mQIdkesoLzAQj0K6nQIuLpvQ7IiBxXsAwf778CqnC7Dhhbk9Dv3oGEDmMokPFfF2VgU96UKBl3qlqEN_NGpb4WesPUm30hLkot9msHM0OltBpMtwJrmKAwhRA3_XKhI8GBv4W2oMQBJke6bqDost6lewTf4KyX6-OXrDAtbmfCaHOqLwJd7vyO8/w400-h300/babyland-general-hospital.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></blockquote><div><div><p>__________________________________________________________________________________ </p><p>***More details and photos are available on the internet and on Martha Nelson Thomas Doll Artist facebook page.</p><p>__________________________________________________________________________________</p><p> Full article from the Orlando Sentinel at this site - (copy & paste since I couldn't get the link to load)</p><p><u>https://www.orlandosentinel.com/news/os-xpm-1991-12-20-9112190203-story.html</u></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-67863423894439413722023-01-23T22:53:00.002-05:002023-01-23T22:53:45.480-05:00And Now, Canada Post Scams<p>I know a couple who at age fifty plus years refused to get any sort of technology...no cell phones, no computer, no digital camera, and no whatever else existed twenty five years ago or in the years since then. It was hard for me to imagine how they managed, especially in this day and age where contact with real people in businesses barely exists and automation rules. I sometimes envy these folks, now octogenarians. Their life is simple. They're happy, healthy, and unless they've fallen prey to one of "those" land line phone calls, they've probably never been scammed.</p><p>It's getting harder and harder to negotiate past the criminal element. Each day, there's a new way criminals either appeal to people's emotions, create fake but real looking letterhead, and the latest, fake websites so that you need to be super careful who you are contacting. My best advice is, <b>don't respond to anything no matter how official it looks. </b>On the phone, hang up. Canada Revenue and banks don't phone you. If there's something in your email (phishing), delete. Most places don't contact you this way either. Be diligent and, sadly, suspicious of everything.</p><p>So here's my latest. We've been pretty wise to most of these scams thus far. Recently, I was away on a trip but had been expecting a package. I forgot to put a temporary stop on my mail at the post office. I received a text message (smishing). It appeared as follows.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLdWSGlXotzRw_ihe5L3LpCNF_T_ZbAyAfdQ7J9hY-bGRDCFadmIzq4CckJhINCCxLcb9_i1V08D1iQjV55YUvyj76-4t9iv5KYIYfq7FbU6Y1qjHFCSWTkMiYye8d4HvfQ_H2a6a6S62sEl1SoPebOxtpQd0Kc_5-HGUGbCJybxSVdzOtqWydznD/s960/326481804_483051700664643_6496345880796111200_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="960" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmLdWSGlXotzRw_ihe5L3LpCNF_T_ZbAyAfdQ7J9hY-bGRDCFadmIzq4CckJhINCCxLcb9_i1V08D1iQjV55YUvyj76-4t9iv5KYIYfq7FbU6Y1qjHFCSWTkMiYye8d4HvfQ_H2a6a6S62sEl1SoPebOxtpQd0Kc_5-HGUGbCJybxSVdzOtqWydznD/s320/326481804_483051700664643_6496345880796111200_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p><span style="color: #444444;">I</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444;"> <span style="text-align: left;">wasn't thinking and was caught by surprise so I didn't look carefully at the phone number. I clicked on the form, and it was quite detailed and official looking with Canada Post letterhead, stating that they couldn't leave a parcel in a secure location, so I had options of other dates for delivery. I did not fill out the attached form. I was wary, especially when it offered optional Sunday delivery dates for the package with a required fee. On the other hand, I was expecting a package and was hoping it wouldn't be lost or returned. I phoned my local post office but received no answer so I left a message.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-align: left;">Fortunately, s</span><span style="text-align: left;">omeone returned my call and told me that they NEVER send text messages or emails regarding any postal service, nor do they ever charge extra for delivery. This was a scam intended to get access to my info or credit card. </span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="text-align: left;">So, did all this cost me anything? Yes, it certainly did. Since I was out of the country and panicked about a potential scam or a disappearing parcel, I had to use my roaming fees to make several phone calls to sort things out with my local post office. First day, no response to any calls. Day two, got an answering machine and left messages on two occasions. Day three, I noticed three missed calls and a phone message which I listened to. Total, $36. That, plus stopping my mail for a week to ensure that it's all secure, $26. Another lesson learned, priceless.</span></span></span></div><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">___________________________________________________________________________________</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;"><u>Previous Scam Blogs</u></span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">***Land line phone calls - see blogs April 18, 2015, "Warning! Scam Alert", and also May 17, 2015</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">***email scams - see also Jan. 11, 2017 "Be Aware...More Scams" </span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">___________________________________________________________________________________</span></p><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">*** <span color="inherit" style="background-color: white;">Smishing and phishing? <u>Phishing</u> - Cyber criminals send fraudulent emails that seek to trick the recipient into clicking on a malicious link. <u>Smishing</u> uses text messages instead of email. Cybercriminals try to steal your personal data, trick you into giving out credit card info, and commit fraud or other cyber crimes.</span></span></p><div aria-controls="exacc_j5XJY_qJHoO1qtsP0pG6qAw_6" aria-expanded="true" aria-labelledby="exacc_j5XJY_qJHoO1qtsP0pG6qAw_5" class="wWOJcd" jsaction="AWEk5c" jsname="bVEB4e" role="button" style="align-items: center; background-color: white; color: #202124; cursor: pointer; display: flex; max-height: none; min-height: 0px; outline: 0px; position: relative; width: 652px;" tabindex="0"><div class="r21Kzd" data-hveid="CDIQAQ" data-ved="2ahUKEwi6jfPyqtT8AhWDmmoFHdKIDsUQuk56BAgyEAE" jsname="K8Pnod" style="height: 43px; left: 0px; position: absolute; top: 0px; visibility: hidden; width: 652px;"></div></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-3877338353643868932023-01-03T18:08:00.003-05:002023-01-09T10:28:50.148-05:00Meatballs, Wherefore Art Thou?<p>It's interesting how for many people, their childhood memories centre around food. Whether they were special event meals, holiday fare, or memorable foods mom or grandma cooked. I too have fond childhood memories of a particular mealtime. </p><p>When I was about seven years old we moved from a shack in northern Ontario, to a series of rooms and flats in the big city. Both my parents worked. Back then, eating lunch at school was not a thing. You went somewhere, anywhere. Sometimes, as a treat I was allowed to go to Morris' Grocery Store on the corner of Clinton Street. I'd ask for a bun and he'd put the 5 cents "on the bill", to be paid by my parents later. Once a month or so, mom and dad would spring for a lunch counter meal near my school and I'd get fish and chips wrapped in newspaper. Even now, I can almost smell the wonderful intermingled aroma of fish, chips, and newsprint. I was a young child, but fears for safety did not seem to be an issue back then. </p><p>My dad often worked shifts, so generally, I was able to come home for lunch. He usually prepared a Kraft singles cheese sandwich, or Campbell's soup (mushroom, chicken noodle or tomato). From time to time there was vegetable soup, but I hated those weird little white and orange cubes floating in what looked like red grease. The peas were identifiable, nothing else was. </p><p>It was very special being able to spend even a short time alone with dad each day. As strange as it sounds, we occasionally watched soap operas (they were 15 min. episodes back then) or cartoons. Other times, we assembled something with Minibrix or grew sea monkeys on the kitchen table. There was not much time, but we made the best of it.</p><p>On very rare occasions, dad had a day off and made one of our all time favourite foods...rice and canned Puritan meatballs. This particular meal took a little longer to prepare and was also a go-to camping lunch. I recall that the cans were a bit larger back then, nonetheless, dad and I polished one off by ourselves. On our camping trips, there was magically enough for all three of us to eat. It may have had something to do with my mom's insistence on vegetables and the addition of a very delicious salad to complement the meal. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQvJoRNB4m-vpNg0MMpL1k_VrZEsUEFek4Q2DXVstFt4wJXlCCN1pG9Dmm1h19-zr55YH5MRHrxN9TYL816RQ4CQkx25XnZe91WkjTVoX86WCvY2RcnELGCt48_TEf4CUwI3qpxqyfqJDw6AEDnGCHbBn6rTSiwVIzBDY3Uw06FAMy5Se6YwEa3uM/s512/meatballs.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="512" data-original-width="512" height="140" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbQvJoRNB4m-vpNg0MMpL1k_VrZEsUEFek4Q2DXVstFt4wJXlCCN1pG9Dmm1h19-zr55YH5MRHrxN9TYL816RQ4CQkx25XnZe91WkjTVoX86WCvY2RcnELGCt48_TEf4CUwI3qpxqyfqJDw6AEDnGCHbBn6rTSiwVIzBDY3Uw06FAMy5Se6YwEa3uM/w185-h140/meatballs.webp" width="185" /></a></div><p></p><p>I had totally forgotten about rice and meatballs until my stepmom asked about them some months prior to dad's death. She wondered why he kept talking about rice and meatballs and why, although her homemade meatballs were fantastic, dad kept insisting they weren't the same. </p><p>"The same as what?" she would ask.</p><p>I explained about the canned meatballs as best I could.</p><p>During his final months, we brought dad to our house from time to time. I found, and sometimes made him rice and canned meatballs. His face lit up. I'm not certain whether this processed food was really that delicious to him, or whether it just triggered some wonderful memories of years gone by.</p><p></p>I had forgotten about canned meatballs until I spotted a familiar looking tin with a not so familiar logo at our local Giant Tiger. Cordon Bleu? Was my memory that poor? Despite the exorbitant price, nostalgia made me want to pick up a can and try them. I did, and the taste was as fantastic as I had remembered. (Of course, these would not be to everyone's taste. I do hear some refrains of "yuck" as people are reading this). My friend Google told me that the Puritan company had been bought out at some point. This explained the only slightly different looking label.<div><br /></div><div>I decided to purchase another can to keep on hand for myself for use when hubby would insist on eating some of his own favourite Fear Factor foods. I zipped over to GT and noticed that there were about a dozen cans on their sell-off shelf. Although I wondered why, I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Then, not wanting to be greedy, I picked up only two of the 1950's priced delicacies. Mistake. <p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2hZrEhoR8QQG4K-4qEj4yvxBKN0Ubo1IkspWTpMPNw95Ow_gS-vwh_9lAVrAnN-XUu29ki7iZENeHyvoUqqmbSej5ANEttG2nVo_oEigtockDo9s6eb86f46-GozHewIwu7JNvBFEM5TUyyY3jMTUlgX0oDV0ivK5CbViu948sT2aPm_H1DaGMT3/s600/meatballs.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="450" height="175" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjd2hZrEhoR8QQG4K-4qEj4yvxBKN0Ubo1IkspWTpMPNw95Ow_gS-vwh_9lAVrAnN-XUu29ki7iZENeHyvoUqqmbSej5ANEttG2nVo_oEigtockDo9s6eb86f46-GozHewIwu7JNvBFEM5TUyyY3jMTUlgX0oDV0ivK5CbViu948sT2aPm_H1DaGMT3/w120-h175/meatballs.jpg" width="120" /></a></div>Imagine my surprise and dismay, when weeks later and ready to replenish my pantry stock, I couldn't find a single meatball tin at any store. I texted a photo to my friend asking her to watch for these meatballs. Within the hour, she sent me a picture which her niece had messaged...same can, same request. Wow, a kindred meatball spirit! She too had searched everywhere. Were they discontinued? Were they too expensive that people didn't buy them? Suddenly, I felt a huge loss.<p></p><p>The good news is that we have since located the meatballs at Walmart. The price is slightly lower than it had been. Possibly the newer cans have shrunk like so many other products nowadays. </p><p><br /></p><p>Alas, canned meatballs live on! Yayyy... </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_el-Hi28xxLRALPEfu5tyiL88t7H5JQfxWqqdjFBJRkLuU8Q_ctcO1iwSKDIFNvTaueoyXrB1sENfM2r9BC1M4le3egBkYW6vKfV9baG1Z0UnmcCcr54N5z2dLVm_2JxZt3cRRwIN2h5x0_wIjUPrK2fqhloA8pP6dAM-cDUk_BGZG-pYJLND2hiV/s2048/323320048_863142988338903_853341713501619594_n.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="922" height="347" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_el-Hi28xxLRALPEfu5tyiL88t7H5JQfxWqqdjFBJRkLuU8Q_ctcO1iwSKDIFNvTaueoyXrB1sENfM2r9BC1M4le3egBkYW6vKfV9baG1Z0UnmcCcr54N5z2dLVm_2JxZt3cRRwIN2h5x0_wIjUPrK2fqhloA8pP6dAM-cDUk_BGZG-pYJLND2hiV/w184-h347/323320048_863142988338903_853341713501619594_n.jpg" width="184" /></a></div><p>But wait. Do I detect Puritan products on the same shelf?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkv_5w_mObzXnYUQBEbROP5j3YxmsIK0M75wwq0UDHZq7cpTU1r0o-kiw1EaTpgw6cUWKWKwHx6zZRZ_ql0fwCZLrHTl3xI3wU03SHTD281K9i_Lkbqz5myfIH1bCVvsZfPbcS0X-YrTq9ZZ6zGW8YTKTd7CypZK1ntwxRQ40eUHiGTah3-eDr-_O/s2048/324030300_8827540570652831_7206913440849335581_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="922" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDkv_5w_mObzXnYUQBEbROP5j3YxmsIK0M75wwq0UDHZq7cpTU1r0o-kiw1EaTpgw6cUWKWKwHx6zZRZ_ql0fwCZLrHTl3xI3wU03SHTD281K9i_Lkbqz5myfIH1bCVvsZfPbcS0X-YrTq9ZZ6zGW8YTKTd7CypZK1ntwxRQ40eUHiGTah3-eDr-_O/w184-h300/324030300_8827540570652831_7206913440849335581_n.jpg" width="184" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Anyone addicted to Puritan corned beef hash in a can?</div><div> __________________________________________________________________________</div><div><br /></div><div>*** NOTE - Just to be clear, although delicious and convenient, these meatballs are far from a good food option. I am not promoting them. They contain a fair bit of fat and a ridiculous amount of sodium.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">______________________________________________________________________________ </div></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-35987859180599395512023-01-01T15:32:00.002-05:002023-01-26T09:24:48.949-05:00Fitted Sheet Nightmares Solved<p><span style="font-size: medium;">There's an old Mennonite expression which I may have used in previous blogs. It seems very fitting for so many situations, but now, I find it especially useful for this "fitting" blog. It goes, as follows...</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDwcT-JmLfGONxvrPIgmVV4kmCKxpQQ0vbR7ioDcPV6sC8-i3ipkSO_BPPEI7wkATyrLYQgCplb4---_is2qRsVL7MC8kD0gc5paDDgLSmvcX023KAyDWDRzbHpIf_wNKdAKsA2uVSMTvpsWttf7aI2uUuS_zh2bEqVn9p0XbNh1HTasY-riQdYcp/s500/shmart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="375" data-original-width="500" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisDwcT-JmLfGONxvrPIgmVV4kmCKxpQQ0vbR7ioDcPV6sC8-i3ipkSO_BPPEI7wkATyrLYQgCplb4---_is2qRsVL7MC8kD0gc5paDDgLSmvcX023KAyDWDRzbHpIf_wNKdAKsA2uVSMTvpsWttf7aI2uUuS_zh2bEqVn9p0XbNh1HTasY-riQdYcp/s320/shmart.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span>At some point in my adult life, I had a vision. I saw myself </span><span>re</span><span>laxing in my large, well appointed bed, </span><span>wearing shiny silk pajamas, surrounded by pouffy satin pillows, and lying on a thousand thread count, soft white sheets. Perhaps I've seen too many Hollywood movies.