Thursday, March 31, 2005
My Tech Man
Yesterday I called my ‘Tech man’ to come up for a brief visit to install the new Canon Pixma IP 3000 printer and plug in all the cables I accidentally unplugged trying to find a place to add it.
My expertise at installation sucks big time. Every time I need something fixed I haul my ‘Tech man’ over a hundred miles into the wilds of Otisville to soothe my savage beast (the fear of breaking expensive shit that I don’t understand!).
So as I threw a Schwann’s Dinner in and Jay sat and talk with Anne, the ‘Tech man’ worked his magic updating both the computers to accept the new printer. So thank you SEB for coming to my rescue again!
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Growl!
This so says what I feel I want to do right now. So many delays in trying to get the hubby on the mend. I sometimes wonder how he can face day after day waiting without losing his grip, but he does. I know we will be able to get on with our life soon so I smile, fold my hands (so I can’t wring them) and continue with my routine.
Thank you Sally and Pam for the image!
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Love Bein’ Southern!
Having been a Jenkins for 17 1/2 years this kinda hit a soft spot in my heart and my head!
So for your enjoyment ( thanks to my friend Edna) here is:
Only a Southerner knows the difference between a hissie fit and a conniption fit, and that you don’t “HAVE” them, you “PITCH” them!
Only a Southerner knows how many fish, collard greens, turnip greens, peas, beans, etc., make up “a mess.”
Only a Southerner can show or point out to you the general direction of “yonder.”
Only a Southerner knows exactly how long “directly” is—as in: “Going to town, be back directly.”
Even Southern babies know that “Gimme some sugar” is not a request for the white, granular sweet substance that sits in a pretty little bowl in the middle of the table.
All Southerners know exactly when “by and by” is. They might not use the term, but they know the concept well.
They also know that “just down the road” can be 1 mile or 20.
Only a Southerner both knows and understands the difference between a redneck, a good ol’ boy, and po’white trash.
No true Southerner would ever assume that the car with the flashing turn signal is actually going to make a turn.
A Southerner knows that “fixin” can be used as a noun, a verb, or an adverb.
Only Southerners make friends while standing in lines. We don’t do “queues,” we do “lines”; and when we’re “in line,” we talk to everybody!
Southerners never refer to one person as “ya’ll.”
Southerners know grits come from corn and how to eat them.
Every Southerner knows tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; and that fried green tomatoes are NOT a breakfast food.
When you hear someone say, “Well, I caught myself lookin’,” you know you are in the presence of a genuine Southerner!
Only true Southerners say “sweet tea” and “sweet milk.” Sweet tea indicates the need for sugar and lots of it—we do not like our tea unsweetened. “Sweet milk” means you don’t want buttermilk.
A true Southerner knows you don’t scream obscenities at little old ladies who drive 30 MPH on the freeway. You just say, “Bless her heart” and go your own way.
To those of you who’re still a little embarrassed by your Southerness: Take two tent revivals and a dose of sausage gravy and call me in the morning. Bless your heart!
And to those of you who are still having a