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I got as far as purchasing the white sheets. Two sets were all I needed. Three hundred thread count was all I could afford. Actually, one set was all I really required until I read that it's not good for the sheets to be washed and put directly back on the bed. Google wisdom </span><span>likened the care and washing of sheets to some kind of pet bath ritual. </span><span>They need to fluff up, stretch themselves, air out, and be left to breathe prior to any further attention, and of course, keep them off the bed at all costs. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I feel somewhat embarrassed even mentioning the two major sheet problems which have irritated me over the years. Both have to do with (drum roll)...the dreaded fitted bed sheets.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">One thing which seems to plague not just me, is </span><span style="font-size: medium;">the age old problem of how to fold fitted sheets so that they are small enough to go back to the size they were when purchased. It's been suggested that a whole set could be washed and placed inside a pillow case after folding. Great idea. Good luck with that. I have half way managed it. A bonus is that it hides the fact that I can't fold the fitted sheets properly. Youtube videos are wonderful, helpful things aren't they? I must confess, try as I might, I will never measure up to Marie Kondo and I no longer care. </span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLZDK0G36-HfE8L_lz0R3_G6l9P9VvjO0-LVZnk5GleqwLr5GggWLx7GW7YWcasBrO4pWEcbiI8rOfZ2bWwc0E9Mf8X2nmZ4jUf8nsi85y_vi_NsvyMTGXplu4ICp0OpgnnxtOWlxnoU4hWsCgZR7iytcErsAzcrDkLanapDRu3CjsG2DYyLO_7tp/s3000/ehqlbz8cwf141.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOLZDK0G36-HfE8L_lz0R3_G6l9P9VvjO0-LVZnk5GleqwLr5GggWLx7GW7YWcasBrO4pWEcbiI8rOfZ2bWwc0E9Mf8X2nmZ4jUf8nsi85y_vi_NsvyMTGXplu4ICp0OpgnnxtOWlxnoU4hWsCgZR7iytcErsAzcrDkLanapDRu3CjsG2DYyLO_7tp/s320/ehqlbz8cwf141.webp" width="320" /></span></a></div><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I am happy to announce that in my advanced years, I have finally solved the other issue. I am writing it in this blog because I know that if I excitedly shared the secret to my success on </span><span>Facebook, someone (and we all know at least one person), would undoubtedly say, "You didn't know that? I learned it when I was eight years old." </span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>So here's my confession. I have always had an issue when putting sheets on the bed. I would pull and stretch and tug ad infinitum and invariably, end up with the fitted sheet on sideways and not fitting at all. Pools of perspiration would form at the nape of my neck. Then I'd remove it, (the sheet and the perspiration),</span> start again, only to have it still...sideways. Oh eventually, I'd get it turned the right way around. Problem was always the same. I could never tell which was the narrower top or bottom at first glance. Someone suggested putting a colourful thread or a button at one end, but really? Is that a thing people do? Besides, since I'm old and forgetful, that would still have me wondering if I had the correct narrow end or did I sew that onto the wider part.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Last year around Christmas, I decided I'd had enough of boring white sheets so I made a decision to opt for something a little more fun, child-like, and possibly seasonal. Besides that, I wanted a warmer flannel option for the winter months. It was then that I made a most remarkable discovery. If you get sheets with a pattern that can only go one way, you will always know which end of the sheet goes up. Clearly, little trucks and tiny gnomes (and now penguins that match my pajamas) can only go in one direction. This to me was a major light bulb moment and resolved an issue even greater than the fitted folding sheet dilemma.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3P843RiFc1CQOamagx9jj0ef4g00gvjqVTvndxSOON2XvUK_qxdGrJpjc1PtHzsJGsrZBQy7AUs2CHHxqr369ZVTBjqKD6y02dKsbr-7CAnwX-bgP5vyV1zIex7TkSosIdohQ9DgKTRa7uWtwIY1HqQu6Rutn7IUaRu88KgQLLlGckZlKb96hgt6/s2048/322711594_695639435512163_425090695739432679_n.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="922" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE3P843RiFc1CQOamagx9jj0ef4g00gvjqVTvndxSOON2XvUK_qxdGrJpjc1PtHzsJGsrZBQy7AUs2CHHxqr369ZVTBjqKD6y02dKsbr-7CAnwX-bgP5vyV1zIex7TkSosIdohQ9DgKTRa7uWtwIY1HqQu6Rutn7IUaRu88KgQLLlGckZlKb96hgt6/w229-h320/322711594_695639435512163_425090695739432679_n.jpg" width="229" /></span></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcolHy7yRlNMkrjoW-R8AHsR_qqQNP_EAvjdrOr24VQ9zY5rSunynXLIOmRoFq9n9ahqeazyKFBrQi2hUVxpmgfqFyT8TExW42VS2qRcM5p8gnnf_6Y2E1OVD20_9GoFlkh-WjpRlvpaxc3lS54J0LrIOyTVPW46LIYhpsgpOYMjxi79jJseci7k2/s2048/322717152_690311302483048_3856678474608543911_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="922" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFcolHy7yRlNMkrjoW-R8AHsR_qqQNP_EAvjdrOr24VQ9zY5rSunynXLIOmRoFq9n9ahqeazyKFBrQi2hUVxpmgfqFyT8TExW42VS2qRcM5p8gnnf_6Y2E1OVD20_9GoFlkh-WjpRlvpaxc3lS54J0LrIOyTVPW46LIYhpsgpOYMjxi79jJseci7k2/w237-h320/322717152_690311302483048_3856678474608543911_n.jpg" width="237" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span>I realize that little trucks and tiny gnomes aren't everyone's taste. However, this ingenious discovery can surely translate to <strike>ugly</strike> flowers, miscellaneous wildlife, seashells, and stripes.</span></span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>On a final note, an irrelevant </span><span>statistic I found in a computer article is that people don't wash their sheets nearly often enough (at least once a week). I can certainly sympathize with sheet changing procrastinators if they have to go through calorie burning calisthenics just to get their beds made, and their clean sheets refolded.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>________________________________________________________________________</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>***Note - Just found this on facebook for those who continue to struggle. Seems easy enough...not.</span></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zAbmLd9__RLsTnH4mDvm2yYMr5q-u0xtw2C4KPy1KekFAKwECnAkx6u7M9IdeNC9le_IDoqe4aa6zOxY9ecGjXg7TDvlgLqfkCHyTcSYbXQEDblDaAd9Bw0AkKjKMM6vyN_mejHB6bXvxdE6zovsUtK1vs4IOWQIpMsSaXR0rjs_bcALbTm9iOTl/s960/325392712_1460946300980734_6877560862043827211_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="928" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1zAbmLd9__RLsTnH4mDvm2yYMr5q-u0xtw2C4KPy1KekFAKwECnAkx6u7M9IdeNC9le_IDoqe4aa6zOxY9ecGjXg7TDvlgLqfkCHyTcSYbXQEDblDaAd9Bw0AkKjKMM6vyN_mejHB6bXvxdE6zovsUtK1vs4IOWQIpMsSaXR0rjs_bcALbTm9iOTl/s320/325392712_1460946300980734_6877560862043827211_n.jpg" width="309" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /><span><br /></span></span><p></p>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-39058128463495877682022-02-25T16:58:00.002-05:002022-02-25T16:58:25.107-05:00Une Petite Chaise Bleue <p><span style="font-size: medium;">Soooo my French title is a bit pretentious but the story isn't. This is a tale of ...</span></p><p><u style="font-size: large;"><b> A</b></u><b style="font-size: large;"><u> LITTLE BLUE CHAIR</u></b></p><span style="font-size: medium;">Once upon a time, there was a cute little blue chair that belonged to a cute little child. It got sat on, dragged around, climbed on, dinged, nicked, and played with. Eventually, the owner outgrew his little blue chair and the sad little chair got tossed unceremoniously onto mom and dad's weekly garbage pile. Poor little blue chair, all alone and sitting on the curb.</span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnXYOnoafsESGyFZVr1RUYHTfDnQ5ShLm3UAZZC2fGdgMPg60Qd4TCAbaqfIJ4bW1x0wWzCjjRP41jNmri4zsqwudrKpdeTsgZAnS5X_G8VnQU-Gb-KhTdmyXMIZ3sQHQ1S7BOFvsMQiOv-yC9dk4IeDdUIqpf6RIpILNWAeWIOwQxtXZFUGrDHeyR=s2015" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1242" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnXYOnoafsESGyFZVr1RUYHTfDnQ5ShLm3UAZZC2fGdgMPg60Qd4TCAbaqfIJ4bW1x0wWzCjjRP41jNmri4zsqwudrKpdeTsgZAnS5X_G8VnQU-Gb-KhTdmyXMIZ3sQHQ1S7BOFvsMQiOv-yC9dk4IeDdUIqpf6RIpILNWAeWIOwQxtXZFUGrDHeyR=w198-h320" width="198" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">A nice lady who was out walking her dog spotted the little chair. This little chair is too cute to be dumped into the monstrous, groaning, squealing, trash truck she thought. She had her dog leash in one hand, but was able to pick up the little chair in her other hand and carry it to her nice, warm home.</span><p></p><p></p><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The nice lady went to her friend for help. "Can you paint this little chair and make it cute and happy again?" she asked.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> ______________________________________________</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">Her friend loved to paint and agreed to try to help. </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">First, she gave the chair a nice bath. Then, she sanded, filled holes and cracks, and sanded again. Blue dust flew all around. Finally, she got a cloth and wiped off all the dust.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">The chair was ready, but ready for what?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">It needed some fresh, bright coats of white paint. The chair looked sparkly and new.</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguPVg3xCFjtNuL0Kba5YgEBc-JimI_DCpfSp0dZ0SLWGCFW8xmnf2R6aQ20CaUxl_ZqCJQ5QN2OdHYlCbQ2dz_QXq9LNIVY3bEkJFHVOdX8gSKph0lDGH8uUwNzA7PDz3W9oEdjOtQ0h0DvLuK3FHwCcZ6oUUcUDQbKFV2u5jKAXP0t_TUg_baLuaH=s960" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="559" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEguPVg3xCFjtNuL0Kba5YgEBc-JimI_DCpfSp0dZ0SLWGCFW8xmnf2R6aQ20CaUxl_ZqCJQ5QN2OdHYlCbQ2dz_QXq9LNIVY3bEkJFHVOdX8gSKph0lDGH8uUwNzA7PDz3W9oEdjOtQ0h0DvLuK3FHwCcZ6oUUcUDQbKFV2u5jKAXP0t_TUg_baLuaH=w186-h320" width="186" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Next, the friend had to think and think. What would make the small chair, and a possible new small owner happy and not afraid? Should she paint trucks, or fish, or storybook characters?</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">"I know," she said. "The little chair needs some bright colours and cute animals painted on it."</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: large;">Since it was a very little chair, it was difficult to make tiny animals with paint. She tried using a pencil, but it left ugly marks, and she didn't like how the chair was starting to look when she added paint. It deserved a lot more thought, love, and detail.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXax89TAVSw_9ULDr7msxHCXSMOCS9vC4zt1vBii-UEc6-zgLVB0tGkZYF5bKsSEcK1tYFHcfIUsD944-_j5jnYKV8_-Z4HiN5X3QkYbz7LXcbC_HOXyQaOhU61m_bL3bRJZrAv0iT2tKDhBWqoqcwwupLXMq8GA1hrDnl2V2KFPEISJBnqyk9urZw=s1420" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1420" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhXax89TAVSw_9ULDr7msxHCXSMOCS9vC4zt1vBii-UEc6-zgLVB0tGkZYF5bKsSEcK1tYFHcfIUsD944-_j5jnYKV8_-Z4HiN5X3QkYbz7LXcbC_HOXyQaOhU61m_bL3bRJZrAv0iT2tKDhBWqoqcwwupLXMq8GA1hrDnl2V2KFPEISJBnqyk9urZw=w144-h320" width="144" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Once again, the tiny chair got re-painted white. This time, the friend decided to make a pattern, or template for the chair seat. She used a square of construction paper and drew each animal. Then she cut and taped, moved them around, and reassembled until she was satisfied with their size and placement. This was a better idea.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiMI1jGFIkpVxX4HNU8xLd3Z9zEe7sa27YjCyfslQSNcs-GkDXID24HSo_po_pShOfSBlDnW-J0VULoLa-zZOLR4lhMVKk2JyLT1RTXrc-RU9EWo5x_edgGj0b1qk5taAiZ_E3EYbTWgEQvGgfmJYo4-rQJydNMx-rxlaYO6_P4ndLImWrrw_SE5Ii=s600" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="536" data-original-width="600" height="286" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgiMI1jGFIkpVxX4HNU8xLd3Z9zEe7sa27YjCyfslQSNcs-GkDXID24HSo_po_pShOfSBlDnW-J0VULoLa-zZOLR4lhMVKk2JyLT1RTXrc-RU9EWo5x_edgGj0b1qk5taAiZ_E3EYbTWgEQvGgfmJYo4-rQJydNMx-rxlaYO6_P4ndLImWrrw_SE5Ii=w320-h286" width="320" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br />After painting the background, she used erasable charcoal to draw the animals onto the seat.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2CEyl0hjy5QcffqDFeNSJ2iyurv3L6aUw8032c8dpMjwDMFuPbxODqzEvt3VzSFT6ytAFDDzQtG1sKqbIO6UayMZFjhifw17iIkBSU2AkFPFDY0iUGd4VNgwJBQp69kRH_ixHjRVQZiJB1DBFlzLb5_iJYJUhgeQtfAf9agbXv414I4Oz7qyQu_5_=s960" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="849" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi2CEyl0hjy5QcffqDFeNSJ2iyurv3L6aUw8032c8dpMjwDMFuPbxODqzEvt3VzSFT6ytAFDDzQtG1sKqbIO6UayMZFjhifw17iIkBSU2AkFPFDY0iUGd4VNgwJBQp69kRH_ixHjRVQZiJB1DBFlzLb5_iJYJUhgeQtfAf9agbXv414I4Oz7qyQu_5_=s320" width="283" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">When she was satisfied with her drawing, it came time to paint and add a few details. It took bright lights, a steady hand, and lots of patience to get all the animals the way she wanted them to look, but soon the chair was finished. With a quick protective gloss coat of fixative, the chair became bright and shiny and new.</span><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8aTUYqWhWF-CpQVAQmR-nKRst_YGHofTqIfiZZof70H19mwiSpRBEN-dC7kOAtNs9KH8_OiI2CYYy8lSMMSunMCIr_Ax9Gabi0Qx9EFeAwDD4Y8FYVTnDB5Abx-7c9UWh3M2UxpqQzfEnSvFFcfd1mtMWmIcCwar62exPPKUqRh1ZOLesf1SukJKg=s1420" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1420" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh8aTUYqWhWF-CpQVAQmR-nKRst_YGHofTqIfiZZof70H19mwiSpRBEN-dC7kOAtNs9KH8_OiI2CYYy8lSMMSunMCIr_Ax9Gabi0Qx9EFeAwDD4Y8FYVTnDB5Abx-7c9UWh3M2UxpqQzfEnSvFFcfd1mtMWmIcCwar62exPPKUqRh1ZOLesf1SukJKg=w180-h400" width="180" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"> ______________________________________</span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-size: medium;">When the chair was finished, the nice lady came to pick it up from her friend. She took it to her little grandson's house where there was a beautiful quilt that coincidentally matched the animals on the chair. The little chair had a new home and had a cute, new little owner. Everyone was happy.</span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWOX3PGroYNTDuxmw1CODp8p5uv_qCYJwA6zvKxqr4pvffY1eXOMFwP5HwLn0tD1ZUxFhWPw6bQxH37yj76DPzf6H3SXi7Q3MC11q7tyeH1rqK2BsAkIB61-s6smS7F47jUkIW1kutvO9mIqbjCkJ3bW-ylQ_zj3qoYpVL8IacFLWY2MxhwM26dwmG=s1537" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1537" data-original-width="1080" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhWOX3PGroYNTDuxmw1CODp8p5uv_qCYJwA6zvKxqr4pvffY1eXOMFwP5HwLn0tD1ZUxFhWPw6bQxH37yj76DPzf6H3SXi7Q3MC11q7tyeH1rqK2BsAkIB61-s6smS7F47jUkIW1kutvO9mIqbjCkJ3bW-ylQ_zj3qoYpVL8IacFLWY2MxhwM26dwmG=w281-h400" width="281" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-34169704581862123922022-02-17T11:50:00.002-05:002022-02-23T11:22:53.514-05:00Aging Ain't For Sissies<p><i><span style="font-size: medium;"> <b>Found this blog along with about a hundred others that I started last year but didn't finish or publish. It's from October 2021. Thankfully, all is well with my leg now. I haven't laughed nearly enough these days, although the memory of this incident has helped.</b></span></i></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">My blogs might be on restart mode. We'll see how this goes. Gone are the days of trip info and celebrations. I don't want to write about bad news, the virus with which some people seem to be obsessed, the latest in trivia, sports teams, or movie stars. I also don't want to make this depressing. I hugely admire "older" female writers like Loretta Laroche and the now deceased Erma Bombeck. In fact, I once took a writing course and told the instructor that I enjoyed the writing style of these women. He looked down his nose at me and proceeded to tell the class about his science fiction, fantasy, vampire, and alien novel which he had completed and was trying to get published.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I knew that laughing is a good tonic (an old person term to be sure). I am going to try to paint some pictures with words describing events in my life. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> I've always had issues with focus...this is nothing new. I've been called a squirrel more than once, although I think the word more likely comes from distracted puppies who are busy, but then get distracted when they see a squirrel.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Other than things like going down the downstairs to the freezer three times to get butter, and resurfacing from aforementioned basement on each occasion with clean laundry, garbage, and soft drinks, but no butter, I have all the usual aches and pains, a little Sunday to Saturday weekly pill suitcase, and memory farts that most "older" adults develop.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> Yesterday, my moans, groans, and creaking bones, weren't the only sounds emanating from me. I did something which caused me to laugh so hard, I forgot about all my aches and pains.</span></p><p><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Part 1</span></u></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I have some pulled tendons and a tear in the meniscus in my right leg. Add that to the moderate to severe arthritic knee and OUCH. I've gone to physio...fun. Armed with a wad of exercise sheets that I've been attempting regularly, plus icing my leg each day, there has resulted in some improvement. Yesterday morning, after icing my leg, I was feeling a tad chilly and crawled back under my covers. Since I was wide awake, I decided to use my time wisely and pulled out my empty boxes to sort my pills into the appropriate days of the week. I placed them on my nightstand.</span></p><p><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Part 2</span></u></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As I neared the end of my sorting and organizing from bed, I dropped a pill...on the floor. Annoyed, I hung my head and torso down the side of the bed, being careful not to uncover my cold legs...an odd angle but it worked. I located aforementioned errant pill just under the wooden bed frame, picked it up, and proceeded to tell my upper body to get back onto the bed. As much as I told my body to do this, it refused to budge.</span></p><p><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Part 3</span></u></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I tried lifting myself by pushing on the bed frame, and I attempted pulling myself onto the nightstand, but it was all in vain. I was left with the only option I could think of...crawl out of bed, onto the floor. I put my palms on the floor and walk myself forward, being careful not to further injure my leg. As I did this, my pajama bottoms decided they wanted for the most part, to stay in bed without me. I started to laugh and laugh at the absurdity of it all.</span></p><p><u><span style="font-size: medium;">Part 4</span></u></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">As I landed on the floor and turned myself over, still unsure how I was going to get back up, the words from the old commercial, "I've fallen and I can't get up" were ringing in my ears. My pants were around my ankles, I was grabbing for anything that could pull me up, and hubby walked into the room. Without batting an eye at the contorted half clad mess on the floor, he asked, "Are you doing your exercises?"</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I laughed and laughed for the next five minutes. He must have thought I was insane. Nonetheless, as it often is, the day was much better after that. </span></p><p><br /></p>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-14973963951726222792022-02-16T13:07:00.004-05:002022-03-08T13:25:31.302-05:00 Stuff, Nonsense, and Thoughts on Puzzles.<p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm not one to tar every feather with the same brush or however the saying goes. I must confess though, having experienced a lot of adventures, worked at many jobs, and tasted innumerable exotic foods, I'm pretty set in my ways about some, but not all things. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I'm at an age where I might say, "Why should I go to a restaurant and order frog's legs, when in fact I know I prefer chicken?" By the way, only people who haven't eaten frog's legs say that they taste just like chicken. That's like claiming lobster is exactly like eating liver or vice versa. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>I can also tell you there are certain experiences which I didn't like the first time,</span> and don't need to do again, but<i><b> that's another blog topic.</b></i></span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I enjoy word puzzles, crosswords, and the like. In the more recent technological years, Candy Crush was the rage and now, I am playing Wordle along with the rest of the planet (except for Homer Simpson) it seems. <i><b>***(found on facebook but don't know who owns it to give credit)</b></i></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY6ZhWayv9v1m8dtWaB9HPNPfS0Gv5EujOgXhjhmY0BBjAnucmxh-id-vA6QUTWw7plAgdXMRlBqbVOKLLYrYbM10j-eVYZz1_gnOFIsK90ES-F0Cx4Ir2SR5dRYCXp0S70ZzdxwqoCbqLYxLHRd_wTDlrS0ud_rOV9ynHNEOBYkXxsvpYQJjXW_Li=s1080" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1011" data-original-width="1080" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjY6ZhWayv9v1m8dtWaB9HPNPfS0Gv5EujOgXhjhmY0BBjAnucmxh-id-vA6QUTWw7plAgdXMRlBqbVOKLLYrYbM10j-eVYZz1_gnOFIsK90ES-F0Cx4Ir2SR5dRYCXp0S70ZzdxwqoCbqLYxLHRd_wTDlrS0ud_rOV9ynHNEOBYkXxsvpYQJjXW_Li=s320" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">As with so many things in the age of technology, I kind of miss the hands on experiences. I tried and disliked books on tablets. I'd rather have a bookshelf rife with paperbacks that I may or may not finish reading before the big dirt nap.</span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span>Recently, I retrieved a jigsaw puzzle while decluttering my office. Well, this could be ok to work on from time to time I thought to myself. How hard can it be? It's tangible and I can putter at my own speed. Besides, my brain needs all the stimulation it can get these days. </span> <b>***(</b><i><b>note - need to try to think to myself more often)</b></i></span></p><p><u style="font-size: x-large;"><b>THE PROCESS</b></u></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAY ONE</b> - I proceeded to dump all 500 pieces onto our coffee table and examined the box. First, I noted that there was a huge "Art Gallery" banner across the top which covered some essential picture parts. How annoying. Besides that, none of the pieces looked like the colours on the box. In fact, they all looked like brown cardboard. Oops. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> After spending half an hour flipping them all the right way around, I was done for the day. Jigsaws are exhausting.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAY TWO</b> - I spent a brief time sorting by colour and potential buildings, bridges, people, water, trees, and so on. Time for another rest.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLfJ6cFJ9bEMET7vtwAKDQhWO1sm15lwdpPivMy5Cmo3zj7ANSdyOPcsJHxtL16gNOWeLl2HmFyLT2SYOOEq4XNy9i2fCfxc-qx981sXnRBoiBrSDCUgiFo2Yfp7vORMPFWwFbUsyg1leydgR_cEh0tywyc8O6AGHLvJXBnx0eznbxXy8lHrl5bZKn=s960" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="696" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjLfJ6cFJ9bEMET7vtwAKDQhWO1sm15lwdpPivMy5Cmo3zj7ANSdyOPcsJHxtL16gNOWeLl2HmFyLT2SYOOEq4XNy9i2fCfxc-qx981sXnRBoiBrSDCUgiFo2Yfp7vORMPFWwFbUsyg1leydgR_cEh0tywyc8O6AGHLvJXBnx0eznbxXy8lHrl5bZKn=s320" width="232" /></a></div><p></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAY THREE</b> - Fun. I found some cute little pictures that looked like parts of people and animals and proceeded to assemble those. Then, I automatically started pulling all the flat edged pieces out of the mix, piling them around the edges of the table. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> At this point, the memories started flooding back. I remembered all the reasons I hated jigsaw puzzles and have avoided them over the years. It wasn't that I had to turn all the pieces over before beginning. It also wasn't that many of the shapes look the same and no amount of fist pounding gets them to fit into places where they don't belong. The truth was more complex. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I remember attempting, and abandoning a few of these with my parents when I was a kid. I was always excited and eager to get started. Then came the first blow. Dad would inform me I had to help make the frame with all the side flat pieces first, before filling in the middle. Ugh...I hated that and usually walked away. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTEwWu2N_XDAwm9srlVYDmoUdMl4HgctjS9YEplEjNnTQVvvZHvTuXzCAfOKe1TOksGDh1BX2zWKlDFJ5B699xetBar_9XzsaagkObiWBS2uWYuox4Fp9WFaYUhm-V6xThU6ERRvtEHE2XbAGjYUZybr5ih0tCS1y8Fm_9xc7azQN6vxZcGEF8LEaI=s450" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="450" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiTEwWu2N_XDAwm9srlVYDmoUdMl4HgctjS9YEplEjNnTQVvvZHvTuXzCAfOKe1TOksGDh1BX2zWKlDFJ5B699xetBar_9XzsaagkObiWBS2uWYuox4Fp9WFaYUhm-V6xThU6ERRvtEHE2XbAGjYUZybr5ih0tCS1y8Fm_9xc7azQN6vxZcGEF8LEaI=w200-h200" width="200" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">As an adult, my years prior to retirement involved working with small bodies, small fingers, undeveloped brains, and many wooden puzzles. I was often frustrated and developed a further dislike for puzzles when, at the end of a work day, I'd find a dozen or more of the dreaded manipulatives with over 100 assorted random loose pieces piled on shelves. Some, were easier to reassemble than others, but I did not enjoy this task at all. Eventually, I realized that fewer options should be made available; that it should be reinforced that the children remove one puzzle at a time and ask for assistance rather than toss them willy nilly back on the shelf; and that there's always that one kid, who is able to assemble these in minutes...that was the one to ask for help.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAYS - FOUR, FIVE, SIX -</b> I walked past the puzzle several times a day, staring at it with intention. At some point I found a few pieces with words, dates, manufacturer etc. As it happened, those were in a border piece near the bottom left, so I put them together. Again, exhausting.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPzI7DvT-UDWe_gEbEhmBQQ8UaP44gsxMcT4lTRWlp-GDurttwpowHm3HiZDOV3-S1L-jSMBL0d6nMWRryxEbESmPceoMPjZbwIjnok6fyrWMdKVB5vkrjvwKDDZ2vBelvKVAFBsMBOvh2OdZ4Ss0cX1adqXG4swUFc42Wxqmu7tahWlg2f8RpQsls=s960" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="804" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhPzI7DvT-UDWe_gEbEhmBQQ8UaP44gsxMcT4lTRWlp-GDurttwpowHm3HiZDOV3-S1L-jSMBL0d6nMWRryxEbESmPceoMPjZbwIjnok6fyrWMdKVB5vkrjvwKDDZ2vBelvKVAFBsMBOvh2OdZ4Ss0cX1adqXG4swUFc42Wxqmu7tahWlg2f8RpQsls=w269-h320" width="269" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAY SEVEN - </b>Hubby had a look and located a few more pieces for edging. Grrr...he clearly subscribes to the "make the frame first" philosophy. I'm beginning to wonder whether there's a reason.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAY EIGHT - </b>Several people have told me that they become obsessed and need to sit until they're finished a puzzle. Apparently, I don't have that issue. I'm just glad I don't have need of the coffee table in the near future...or possibly ever. Why do people have living rooms anyhow? <b>***</b><i><b>(yet another blog topic)</b></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>DAY NINE - </b>A friend came to visit. She sat on the floor by the coffee table for about five minutes and here's what happened. One edge piece remained missing. She insisted it was lost, not there, never included. Nonetheless, glad that most of the border is done.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKshCOgnQnweHWpQM0zUx-_WoKDMoBpKQtryhs7Ze1mHNn_fgjhsgeMesLtRV3DrVquKNp_iOKz792onIEoFwcA0XR9PNF8ObwaeH8KGVqzAcOXQB98s48RD7KEgmex6vKVUlAmgc7sYxDXY3sA90EaCfTHHen_aqs9VkZMdC5b-9ZKb9fr3YEp0Fw=s2015" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1312" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhKshCOgnQnweHWpQM0zUx-_WoKDMoBpKQtryhs7Ze1mHNn_fgjhsgeMesLtRV3DrVquKNp_iOKz792onIEoFwcA0XR9PNF8ObwaeH8KGVqzAcOXQB98s48RD7KEgmex6vKVUlAmgc7sYxDXY3sA90EaCfTHHen_aqs9VkZMdC5b-9ZKb9fr3YEp0Fw=w208-h320" width="208" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;">So now, it's <b>DAY 10</b>. The plan is as follows. I will continue to stare at and add the occasional piece to this puzzle. I may or may not finish it one day, although I can almost guarantee there won't be another. Odds are good that I'll now work on it with more enthusiasm. After all, the dreaded border/frame, seems to have been miraculously almost completed.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>UPDATE</b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><u style="font-size: large;"><b>DAYS 15 & 16</b></u></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1y5IOtmkD-hgh_eH77Ae_WenpveMoOfD4_nkLWkoS9cDJA1bcTIlMQ2TJeM9cKLBwrKf5tf7D1QwXl5ZPuPdifRhqTamn2jCMHlgA26Tsj9HglwEyWeV0vNq1-X49FttzX2pOkQCqNhz61S_b-VcGgBl0oH2dlShrVE90RlKsCGFRY_MiGxRbt-H4=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1661" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh1y5IOtmkD-hgh_eH77Ae_WenpveMoOfD4_nkLWkoS9cDJA1bcTIlMQ2TJeM9cKLBwrKf5tf7D1QwXl5ZPuPdifRhqTamn2jCMHlgA26Tsj9HglwEyWeV0vNq1-X49FttzX2pOkQCqNhz61S_b-VcGgBl0oH2dlShrVE90RlKsCGFRY_MiGxRbt-H4=w326-h400" width="326" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_oBzI_d8-O9CEVQpRW66syMOGVzCu8fQPglhQP8PgWLB6LNcf5-L6Qb0KeLU7efWIxW3do6eHda3kc7BD4hsPQF1f0CCI0HN2sK6BZGwv9gjBdunt8bA0xUHY8bJCzAKF7R1Bhxv3gn-dzBZ4IpRuHEcLSW-TXjep30M6P9sUyt0To57fYIfBvjw7=s2048" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1255" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh_oBzI_d8-O9CEVQpRW66syMOGVzCu8fQPglhQP8PgWLB6LNcf5-L6Qb0KeLU7efWIxW3do6eHda3kc7BD4hsPQF1f0CCI0HN2sK6BZGwv9gjBdunt8bA0xUHY8bJCzAKF7R1Bhxv3gn-dzBZ4IpRuHEcLSW-TXjep30M6P9sUyt0To57fYIfBvjw7=w123-h200" width="123" /></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">I found it! The missing border piece was there all along. I feel so accomplished. Progress is slow and steady. I've come to realize that morning is my best time to sit and search. I have more patience and more light. Honestly, despite the appearance of a little helper, I did it all myself!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><u>FINAL THOUGHTS</u></b></div></blockquote><p>I finished. |I completed the puzzle after a mere...oh, let's just say three weeks. I learned something new. Dagnabit ! These jigsaws have a grain. Had I realized this in the first place, I could have turned all the pieces in the obvious directions. Would I have been finished faster? Not likely, but still...an interesting fact that I didn't know about before. Will I do another? Not in the near future, but who knows?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2CfFNyW7xdqNrqUSKGbd_t4-ihXseLvl23jUTSsL1mkY7H3edDHcmNogB3xdI0WaUH1Fi-xkBy7VznuKcedIACqYTBqyQI5fGZ8MukTj7EapcSE7YKwtZkyS2stnf7iZVm91OzJaWkM2goMwy1s2HgK-YWp7hsgm5oLxD0_GfWu7KzIbGqJthSbYh=s1440" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="997" data-original-width="1440" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEh2CfFNyW7xdqNrqUSKGbd_t4-ihXseLvl23jUTSsL1mkY7H3edDHcmNogB3xdI0WaUH1Fi-xkBy7VznuKcedIACqYTBqyQI5fGZ8MukTj7EapcSE7YKwtZkyS2stnf7iZVm91OzJaWkM2goMwy1s2HgK-YWp7hsgm5oLxD0_GfWu7KzIbGqJthSbYh=w400-h278" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-16055245410022532062021-08-30T10:25:00.004-04:002022-02-23T17:32:47.874-05:00Yummy Simple Cake<p><u><b> </b>Super Delicious Hint of Orange Cake</u></p><p></p><p>This is probably the simplest recipe for an amazing tasting cake.</p><p></p><p>When I was 12 or 13, I went to the CNE with my friend. We entered all manner of contests, particularly at the food building. A few weeks later, I received a package in the mail from St. Lawrence Starch Company. Exciting! It contained all kinds of goodies...corn oil, corn syrup, and a cookbook.</p><p></p><p>At the time, we lived in a subdivision in the outskirts, and my parents worked in the city, so I often made dinner and desserts for when they got home. I could hardly wait to try some of the new recipes with my free products. The most interesting to me was this cake recipe.</p><p></p><p>I lost the recipe for quite a while, then remembered I had submitted it to a church cookbook in the mid 60’s. After asking around, I finally retrieved the recipe so I’m now writing it out so that I might keep it safe.</p><p></p><p>3/4 cup shortening (I used butter)</p><p>1 1/2 cups sugar</p><p>3 egg yolks (save whites for later)</p><p>2 1/4 cup flour</p><p>3 1/2 tsp baking powder</p><p>1/2 tsp salt</p><p>1/4 cup orange juice</p><p>3/4 cup cold water</p><p>1 tbsp grated orange rind</p><p>3 egg whites stiffly beaten</p><p></p><p>Beat together shortening, sugar and egg yolks until very fluffy and light coloured. Sift flour, baking powder, an salt together and add alternately with orange juice and water.</p><p>Beat well after each addition. Stir in orange rind and fold in beaten egg whites.</p><p></p><p>Bake in spring form pan 350 for 30-35 minutes or until light golden brown. Size of pan depends on how many layers you want to make this into. Larger for two layers, smaller for three. Make buttercream frosting and use filling of your choice for layers.</p><p><u>Birthday Cake</u></p><p>I used buttercream frosting and filling with chocolate shavings (chocolate goes great with orange). You could use prepared frosting in a can if desired. I tossed some sprinkles on the outside of the cake. I was sorry I used a premade tube for the lettering on top...it ran and the letters spread, but oh well...cake tasted fantastic. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjha7C7Xeu2IT1CBT40wf91R06GYLG64VfHjMj7XU4tlRidduVQaQH-4dOEQGxueXuJvK8nA2X9oQEe4bSn-cVBh3uQBS3T12J6ASen4gxEALrXA6xHFeje0hrR1PbrQA5QhehYrPpMrlg/s499/51rss19k-mL._SX326_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="328" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjha7C7Xeu2IT1CBT40wf91R06GYLG64VfHjMj7XU4tlRidduVQaQH-4dOEQGxueXuJvK8nA2X9oQEe4bSn-cVBh3uQBS3T12J6ASen4gxEALrXA6xHFeje0hrR1PbrQA5QhehYrPpMrlg/w131-h200/51rss19k-mL._SX326_BO1%252C204%252C203%252C200_.jpg" width="131" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1wn_ai75yQMGOccxmDhjDYsEmSu6QxpK52egvfeKN1XHrtAwfzkATkjI36imu1pvZq3ossbdF-XVi1GoPZZO-4sE23yCC4jsLV98Ws_H_jmTvmVow1ejfpntEUxMcuOvkBfz4sDq7TCM/s1082/cake.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1082" data-original-width="526" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1wn_ai75yQMGOccxmDhjDYsEmSu6QxpK52egvfeKN1XHrtAwfzkATkjI36imu1pvZq3ossbdF-XVi1GoPZZO-4sE23yCC4jsLV98Ws_H_jmTvmVow1ejfpntEUxMcuOvkBfz4sDq7TCM/w98-h200/cake.jpg" width="98" /></a></div> </div>This is the original cookbook and the cake with fondant Garfield. <div><br /></div><div>***Today I learned that you can't paint fondant. I used white and painted it with food colouring because the store was out of orange. It didn't dry and was somewhat messy and challenging to assemble.<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-31895481656232611092021-06-21T18:40:00.000-04:002021-06-21T18:40:02.859-04:00When "We" Were Very Young<p> I wish I could remember more, but I can't. I blame it on trauma of varying degrees rather than my young age. At the time, I was nine years old. This becomes more relevant as the story goes on.</p><p>A couple of months into my fifth grade year, our teacher Mrs. Garrison disappeared. Suddenly, she just wasn't there any longer. A few students were recruited and given the task of clearing out and boxing up her plants, books, and personal paraphernalia. We were told, she was very ill and wouldn't be returning that year. She didn't.</p><p>She died. </p><p>Most of us were a bit young to comprehend the situation and the concept of death. Some of us were apprehensive and of course, as young children usually are, we were quite self absorbed. Who would be educating us now?</p><p>Out of nowhere, or somewhere, arrived an elegantly dressed man with an accent which I identified immediately. After all, my parents and many of their friends had the same speech patterns. Mr. Boehlke was our new teacher for the remainder of the year. Although I felt some kinship with him, he seemed disinterested when I announced that I too was born in Deutschland, and could point out where on a map if he wanted to see. </p><p>He didn't.</p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhzKf0-FjSaTjwA4uxwl8UnnBMJ1pGI_6F6UDcjL5Q_VLxeYR2CuBCg9fr3ywQ8GX_uX5LTQSX2BWCiUfKkRc2tJwcXaeG5sFfE0Df56epQ1EM8LccLJUr8XJpi0b2BXFL_JMU1e_fbk/s1440/class.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="Thirty-eight students were present on picture day." border="0" data-original-height="994" data-original-width="1440" height="276" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVhzKf0-FjSaTjwA4uxwl8UnnBMJ1pGI_6F6UDcjL5Q_VLxeYR2CuBCg9fr3ywQ8GX_uX5LTQSX2BWCiUfKkRc2tJwcXaeG5sFfE0Df56epQ1EM8LccLJUr8XJpi0b2BXFL_JMU1e_fbk/w400-h276/class.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My 5th grade class</td></tr></tbody></table><p>When it came time for open house and for parents to meet the replacement, things went a bit differently. Mom and dad quickly discovered that Mr. Boehlke taught Saturday morning German school to second generation immigrants as well as some high school students who needed extra help with a credit. For whatever reason, my parents decided that it would be a good idea for me to join his Saturday class.</p><p>I suppose I was excited at first thinking I would somehow be more special by participating in another of Mr. Boehlke's classes. It all unraveled fairly quickly.</p><p>On the initial Saturday, dad took me to a school some distance away from our flat in the city. I was then to take a streetcar home with whatever change my parents had allotted me. As I walked into the classroom, I panicked. Everyone there was tall and old, teenager old. I was intimidated and wanted to go home. </p><p>I survived class, by attempting to lay low in the back of the room. That was easy. I was young and short. I understood very little of the "high German", and soon came to realize I really didn't want to be there. </p><p>Athletics was an important part of this curriculum and after what seemed like an endless two hour language class, we were expected to participate in an hour of gymnastics. Husband and wife, former German olympians would teach us we were told. This did little to assuage this 9 year old's terror at seeing equipment which was much taller than most adults. </p><p>The final challenge was to get myself back home. I was somewhere west of where we lived and it was a simple streetcar ride to the Honest Ed's landmark where I needed to exit the vehicle, or so I thought. After sitting in the streetcar for what seemed like an inordinate length of time, I realized something was wrong. Nothing looked familiar. Dad had said, and I remembered his words exactly, "Get on the streetcar. Get off at Honest Ed's. Walk home."</p><p>I suppose nobody told me where to get on the streetcar and how to go in the correct direction. Either that, or I didn't listen. I remember being calm and yet terrified. I had no extra cash, I was alone in the city, in unfamiliar territory. Fortunately, I had grabbed a transfer as I entered the vehicle. It was offered to me and it was free. I left, crossed the street, got on another car, and relieved that the driver accepted the transfer, went in the opposite direction. As I passed the school where I had originated, things began to look familiar...relief. </p><p>Someone recently asked on facebook, "What's something scary you did as a kid that isn't done nowadays." My answer? Riding the TTC all over the city. I used to take transit everywhere, to Maple Leaf Gardens for events, to the CBC on Jarvis St. to meet dad at work, and more. </p><p>Having done those things as a youngster, and having survived, taught me a few things. I believe I became more independent, I learned to adapt to change, and I became a pretty good problem solver. </p><p>Despite cell phones and all manner of technology nowadays, who would feel safe letting a nine year old venture out in a city of millions? It's sad really. It was an education in and of itself...an important part of growing up most children are not, could not, and should not be afforded any longer. </p><p>The world is a scary place. Or, perhaps it was a scary place back then as well, and because there was no high speed communication, internet, or instantaneous t.v. news reporting, we just didn't know any better.</p><p> </p>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-56082206422813847332021-06-08T16:41:00.003-04:002021-06-08T16:44:49.132-04:00The Push - My Review and Thoughts<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4gTai00RN5Wo5G5N36faRlfW5N5TvMTMd_5XSXn_-uS16kykSC2_2X64A-WkQzNEStYW7nltHfiTRdIJySVH36lbDX8TeDWZWHtZ-HchVgAmI2Ur1toQ10QO4U74rf1BmOhyecYa9P4/s2015/195472804_10158666948593889_8105146255495515247_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2015" data-original-width="1303" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK4gTai00RN5Wo5G5N36faRlfW5N5TvMTMd_5XSXn_-uS16kykSC2_2X64A-WkQzNEStYW7nltHfiTRdIJySVH36lbDX8TeDWZWHtZ-HchVgAmI2Ur1toQ10QO4U74rf1BmOhyecYa9P4/s320/195472804_10158666948593889_8105146255495515247_n.jpg" /></span></a></div><span style="font-size: medium;">Wow! Just wow! I cried through chapters 44 and 81. I don't normally bawl when I read books. At least, I can't remember when it's happened before. I also can't recall the last time I read a book this quickly, cover to cover, without wanting to put it down. My first ever marathon when I was youngish was "Thorn Birds"...no crying, just non stop reading after having my wisdom teeth removed. </span><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I ordered the book "The Push" by first time Canadian author Ashley Audrain many months ago. I was 12th in line on the library waiting list for what appeared to be a coveted title. I couldn't remember why I wanted to read it, probably a book review in the newspaper or a suggestion from a friend. It's not everyone's "cup of tea" as I learned while looking over some Amazon reviews. I quickly discovered, however, that it was mine.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">I immediately appreciated the author's style of writing. It contained numerous short, staccato like sentences, as well as brief manageable chapters (in case you need to "finish" a chapter as I do rather than stopping mid plot before falling asleep). I checked the back flap, read about the author, saw that there were about 300 pages and 85 chapters. Can't tell you why I do this, another habit of mine.</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Without going into great detail and ruining the plot, I just have to say, this is definitely a book more of female interest. It's a psychological drama that makes you think about genetics, environment, changing roles of women, and ambivalent feelings that many mothers face. Basically, the theme throughout is motherhood with its stresses and strains. The title "The Push" refers to a number of occurrences throughout the story. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">If someone were to ask me what the book's about, I'm not sure how I would answer except to say, "It's about a woman giving birth...a couple having children."</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">Sounds boring. It's not. </span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;">--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</span></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><span><u><b>NOTE</b></u></span><span> - I read someplace this book is being made into a movie. I won't be seeing it. I made that mistake several times before in recent times. The Girl on the Train...good book, awful movie. Also, The Woman in the Window...loved it. The movie was chaotic and confusing. Characters were left totally undeveloped. I read "News of the World"...good book, but would never have imagined Tom Hanks as the title role. </span><span>I usually find the casting disappointing and nothing like how I imagined the characters.</span></span></p>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-50817422822042454152021-04-17T14:05:00.003-04:002021-04-21T10:24:10.490-04:00Canada Post & You've Got Mail Part 2<p>On January 11, 2014, I wrote a blog about super mail boxes, or community mail boxes that were sprouting up in newer neighbourhoods like ours. I included the absurd idea spewed by the conservative government about the health benefits to seniors of these eyesores.</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyZOPRD_We0Xg2TVA6dRRpDy8V7FeNZ6756yg1v66yhwJc7zrTBvRyi8LyMIDxok1c_BjJqTXQs_lbw6RU6QazHnvsMAeOeBkombTvGjcIAlzPfXQDn3A1sqjYDCjMtGY6y4d5MPfqw0/s960/mail+meme.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="665" data-original-width="960" height="375" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkyZOPRD_We0Xg2TVA6dRRpDy8V7FeNZ6756yg1v66yhwJc7zrTBvRyi8LyMIDxok1c_BjJqTXQs_lbw6RU6QazHnvsMAeOeBkombTvGjcIAlzPfXQDn3A1sqjYDCjMtGY6y4d5MPfqw0/w432-h375/mail+meme.jpg" width="432" /></a></div><p></p>Seven years later, I've become used to the idea of occasionally trekking a couple of blocks and I've adapted to varying climatic hindrances that were part of acquiring my mail.<div><br /></div><div>Recently, the super mailboxes have been upgraded. We received a notice and a set of keys one day. Several weeks later, I was afforded further senior exercise opportunities by having to visit the mailbox three times. The boxes had suddenly been changed and I had neglected to switch the key on my lanyard. After going back home and retrieving the correct new key, I headed back only to discover that the boxes and numbers were also different. Back home I went to reacquaint myself with the new information. Then I tried to get my mail ! </div><div><br /></div><div> At first glance, I noted the attractive artwork and sleek, stylistic design of the replacement boxes. </div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lIFxnfjbb0My1ZGq01pAbKMSAIOIIbkYHgQFNxPpXQ8tHZXmzy1xLEZ8d_ls1vrJGd1xZ73epNQriIg2uofy7Rqpj6hUCP8Q4virhrcfAV6yb4Ei74sI9aRgWbacHvV7P6H80NmN_Mw/s1316/mailboxes1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="640" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lIFxnfjbb0My1ZGq01pAbKMSAIOIIbkYHgQFNxPpXQ8tHZXmzy1xLEZ8d_ls1vrJGd1xZ73epNQriIg2uofy7Rqpj6hUCP8Q4virhrcfAV6yb4Ei74sI9aRgWbacHvV7P6H80NmN_Mw/w195-h400/mailboxes1.jpg" width="195" /></a></div><div>Apparently, these boxes are not only pretty, but also "more secure" we're told by Canada Post. That's a relief. After all, I wouldn't want anyone stealing my coupons, solicitations for money, or my Senior Health and Snowbird magazines. If you look carefully at the front, there's an added bonus...giant numerals that can easily be seen without having to put on the dreaded reading glasses. OK...so far, so good.</div></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhYcBLlYcWoNlJfviRgdTXH6xCHC8XSZOjNfTOmncVCRn_bNTWNo1GOrU-986lNphVmQbl29KAaNTnjU-7ezI0X0ezwSYI5HZ0a-YLkBJ3BzVIHHUv7VkBs70J0tgPkWCS5-8D0uYh0U/s960/mailboxes.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="657" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKhYcBLlYcWoNlJfviRgdTXH6xCHC8XSZOjNfTOmncVCRn_bNTWNo1GOrU-986lNphVmQbl29KAaNTnjU-7ezI0X0ezwSYI5HZ0a-YLkBJ3BzVIHHUv7VkBs70J0tgPkWCS5-8D0uYh0U/w258-h400/mailboxes.jpg" width="258" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lovely concrete slabs to be hidden by snow in winter. I'd hate to have boxes 14 to 16...read on.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div></div><div> </div><div><div>So what could possibly be the problem you ask? Upon careful examination you can see that the boxes are no longer square, but resemble a safety deposit box. Yes, they are slightly wider and yes, the advantage that's described in the user guide is that your magazines will lay flat as will your large business envelopes. Yayyy....bonus no more added wrinkles to William Shatner or Betty White on the cover of my Zoomer magazine.</div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://www.canadapost-postescanada.ca/cpo/mc/assets/pdf/cmb/CMB_Guide_en.pdf">https://www.canadapost-postescanada.ca/cpo/mc/assets/pdf/cmb/CMB_Guide_en.pdf</a> <br /><div><br /></div><div>There's a telephone number to call if you have mobility issues...wonderful. Good thinking. This does not help the bulk of the older population in our neighbourhood. I don't think the idea of "test subjects" ever came into the designer's mind. I'm also certain that there's been no input from the public and by public, I'm referring specifically to the senior population. </div></div><div><br /></div><div>I saw an older man who seemed to have brought a small child to help get his mail. How nice I initially thought...grandpa has taken grandson with him. I also saw a woman who was curiously contorted into a pretzel in front of the installation. Then I located and opened my own mailbox. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ym-M51jUbzJ-abtIdX0Iqc14VyEkezRPGwXEhKlSTH6SKBt40qNOV2Jh6VuNwOTJTBNGJgQngB1RHkOeU1H_05hRWHGFu2AjL03Fj7Nc_D3-gdlqHzOKI9wtJOVTqYAf50Y72U3fV7Y/s1316/mailboxes3.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1316" data-original-width="640" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ym-M51jUbzJ-abtIdX0Iqc14VyEkezRPGwXEhKlSTH6SKBt40qNOV2Jh6VuNwOTJTBNGJgQngB1RHkOeU1H_05hRWHGFu2AjL03Fj7Nc_D3-gdlqHzOKI9wtJOVTqYAf50Y72U3fV7Y/s320/mailboxes3.jpg" /></a></div>I was instantly thankful that my mail slot was toward the centre and not lower down. First, I had to hunch down and twist my neck in an attempt to determine whether anything was inside (hence, pretzel lady). Secondly, the slit was so narrow, my slightly chubby, adult arm could barely fit inside (thus, small child accompaniment). Thirdly, I think the slot went all the way into the next township.<div><br /></div><div>I must say though, these mailboxes give me a new mission. Henceforth, I will spend some of my free time lurking and doing an independent study of mail retrieval methods from these boxes. I'm particularly looking forward to seeing how well people are able to accomplish handstands in order to get mail from slots 14 to 16.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh....and please, please don't ever send me a parcel!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</div><div><br /></div><div><b>UPDATE</b> - Went to the mailbox with my adult son yesterday. He offered to reach into the box for our mail. His arm is thinner and longer, still....</div><div><br /></div><div>This morning, hubby suggested a new solution. Brilliant.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEx0yhqxThIcweYQ8BU8S7auvRw6vkieP44O7CqUaKsdZlWQhogURxOne8_HYah1scCob00O9HitWLAQOHryItvW5I819W-vzyWey6X30aJzz6Y3q3nyZjULBWfFdzxELW4Hz-uvudpE/s1476/grabber.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1476" data-original-width="625" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTEx0yhqxThIcweYQ8BU8S7auvRw6vkieP44O7CqUaKsdZlWQhogURxOne8_HYah1scCob00O9HitWLAQOHryItvW5I819W-vzyWey6X30aJzz6Y3q3nyZjULBWfFdzxELW4Hz-uvudpE/w170-h400/grabber.jpg" width="170" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-82420205848751153842021-04-12T11:53:00.002-04:002021-04-21T10:16:39.213-04:00What We're Taught and What We Teach<p><b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></b></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b> <i>I finally figured out my password so I'm back. The format of this blog space has changed. I hate the new appearance. I'm at an age where I hate almost anything new, and generally, I feel justified. The composing page is very white and I find it difficult to see. I might as well use paper so I can tell what I've written. The font keeps changing. Anyhow, as is obvious, I haven't been here for a long time. The pandemic has taken over my being, both physical, and mental, and I did not feel compelled to write anything on that particular subject. It's been covered by many.</i></b></span></p><p><b><i><span style="font-family: arial;">The media has bombarded us constantly with everything...facts, fear, predictions, and horrible events happening to humanity. Our perceptions of the world have changed and not for the better. We have all had enough.</span></i></b></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span><b><i>T</i></b></span><b><i><span>he following story was inspired by one of my recent outdoor hikes. I enjoy my quiet alone walking time when I can meditate, reflect, and remember. </span></i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span><br /></span></i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i> +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ </i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><br /></i></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><i><span>''</span></i></b></span><b style="font-family: arial;">Pick that up right now and don't ever do that again!"</b></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>My mom was livid. She made me feel very tiny in my four foot tall, eight year old body. I had committed the ultimate faux pas, and I was shaking. How dare I?</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><span>What did I do that incurred her wrath you ask? I dropped a gum wrapper on the ground. Yes, it was a teeny tiny piece of Wrigley's foil, made even more compact because I first crumpled it in my youthful hand.</span> I remember it as if it were yesterday. I recall the exact location, time of day, and what I was wearing. It's as though even now, I can see myself committing that heinous act.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>I was scolded. "Put that in your pocket until you get home, or at least to a place where you can properly throw it out."</b></span></p><p><span><b><span style="font-family: arial;">I was upset and embarrassed. I don't believe I have ever purposely littered since. By purposely, I'm not counting the occasional store receipt that brazenly escapes from a grocery bag on a gusty day.</span></b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>Although I didn't always enjoy it when I was young, as an adult, I appreciate a lot of what my parents instilled in me. The subject of trash based on my experiences, has become a particular sore point. </b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">When I'm out going for a walk, I often think back on my upbringing and it makes me sad. There, littering the ground are pizza boxes, food wrappers, drink cans, toys, clothing, and more.</span><b>*** </b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>A rather large culprit these days seems to be pandemic masks. In the spirit of true confessions, I admit I have lost one. Since then, I have made certain it won't happen again by attaching them to a lanyard around my neck.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>I was upset and yet somehow heartened to read this article about a wonderful woman in New Brunswick who is doing her best to help during these troubling times.</b></span></p><p><span style="font-family: arial;"><a href="https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/new-brunswick/disposable-masks-litter-fredericton-1.5980976" target="_blank"><b>https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/new-brunswick/disposable-masks-litter-fredericton-1.5980976</b></a></span></p><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>I often think about my teaching days. Although I remained within the confines of the curriculum, I managed to deviate from time to time. If I had it to do again, I believe I would base my whole year around nature and environmental issues with an emphasis on litter. I'd add a few "adulting" skills like money management, and some fun but educational life skills...perhaps knitting, sewing, and the like. </b></span><div><b><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span></b></div><div><b><span style="font-family: arial;">I could totally do this. Either that, or start my own Waldorf school.</span></b></div><div><p><b><span style="font-family: arial;"> <a href="https://torontowaldorfschool.com/curriculum/environmental-initiatives/">https://torontowaldorfschool.com/curriculum/environmental-initiatives/</a></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-family: arial;">My faith was restored recently, when I saw a man, late thirties I'm guessing, and his large furry Newfoundland dog, walking along a woodlot area. The man had a bag, gloves, a grabber, and was collecting trash. Impressed, I stopped and spoke to him and gave his dog a cookie. </span></b></p><div><b><span style="font-family: arial;">"I figured I might as well do this since I have to walk my dog anyhow, " he said. </span></b></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b>I thanked him for being a good citizen, moved on, and wondered about his upbringing. It also motivated me to think about doing the same thing in future. After all, I have a grabber, some gloves, and lots of bags...just no non essential dog.</b></span></div><div><span style="font-family: arial;"><b><br /></b></span></div></div><p><b><span style="font-family: arial;">I think awareness starts with each individual. Perhaps someone will see me picking up trash and become inspired as well. Either that, or they'll wonder about the sad, weird old lady gathering the neighbourhood garbage. </span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span style="font-size: medium;">+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++</span></b></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>***RANDOM DISCOVERIES</b></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="522" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnsxgCoOByyJwUAnOuLHis0Jv-jbtwNtqJdZi0RD5sVSSX1dH_-p7uH-PBcb_ODmmnQ5wKAUzyqxavIgPN2ZnvES4y89kR57QWk7YDKSMQmxtteJLRVMmSCHH569i5dP87jBsDlmtsIM/w261-h320/162435764_10158490625198889_9027851802437263910_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="261" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">of course, the masks</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="582" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jvJwBymhRPH4INa1qQAob1dKDEJT0XkiED7FTRMbtCivcYa_qHeKXy9_hfGIXIi1NMeKx5s0qBIm8yiq6Y8CnaDzP0P78DJx95ZfcQtSbszBXsUyM7MbRubLcdPStLsuTE8tVhxLDnA/w230-h320/162352469_10158490700463889_6692453206302298339_o.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="230" /></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">food packaging and energy drink cans</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7jvJwBymhRPH4INa1qQAob1dKDEJT0XkiED7FTRMbtCivcYa_qHeKXy9_hfGIXIi1NMeKx5s0qBIm8yiq6Y8CnaDzP0P78DJx95ZfcQtSbszBXsUyM7MbRubLcdPStLsuTE8tVhxLDnA/s582/162352469_10158490700463889_6692453206302298339_o.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></a></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcnsxgCoOByyJwUAnOuLHis0Jv-jbtwNtqJdZi0RD5sVSSX1dH_-p7uH-PBcb_ODmmnQ5wKAUzyqxavIgPN2ZnvES4y89kR57QWk7YDKSMQmxtteJLRVMmSCHH569i5dP87jBsDlmtsIM/s640/162435764_10158490625198889_9027851802437263910_o.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></a><p></p><p><span style="font-size: medium;"> <b> </b></span><b style="font-size: large;"> </b></p><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9Wsc-04RwU4_SiNWpc9VJ0JyZuR0UBUfnUoolVPPsy5EL2xibi4SDoqA7YJPWq4OzyTR_3edA1xcQklakOME_QJzv4y_qtIWSpE4n5eI7u_y2_YC3NZOR21pVQX5Eq0LkZjQhq6R6y8/s600/162500604_10158490697048889_5886863495038970202_o.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="535" data-original-width="600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-9Wsc-04RwU4_SiNWpc9VJ0JyZuR0UBUfnUoolVPPsy5EL2xibi4SDoqA7YJPWq4OzyTR_3edA1xcQklakOME_QJzv4y_qtIWSpE4n5eI7u_y2_YC3NZOR21pVQX5Eq0LkZjQhq6R6y8/w320-h285/162500604_10158490697048889_5886863495038970202_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">miscellaneous clothing, shoes, even underwear</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnAWA4p-d_6tCVWqt4qy0kSFoxuj0wkIRdIsswyOSoBfGY-d41XybkC2XRciHH4bWMQHE4qCeRMjbXIXb_HusiMIGH3lKBKSATT6SLj3-MXhUX_uqoJNLlr9gJAcnkdoos7o-uJSxBPP0/s960/162457372_10158490702433889_8367799672082239684_o.jpg" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="510" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnAWA4p-d_6tCVWqt4qy0kSFoxuj0wkIRdIsswyOSoBfGY-d41XybkC2XRciHH4bWMQHE4qCeRMjbXIXb_HusiMIGH3lKBKSATT6SLj3-MXhUX_uqoJNLlr9gJAcnkdoos7o-uJSxBPP0/w170-h320/162457372_10158490702433889_8367799672082239684_o.jpg" width="170" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">blender anyone? </td></tr></tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5yiYH1bqOBwzu8UasiIzJMW_XFURYTpRiC-gyXI4BxgrwaOKKOTNd7NFeaJOUQ-lIhgxXt1oERGf5uKjs3DBtsi8CO67lpaBrbNIA3_DqFnWCVVhToMEAPjUy5TWeiDXcv0qOel6A-s/s708/162221995_10158490694268889_8353254508819397284_o.jpg" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="708" data-original-width="526" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5yiYH1bqOBwzu8UasiIzJMW_XFURYTpRiC-gyXI4BxgrwaOKKOTNd7NFeaJOUQ-lIhgxXt1oERGf5uKjs3DBtsi8CO67lpaBrbNIA3_DqFnWCVVhToMEAPjUy5TWeiDXcv0qOel6A-s/w238-h320/162221995_10158490694268889_8353254508819397284_o.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">toys of all sorts</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ </div></b></span><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><u><br /></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><u>UPDATE - April 21, 2021</u></b></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><u><br /></u></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b>It's the day before Earth Day. I have been heartened to see pictures and articles of late about people cleaning up, picking up, and making future plans to do the same. Wouldn't it be nice though if this weren't necessary? If only people would think before they toss!</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ub75mTh7oCHbJoZss-gB5zZmQfcjKUxc31wVqlKb7yVzf_VmId3Cyv02scdsjBcDVjKDUf4YIjBNQ0k1SQyFaPkYDLBBdu-aUMkFIwRcPeD_n1P-gasjPy45r1ULBxayF6gYZzMhW0A/s1536/litter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="1062" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ub75mTh7oCHbJoZss-gB5zZmQfcjKUxc31wVqlKb7yVzf_VmId3Cyv02scdsjBcDVjKDUf4YIjBNQ0k1SQyFaPkYDLBBdu-aUMkFIwRcPeD_n1P-gasjPy45r1ULBxayF6gYZzMhW0A/w276-h400/litter.jpg" width="276" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-83191536674587061622020-10-01T00:00:00.001-04:002020-10-03T11:28:52.413-04:00Happy Independence Day Nigeria<p> I wrote the following blog a number of years ago. Since it's now the 60th anniversary of the independence of Nigeria, I decided it bears repeating. I am not of Nigerian heritage nor do I know much about the country. What I do know, is that it gained its independence from Great Britain on October 1, 1960.</p><p>Here's the blog - </p><p>As this new month has started, so has my reminiscing. Fifty years ago today, October 1st, 1960, Nigeria gained its independence from Great Britain. That's one of those pieces of trivia, and I have many, that is firmly etched in my brain. Why do I remember this? I was 10 years old, sitting in Mr. Footit's 7th grade music class at Essex Sr. Public School, not too far from the famed Christie Pits in Toronto. To commemorate the event our music teacher decided we should learn the Nigerian national anthem. "Nigeria we hail thee, our own dear native land, though tribe and tongue may differ...in brotherhood we stand.." Sorry Mr. Footit, that's all I remember.</p><p>I do recall a rather different teacher though. I'm not certain how old he was because he always seemed ancient. But then, all teachers did. I can't even tell you if he was any good as an educator. I do know that he was severely handicapped by arthritis. His back was slightly hunched and his feet shuffled when he walked. His gray suit hung loosely on his ever shrinking body. On good days we could see the pained expression on his face as his gnarled fingers attempted to play a few chords on the piano. Other times, he could barely function and found it challenging to start the record player.</p><p>Without fail, we ended every music class by listening to and singing along with a scratched up recording of *"Heart of My Heart". I wouldn't be surprised if it had been a 78 rpm. He told us he'd worn out many such vinyls during his teaching career. We all wondered why.</p><p>I recall how one day, a brave student finally asked. " Sir, why do you always play that record?"</p><p> With moist eyes, I recall Mr. Footit's simple answer. "I want you to always remember me". </p><p>It worked.</p><p>_________________________________________________________________________________</p><p> *Excerpt from "Heart of My Heart" ....."too bad we had to part. I know a tear would glisten, if once more I could listen, to that gang that sang heart of my heart."</p>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-86833089868783035222020-08-01T10:09:00.001-04:002020-08-05T12:33:36.147-04:00I Just Want A Hippopotamus <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Our lives are all about making connections. I'm not talking about connections with family, friends, or other people. I'm referring to the connections which teachers are always hoping children can make. The ones when they learn something new...connections between facts, or songs, or news, or family traditions for example. I'm talking about the connections that make ideas come together and sometimes make us say, "aha", or "oh yeah, I remember that", or "now it all makes sense".<br />
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So I started to wonder. If we hear something frequently, does it sit in the back of our brain somehow as if it were important or special? Is it lingering there, waiting to break out some day? Is there some kind of subconscious or subliminal connection?<br />
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When I was very young, I remember hearing a song called, "I Want A Hippopotamus for Christmas". It didn't mean much to me, or so I thought. I just remember hearing it...a lot. In the 80's, Anne Murray sang about a hippo in her bathtub. I know this because my toddler children wanted to hear the cassette tape ad infinitum.<br />
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In the late 90's, there was a Canadian tv commercial about house hippos. The commercial was aimed at children, attempting to get them to use critical thinking skills to ask questions about what they were watching on tv. Apparently, children started to believe that house hippos were an actual real thing.<br />
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Similar commercials reappeared in 2019, created by the Canadian non profit literary organization MediaSmarts. It was part of a public service "break the fake" campaign produced by an Ottawa firm HyperActive (I got this from Wikipedia). The video was more explicit in reminding children that they shouldn't believe everything they see on tv. There were accompanying lesson plans for teachers who opted to use this as a teaching tool.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><b><i><span style="background-color: white;">“Many Canadians remember the little hippos fondly, so we thought they were the perfect reminder that just because we want something to be true, doesn’t mean we should believe it,” said </span><span style="background-color: white;">Kathryn Ann Hill, Executive Director at MediaSmarts</span><span style="background-color: white;">.</span></i></b></span><br />
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I couldn't help but wonder, "Why a hippo?"<br />
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Why was the hippo the symbol that the media company decided to use for the commercials? In my mind, I had a vision of advertisers who were somehow influenced by either hippos in their bathtub, or wanting a hippopotamus for Christmas.<br />
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More recently, I've seen frequent mentions of house hippos on Facebook. People have been excitedly posting, "I found one," and sharing its obscure location. Whether they're planters or ornaments, hippos in Canadian homes are starting to replace the age old Norwegian kitchen witch it seems. And why not? They're purely Canadian and they are real after all aren't they?<br />
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I think, "I want a hippopotamus for Christmas". Perhaps I'll find one during my eventual post pandemic excursions. There seems to be a certain joy in locating them hiding away in gift shops and thrift stores. Maybe I'll discover one that speaks to me.<br />
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Meanwhile, I have to wonder what creativity will eventually come out of the current "Baby Shark" generation.<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: large;">UPDATE</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif; text-align: justify;">Found one. Like me, he is slightly flawed, rough around the edges, has been chipped away at, but is not totally worn out. His colouring has become bland, but there are still occasional artsy signs of creativity, and perhaps of a once quite different and busy life. He has short little legs, is a little hefty in the mid section, and enjoys decorating himself for the occasional nightly outing. He becomes more easily tired, continues to be frequently distracted, but still manages to do a lot more than many other hippos his age. In fact, he has even travelled a distance from a scratch and dent rack, just to live at this house. He enjoys fun, and smiling, and is hoping to be around for awhile to add to his lifetime of adventures.</span></div>
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Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-7289289630102655402020-06-19T19:06:00.001-04:002020-06-21T18:55:07.775-04:00Lemon Posset<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
I saw this pretty photo somewhere and thought this dessert looked good. The appearance reminded me a bit of creme brulee which is my all time favourite super rich dessert, not to be eaten more than once a year.</div>
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I found out it was called, Lemon Posset...bonus. I love lemon. Curious to find out what "posset" meant and assuming it was some kind of french culinary term, I searched google translate.<br />
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Wow...who knew? Posset, means...posset. That got me nowhere.</div>
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So I tried another tact, looked up "posset" and "detect language". Google detected Latin. Seriously? So posset is Latin for the word "could".<br />
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Posset this possibly be correct? I doubted it.</div>
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Further research was required because I hate not knowing stuff, and now I needed a derivation and definition.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I looked up "posset" in <b style="color: blue;">dictionary.com. </b>Thankfully, I didn't do this first because I would have given up my quest. I found this meaning, </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-size: 18px;">a drink made of hot milk curdled with ale, wine, or the like, often sweetened and spiced." Sounded very unappealing.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #1a1a1a; font-family: inherit; font-size: 18px;">Alas, wikipedia came to my rescue...or did it? Once again, I found the British hot drink with milk and ale description. </span></div>
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So after looking at the recipe, I decided to create my own definitions.<br />
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Posset - n. <span style="text-align: center;">A fancy french pudding with lots of sugar. A diabetic nightmare.</span></div>
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<span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">Alternate </span><span style="text-align: center;"> meaning - A decadent </span><span style="text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">dessert, i</span><span style="text-align: center;">nsanely expensive at a restaurant.</span></div>
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I actually found the recipe for this dessert to be very simple and very high in calories. It's just one step away from eating from the sugar bowl. Dare I try it? Tempting. I'll report back if I do.</div>
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<u><b>Ingredients</b></u><br />
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2 cups whipping cream<br />
2/3 cup sugar <br />
1/4 cup fresh squeezed lemon juice (2 lemons)<br />
lemon zest from 2 lemons<br />
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<u><b>Directions</b></u><br />
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Bring whipping cream to a gradual boil for 3 minutes. Combine and boil sugar, zest, and lemon juice. Whisk lemon mixture into cream. Remove from heat and strain out zest before pouring into individual dessert bowls. Let cool then put in fridge to chill until firm. Decorate with fruit or flowers<br />
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<b><u><i style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue; font-size: large;">UPDATE</span></i></u></b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPJ4rLWbl0c96sAx2PvVwlQyjw9dq8f__qJGIozzdlfwqG6n6lnMqzY92_Kd0WEuyiaS5GF42y8j60sCeTTmkolgaf-m3rxz0MbahPlTeoKvBJtkwkfgs7oQoCatzd9EJIShQsCwQi24/s1600/105974113_10157870443473889_5823288752468615461_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="654" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsPJ4rLWbl0c96sAx2PvVwlQyjw9dq8f__qJGIozzdlfwqG6n6lnMqzY92_Kd0WEuyiaS5GF42y8j60sCeTTmkolgaf-m3rxz0MbahPlTeoKvBJtkwkfgs7oQoCatzd9EJIShQsCwQi24/s200/105974113_10157870443473889_5823288752468615461_n.jpg" width="135" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtF8FLHBhe-jAHKArJiFkw3BFEVrbJhjJnxVcsa4e5Giu0sbIob-H1BZSnRxl7a8IwIk8lfhEyZ58waXku9Ci-PGnpXZ1imwzBwAgpOkpiudsn7bS_RtnVTn-zJSuh-PNJTgnmA1KuK9Q/s1600/104900625_10157870443263889_6399812901979463759_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="539" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtF8FLHBhe-jAHKArJiFkw3BFEVrbJhjJnxVcsa4e5Giu0sbIob-H1BZSnRxl7a8IwIk8lfhEyZ58waXku9Ci-PGnpXZ1imwzBwAgpOkpiudsn7bS_RtnVTn-zJSuh-PNJTgnmA1KuK9Q/s200/104900625_10157870443263889_6399812901979463759_n.jpg" width="110" /></a>I made it. It's not so simple. I combined a couple of recipes as I always do and noted changes in "ingredients" and "directions" above. If you don't warm the cream slowly, it gets a strange consistency. Also, I heated the sugar and lemon juice to dissolve sugar. Used only 2/3 cups sugar. Then I whisked the sugar, lemon mixture into the cream. Strained the whole thing to remove zest. Poured into dishes and cooled. Once cooled, I put it in the fridge to solidify. Decorated.<br />
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It tasted pretty good but I likely won't make it again.<br />
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<br />Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-37894901172126500552020-06-16T10:12:00.000-04:002020-06-16T10:13:54.347-04:00Where Have the Months Gone? A Pandemic ReviewFor awhile since self isolation, I'd wake up in the morning with the title and melody from a Carpenters' song, "It's Yesterday Once More" swimming in my head. Although the song has nothing to do with our current situation, it does contain a poignant verse which spoke to me.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><b><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">"Lookin' back on how it was in years gone by</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">And the good times that I had</span><br style="background-color: white; color: #222222;" /><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Makes today seem rather sad, so much has changed"</span></i></b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;"><i><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span jsname="YS01Ge" style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">I miss m</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">y friends, my trips, certain group activities, shopping, my appointments (yes even those), and mostly, my freedom. I suppose it is affecting me more since I am now considered "older", "senior", and "high risk group", during this time of covid-19 pandemic. The problem is that with age, there's also a certain element of urgency to get on with life, and to do all those things we always wanted to do while it's still possible. This isolation is severely impacting the time I have left to complete those activities.</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Don't get me wrong, I'm not playing the world's tiniest violin here. I understand how fortunate I am. I know there are all kinds of horrific issues in the world, and there are people who were suffering prior to this, and even more so now as a result of this pandemic. The loss of jobs, the homelessness, the poverty, the hunger, the death toll,</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> has escalated everywhere. I too have family members who are impacted.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;">Nonetheless, I'm no longer young enough to recoup this time, or to consider it as just a blip in my life.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">On the bright side, there are things I've accomplished during my stay at home time. I'm trying hard not to think of them as "make work projects", since that would depress me. So, in an effort to make the best of my "captivity" as it were, here are some of my escapades and accomplishments over the last couple of months. This summary, is not meant to sound boastful. I have not found ways to save the world. It </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">is </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">rather</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> an attempt to remind myself that I have managed to use some of the time to a good end.</span><br />
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<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">It all started with new and inventive ways of cooking with food finds early on, while we were unable to shop. I've completed several blogs about that including </span><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;"><span style="color: blue;"> </span><b><i><span style="color: blue;">"</span></i></b></span></span><b><i><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: blue;">Covid Cooking" 5/21/20</span></i></b><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3; color: blue;"> </span><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: #f3f3f3;">.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span></span>
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"> The cooking, then got interspersed with the dreaded housework, </span></span><b style="background-color: white;"><i><span style="color: blue;">"</span></i></b></span><i style="font-weight: bold;"><span style="color: blue;">Fanatical Tidying, Organizing, or Not! " 5/15/20</span>,</i><span style="font-family: inherit;"> and as the weather improved, gardening, <b><i><span style="color: blue;">"</span></i></b></span><span style="color: blue;"><b><i>Pandemic Planting"</i></b> 5/16/20.</span><br />
<span style="color: #222222;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">For awhile, when we thought the pandemic would be short lived, we had special celebratory days. I decorated, we dressed up in costumes, and it was fun. Eventually, my poor hubby got tired of my silliness and I got sick of all the work involved, so we've put everything on a hiatus. It's only </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">temporary, so shhhhh...don't tell.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">First we celebrated the Blue Jays no home opener day this year. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;"> We w</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">ore our fan gear and ate hot dogs, fries, and other ballpark delicacies. Next came Maritime fish Fryday...self explanatory, but who knew I had an Anne of Green Gables outfit and would dress hubby as a fisherman in his yellow slicker?</span><br />
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Then, after hearing everyone complaining about the length of their hair, it became time for a little haircutting fun. <br />
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Hobbies have managed to take on a new life. First, I painted a bookcase (details in blog <span style="color: blue;"><i>"Now I Am An Old Purple Woman" </i></span><span style="background-color: #fff9e7;"><span style="color: blue;"><i>5/29/20)</i></span>. The stool was an old rickety unpainted wreck. Now, it's an old rickety, weirdly painted wreck. I'll never be a Picasso, but I'm having fun. The easel has seen a few of my efforts.</span><br />
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I recently wallpapered the laundry room, practiced piano, and reverse tie dyed a shirt (blog yet to come). I've also managed to make a dent in the pile of books I've been meaning to read.<br />
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Perhaps it's all been time well spent after all. At least that's what I'll tell myself.<br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">There are countless jokes on the internet about the coronavirus, and this calendar year. There are comments about unused day planners, and those who say that 2020 doesn't count and we're really not a year older. I fear that I will be at least a year older before all this is over. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After I saw a rather humorous meme from Aunty Acid using the </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> movie "Groundhog Day", I now no longer hear the</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Carpenters' song </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">"It's Yesterday Once More" in the morning. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Instead, I've started waking</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> up to "I've Got You Babe".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></span>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-28595112849284119342020-06-12T20:20:00.003-04:002020-06-12T20:20:58.190-04:00Cool Tip I Learned in My Old Age<br />
I can't imagine where the world would be without youtube videos to show us how to do anything and everything nowadays. It's especially useful during our current self isolation.<br />
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My daughter has become an expert at crochet. I have not as yet been quite as ambitious, although I have learned some new things. Who says you can't teach an old dog new tricks?<br />
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This morning, hubby opened the cereal cupboard and laughed when he saw this.<br />
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Why had nobody told me about this before? This is brilliant. I'm tired of ripped lids, and half open boxes, particularly cereal boxes.<br />
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I found a video on youtube that showed how to close a cereal box. Since I was tired of shredded, half open lids, I thought I'd try it. <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhEHnIypRM0">https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FhEHnIypRM0</a><br />
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The first box was rather large, and I was unsuccessful, although, I was able to get it sealed enough that all I needed to add was a clip and it still looked neat.<br />
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Next, I attempted a smaller box. Wow... it worked.<br />
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Before long, my cereal cupboard was organized. I had managed to seal all the rest of the boxes as in the video. Another unnecessary pandemic self isolation project completed. </div>
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Here's a repeat of how for those who haven't seen the video.</div>
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Step 1 - Close inside waxed paper containing cereal. Then, at the top of the box, fold in one large lid and two small end ones.<br />
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Step 2 - Bend small end portions of box to from a V shape which points to the inside of the box.<br />
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Step 3- Tuck the other large lid in on the far side of the V's against the first large lid.<br />
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Fantastic!<br />
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Amazing isn't it how these small efforts and successes keep us amused during the current health crisis?</div>
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Someone told me there's a hack to seal potato chip bags as well, to which I asked, "Who actually has partial potato chip bags?" Anyhow, I shall leave that little trick for someone else to post.</div>
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Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-54173615964778116432020-06-10T16:57:00.001-04:002020-06-16T12:56:39.505-04:00Cinnamon RollsAs I mentioned before, this was never meant to be a cooking or baking blog, but alas. Facebook has been inundating me, and probably everyone else with recipes. I wonder what makes them think we all have time to cook and bake? You'd think there was a pandemic, and we were all bored while sitting around at home. Having said that, I must admit, I've looked at some of the recipe offerings and I've even tried a few.<br />
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Today, I made easy, healthier, crock pot chicken and dumplings thanks to Allrecipes.com. It was a pretty good lunch. Then, I made some zucchini pancakes, and the following cinnamon rolls.<br />
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I'm sharing this method of making cinnamon rolls, which I discovered under the heading "Newfoundland Recipes" because it was incredibly easy, quick, and delicious. Although I'm certain most people in my age group have probably made variations of cinnamon rolls before, I haven't...until now. I suppose I always thought the process to be much more complex.<br />
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I will share the recipe here, and what I learned. I absolutely would do several things differently, having completed this once. In fact, I think it would only take one more batch to perfect these. Now if only someone would eat up all of the first platter so that I could make more.<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Dough</span></u></b><br />
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2 cups flour<br />
1/2 cup shortening<br />
1 cup milk<br />
1 tablespoon baking powder<br />
1/2 tsp. salt<br />
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Mix ingredients together and roll out on lightly floured surface.<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Filling</span></u></b><br />
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Mix together -<br />
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1/4 cup melted butter<br />
2 teaspoons cinnamon<br />
1/2 cup brown sugar (I used brown sugar substitute for part of this)<br />
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<b><span style="color: blue;">***</span><u><span style="font-size: large;">What I learned</span></u></b> - I would probably add nuts or raisins to this filling next time. Also, do not spread filling too close to edge because it oozes out while baking.<br />
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Spread filling onto rolled out dough.<br />
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<span style="text-align: left;">Now, here's another of my regrets. I rolled up the dough lengthwise until it looked like the rolling pin. I suppose I was afraid it would get too thick. Next time, I will roll it in the other direction. The buns need to be a bit bigger than what I made. Also, I cut one inch slices. I found them to be too small. So, in my opinion, thicker and fatter is better.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlyjQfzaTWXod-eE3nhdnAHRLhj7GH1h5iXM8KG6RBkjPQ93BJwkTrFhOg4FIXD2mPGWtNARgqTLJSl31b_mkuNz6EjpxnGlAKqQikYhNvDgMluAvJXkaQtqJ6YmRxb3ypWFUID8cz2U/s1600/rolls4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="831" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXlyjQfzaTWXod-eE3nhdnAHRLhj7GH1h5iXM8KG6RBkjPQ93BJwkTrFhOg4FIXD2mPGWtNARgqTLJSl31b_mkuNz6EjpxnGlAKqQikYhNvDgMluAvJXkaQtqJ6YmRxb3ypWFUID8cz2U/s320/rolls4.jpg" width="276" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OdEsQyoZvzsv_bX2rZBeo18qWj0gVLf9tEmG5ySjvxHRBnNBmuuqZJuROA6ELPTs6pS2XQFbwlGGLQME9nQPeu3kZy0yeAy0xdU91BsWjCtOLTYMyrljIP5k4sXSMx0ro3CYkzo-rEY/s1600/rolls3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="630" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-OdEsQyoZvzsv_bX2rZBeo18qWj0gVLf9tEmG5ySjvxHRBnNBmuuqZJuROA6ELPTs6pS2XQFbwlGGLQME9nQPeu3kZy0yeAy0xdU91BsWjCtOLTYMyrljIP5k4sXSMx0ro3CYkzo-rEY/s320/rolls3.jpg" width="208" /></a></div>
Place on parchment lined cookie sheet but not too close together. They do tend to get middle age spread. Bake at 350F for 20-30 minutes until they are lightly browned and done looking (not at you but done looking <u>to you</u>...as in not raw).<br />
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After you bring them out of the oven, brush on glaze while rolls are still warm.<br />
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<b><u><span style="font-size: large;">Glaze</span></u></b><br />
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1 cup icing sugar<br />
2 tblsp. milk<br />
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So here they are...my first attempt. Not pretty, but very delicious.<br />
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Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-21941967636219243472020-06-04T18:00:00.001-04:002020-06-05T12:40:01.310-04:00Empire Cookies...a favourite<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b><u>Empire Cookies</u></b></div>
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<b><u><br /></u></b></div>
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From
what I’ve read, empire cookies originated in Germany and are a form
of linzer cookie (the ones with the cut out on top and various jams
inside). Later they were adopted in other countries in various forms,
but they are basically supposed to look like a little crown. </div>
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<br /></div>
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This is one of my favourite simple cookies. I use the same cookie dough recipe for special holidays. I cut them out with seasonal cookie cutters, and decorate accordingly. In this case, I don’t double them up and I make the individual cookies a bit thicker. </div>
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Basically, these are
a sugar cookie and pretty easy. My original recipe
came from Canadian Living, but I have made some adaptations as
necessary over the years and they're my "go to" emergency cookie.</div>
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I prefer smaller cookies, because I’m
a dainty person, and because after the effort, I want them to
last for a few minutes before they all get eaten. I think that most recipes are similar, and
when I google the photos, most look like mine.</div>
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<br /></div>
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The
last time I made these cookies was in Atlanta, Christmas 2019 while visiting my daughter. I
worked with what I had because there was no rolling pin, and none were
available at stores. In the words of one sales person, “What do you use
those for?” </div>
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<br /></div>
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We did manage to find a vast array of cookie cutters on
sale and there was one which I found suitable, roundish with wiggly
edges, although regular round, or a small juice glass will work as well.</div>
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<b><u>Ingredients</u> </b> </div>
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1/2 cup butter, softened </div>
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1/2 cup sugar
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1 egg </div>
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1 tsp. vanilla </div>
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<span style="text-decoration: none;">2
cups flour </span></div>
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1 tsp. baking powder </div>
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<u><b>Filling & Topping</b></u></div>
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<div style="line-height: 16px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
raspberry jam (for inside cookie)</div>
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1 cup icing sugar</div>
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1/4 tsp. almond extract</div>
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2 tsp. hot water approx. (add more by drops if necessary)</div>
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maraschino or candied
cherries</div>
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<u><b> </b></u><u><b>Directions</b></u><u> </u>
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Cream butter and sugar
together until smooth. Beat in egg and vanilla. Combine flour and
baking powder and add gradually to creamed mixture. On a lightly
floured surface, roll out dough quite thin because, don’t forget
they get doubled. Cut into rounds. Place on parchment paper or
ungreased baking sheet.
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<b>Hint</b> - I usually use a large cafeteria type tray to sprinkle flour and roll out the dough. This saves a lot of mess, and clean up later.</div>
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Bake 325 for about 7-10 minutes
for small, or 10 minutes if you made larger ones. My oven runs hot. Don’t let them
get brown...just a bit at the edges. Let cool. Spread half the
cookies with raspberry jam.</div>
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Combine icing sugar, almond
extract and enough water for a thin icing...start with less and add
lest it get too runny. Frost tops of cookies. Put a small piece of
cherry on top. I usually cut about 3 or 4 cherries into bits and dry
them on a paper towel (not drying them will make the red bleed into
the icing). Size of cookie cutter determines how many you get. I
usually have a couple dozen.</div>
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What
can I say...no rolling pin? Use a liquor bottle. Only problem is that
it’s hard to get the dough really smooth and even harder to get all
the dough off the bottle.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRgw5jXhBnrfnWR-023BjRWnZ_juSpjDU5OswDtDThiW2L-tsoqoRSy-JAYoND6v80nJnhhrne_nB5nO5OGbgFPuKLP_5WSt0xHcOiTp80IxSzlI0ORJIEbcMXLZjqIzWMShyphenhyphen08fptIg/s1600/101889553_10157821204043889_5868329132101730304_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="466" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuRgw5jXhBnrfnWR-023BjRWnZ_juSpjDU5OswDtDThiW2L-tsoqoRSy-JAYoND6v80nJnhhrne_nB5nO5OGbgFPuKLP_5WSt0xHcOiTp80IxSzlI0ORJIEbcMXLZjqIzWMShyphenhyphen08fptIg/s320/101889553_10157821204043889_5868329132101730304_o.jpg" width="153" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAcbEFiGqG7yjHa53WXn_H0J6EWoqhM6dKhF6ESFgbuutKxYrSDYhNWOQJD_MfL5BqNpZaUo6qhrHWS6XLWumx3SHf3I-X4DEFkrJ-eP6ViCq9Bk2-nhhzB_8_gqaubRql3wexUh_Sew/s1600/101837750_10157821203628889_5057913926272942080_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="466" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZAcbEFiGqG7yjHa53WXn_H0J6EWoqhM6dKhF6ESFgbuutKxYrSDYhNWOQJD_MfL5BqNpZaUo6qhrHWS6XLWumx3SHf3I-X4DEFkrJ-eP6ViCq9Bk2-nhhzB_8_gqaubRql3wexUh_Sew/s320/101837750_10157821203628889_5057913926272942080_o.jpg" width="153" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXDfc8Be-xH2ISAiAymkq-cx8cbp4Uixuhs6tVUWCZ_nbtUFfH9BxpvugI8joOIacLwTZy3SfHDuK71jPUocepCDOG8DWUp_uRTiNMAL63ch3bwiq-HCbGp5cQ-WyjTWBTV_kAoSkXwE/s1600/102389590_10157821203838889_3315716736786890752_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="466" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnXDfc8Be-xH2ISAiAymkq-cx8cbp4Uixuhs6tVUWCZ_nbtUFfH9BxpvugI8joOIacLwTZy3SfHDuK71jPUocepCDOG8DWUp_uRTiNMAL63ch3bwiq-HCbGp5cQ-WyjTWBTV_kAoSkXwE/s320/102389590_10157821203838889_3315716736786890752_o.jpg" width="153" /></a></div>
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I'm not too fussy so they never look perfect. They still taste the same. </div>
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<br />Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-49278208835351750222020-06-02T09:49:00.001-04:002020-06-02T09:53:55.421-04:00Pandemic Pancakes - Easy Peasy<br />
I had forgotten about these very simple pancakes. I made them for myself this morning when my breakfast chef was not available.<br />
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Many years ago, I belonged to a diet group (Insert name of any diet group here. I've belonged to them all.) I remember getting this pancake recipe. It's ridiculously simple, delicious, and filling. They're especially great if you don't have, or don't want to use flour, baking powder, or sugar.<br />
<br />
The beauty of these is that the content is easily measurable in calories, protein, carbs, and fruit. There's no added sugar.<br />
<br />
If you have a blender, it makes a more smooth pancake, but it's not essential. Basically, just toss all these ingredients together.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_H217q5HXGs_BmOojnMeGyBNjztL4ZY5HnxHVOP8Dvgzd2if4QM-pE_wmgLQVhIjqXZRgxNc29gKQ2ROdzqNKcw_A07YTQvKJlBKH-pDNIkhr4U-k4SssUl0CtFQVN6cozR8BBcrvgPE/s1600/pancakes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="761" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_H217q5HXGs_BmOojnMeGyBNjztL4ZY5HnxHVOP8Dvgzd2if4QM-pE_wmgLQVhIjqXZRgxNc29gKQ2ROdzqNKcw_A07YTQvKJlBKH-pDNIkhr4U-k4SssUl0CtFQVN6cozR8BBcrvgPE/s320/pancakes.jpg" width="248" /></a><u><br /></u><br />
<u>Ingredients </u> (makes 2 medium or one large)<br />
<u><br /></u>
1 egg <span style="color: red;"><b> 80 calories</b></span><br />
1 slice bread (any kind you like, I used thin sliced) <span style="color: red;"><b>70 calories</b></span><br />
1/2 banana (good use for any that are starting to darken) <b><span style="color: red;">45 calories</span></b><br />
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract<br />
cinnamon if you wish<br />
<br />
<span style="color: red; font-weight: bold;">Total calories for a substantial breakfast 195 . </span>I find these pancakes<br />
to be quite sweet and moist enough on their own, but if you prefer to top them with a bit of syrup, honey, agave, or a dusting of powdered sugar, be sure to consider the extra sugar and calories.<br />
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If doubling the recipe, just use another slice of bread and another half banana. I have never used a second egg, but have added a splash of milk if the mixture looks too dry.<br />
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<u>Directions</u><br />
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If using a blender, put egg and banana into blender and mix. Tear bread into a few pieces and add it along with vanilla. Blend briefly until smooth. Pour onto a pan as in photo. (I used a tiny amount of spray olive oil to cook).<br />
<br />
Recipe as I wrote it made 2 medium sized pancakes or if you prefer, one large.<br />
<br />
If you don't have or don't want to use a blender, mash the banana and whisk<br />
together with egg and vanilla. Break bread into very small pieces and add to banana and egg . Mix together. Pour into pan. If there are small pieces of undissolved bread, it's not really a problem.<br />
<br />
I hope you enjoy them. I did.<br />
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<br />Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-72183111061725243702020-05-31T20:39:00.005-04:002020-05-31T20:39:59.466-04:00More Covid Organization Projects<br />
I'm beginning to wonder whether the things we do while we are in self isolation are actually essential, something we would have done sooner if we'd had the time, or if they are just make work projects to keep us busy.<br />
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At our house, we have a fair sized pantry filled with quite a few canned goods. I thought it might be a good idea to take inventory of the contents. I was afraid that some items had been there for awhile and would get outdated or remain unused when new products are bought. I made an inventory which I soon decided was not an efficient way to keep track. I listed how many of each item there was, then changed the numbers as the cans were used...messy.<br />
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After a short time, I decided to sort out the contents of our jelly cupboard as well. Same issues as the pantry. In fact, you might say there are more pantry type items stored in the jelly cupboard<br />
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I came up with a better plan. After creating the chart, with enough boxes in each direction, I put an <b>/ </b>for each thing we already have. I taped the charts to the inside of the cupboard doors. As the<br />
products are used, we will put a line through and end up with something like an x. That's the theory. There's space to add to the list at the bottom. I have left a conspicuous pen to be sure that what's used is crossed off. Essential or make work project? So far, it's working well and I like it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpvkQgd6o3cyURFVk9O8-A4qhS9ERlIF2HLV-EIqzYqDwdSUPg5TUdiEGrEIh5fWDhKAyLgVphk7iKRMH80FKDjjgfYYcpl2kJerc0nKSQMkNVmBh5waj47l-78vEligPx0gw27jD5NE/s1600/101374136_10157805402738889_1555178370499608576_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="321" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEpvkQgd6o3cyURFVk9O8-A4qhS9ERlIF2HLV-EIqzYqDwdSUPg5TUdiEGrEIh5fWDhKAyLgVphk7iKRMH80FKDjjgfYYcpl2kJerc0nKSQMkNVmBh5waj47l-78vEligPx0gw27jD5NE/s640/101374136_10157805402738889_1555178370499608576_o.jpg" width="204" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXhPqM1_IYs-LT_vNTOpdG1G5IsMP3dGA55M2vC9yoBeDL9WdpGNaSZ7Jy06BnhspB7qfVWHHX3g3hDYZlujNDwjUzHPvLknl-lN6hni2WlhtPmWfkngNJIYHB9yX2q89UV79iw3nnEY/s1600/100900974_10157805402508889_1006964497115512832_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="466" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKXhPqM1_IYs-LT_vNTOpdG1G5IsMP3dGA55M2vC9yoBeDL9WdpGNaSZ7Jy06BnhspB7qfVWHHX3g3hDYZlujNDwjUzHPvLknl-lN6hni2WlhtPmWfkngNJIYHB9yX2q89UV79iw3nnEY/s640/100900974_10157805402508889_1006964497115512832_o.jpg" width="304" /></a></div>
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I also decided to do something about my jewelry. I found a hanging holder which was formerly my daughter's. I'm sure she's forgotten it exists since she's no longer even in the country. I hung it on my bedroom wall near the closet. How sensible. Now I can see my earrings and perhaps even use some of them instead of wearing the same ones every day. I also found a hanger type jewelry holder that I'd forgotten about, in my basement. I've owned it for a long time but, like so many other things, it was just sitting idle. It has a clothes hanger and is two sided...brilliant. It will store costume jewelry and larger items...eighty in total. The concept of "shopping your house" is becoming more and more handy for me these days.<br />
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I decided that whatever I don't wear/use in the next year, will be disposed of. The left holder looks pretty good on the wall. The one on the right, once filled will go into the closet and hang with my clothing.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhC5DaUvQk5xQyrLgTxonamaKtZqVPtThgEHOFEznRKYtk2Gmd6siA1yk-BmcXXMeaGBZbg1nd6_oQzyRGpmkXuHZbBzQzSNIHCh7SES0DnPy40i0P9Iwx6SXX4Z3iiM0paXE8ng4VLQc/s1600/jew.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="466" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhC5DaUvQk5xQyrLgTxonamaKtZqVPtThgEHOFEznRKYtk2Gmd6siA1yk-BmcXXMeaGBZbg1nd6_oQzyRGpmkXuHZbBzQzSNIHCh7SES0DnPy40i0P9Iwx6SXX4Z3iiM0paXE8ng4VLQc/s640/jew.jpg" width="304" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8z62AqZ3dJjypjB2Q2kteOJ7ylULImxc37RYzShwKrK2wmh1EvPv_q9YUjc0vOqAKf31usA0sXMyefbnXnFm0hnTuF69KQc9lXFzvlnlFTJZBwMBsYuHXUPtLgeiF76zkdtvTwxAZjwA/s1600/jewellry.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="390" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8z62AqZ3dJjypjB2Q2kteOJ7ylULImxc37RYzShwKrK2wmh1EvPv_q9YUjc0vOqAKf31usA0sXMyefbnXnFm0hnTuF69KQc9lXFzvlnlFTJZBwMBsYuHXUPtLgeiF76zkdtvTwxAZjwA/s640/jewellry.jpg" width="259" /></a><br />
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My next project will be an attempt to deal with shoes. I have not as yet figured out a perfect storage solution. I've tried see through shoe boxes, boxes with photos on the outside, racks, and hanging organizers. All of these take up space which I don't have. It leads me to think that perhaps I just need to downsize. Alas, I'll miss my multitudinous Birkenstocks. On the other hand, as the expressions goes, "How many shoes can you wear at a time?"<br />
Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8720986555598561785.post-45509669549012008202020-05-29T20:58:00.002-04:002020-05-29T20:58:43.127-04:00Now I Am An Old Purple Woman<span id="yui_3_10_0_1_1590518896232_121" style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">Many people are familiar with the poem, "Warning" by Jenny Joseph which begins, "When I am an old woman I shall wear purple</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">." Essentially, she suggests that when people are older, they don't care as much about what others think of them. They have the freedom to do as they please, without feeling the need to impress others. I believe this to be true. She also suggests that some people should be a bit quirky before they become old, so that nobody will think them odd later in life. It doesn't work. People still think I'm odd, but alas, I don't care that much about what they think. So clearly, Joseph has a point. </span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "helvetica" , "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">This week, I was busy. We had an old brown bookcase in the garage. Why does most furniture have to be brown anyhow? During one of my energetic moments, I decided to paint it, so that it could be placed the bedroom. I wanted my impossible pile of books to be organized enough that they could be shelved, and hopefully read. I knew I wouldn't offend anyone who has issues with the painting of wood, since this shelf was made of </span><span style="color: blue; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">***</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">chipboard photo-paper. </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">After a trip to Home Depot, I learned that I needed to use </span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;">primer, then cover with two paint coats. What colour was I going to pick? </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVZvsBp-nyYuNQDdfwOSj76NXY_tFCE7M1C1yUyY7uhxfJiQwr2ktnfwCvk8DhAnReDNWeswUCG47L08GQsJtNmvueJIB90C9eXogmhIaRIKB04hr7y3CqloY3lMdns1XOHbTqDiOMLI/s1600/bookcase.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="685" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTVZvsBp-nyYuNQDdfwOSj76NXY_tFCE7M1C1yUyY7uhxfJiQwr2ktnfwCvk8DhAnReDNWeswUCG47L08GQsJtNmvueJIB90C9eXogmhIaRIKB04hr7y3CqloY3lMdns1XOHbTqDiOMLI/s200/bookcase.jpg" width="140" /></a></div>
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After careful consideration, I decided to paint my bookcase purple to add some life to the room. Back in <span style="background-color: white; font-family: "helvetica neue", helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;"><span style="color: blue;"><b>9/23/11 "Missing Blogs...Updated Digs" </b></span>I redid the bedroom in shades of green and aubergine, and although some changes have taken place since then, the basic colours have remained the same. I like them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: helvetica neue, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;">The whole time I was using the purple paint, I was reminded of the children's story, "Harold and the Purple Crayon". I wondered how it would look if I sketched and painted Harold on the side of my shelf. At no point did I care what people might think about this odd childlike shelf showing up in a bedroom. On the other hand, not many would see it and it would probably bring me joy.</span></span><br />
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Although I had some issues with the paint adhering without lifting off the photo paper (not sure if the primer preparation was correct), I eventually succeeded in completing the additions to my satisfaction. I protected it with varathane, and it was done...night time appropriate with moon and stars.<br />
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My books are now stacked and the room makes me happy. The colour breaks up the boredom of the rest of the brown furnishings.<br />
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Earlier on, when I was doing the priming, I decided to also coat a rocking chair which I had retrieved from a neighbour's trash. There wasn't much wrong with it except that a dog had chewed part of the seat at the back. Wood purists of the world might take issue with me. When I turned the rocker over, I was surprised to make some discoveries. Still, it will become my next art project.<br />
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Although I'm not yet certain how I will complete the chair, I do know one thing for sure. It will not be purple.<br />
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<b style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: blue;"> ***</span></b><span style="background-color: white;">Chipboard photo-paper shelf - No real wood was harmed in the painting of this bookcase.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span>Hildehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00747788337417481049noreply@blogger.com0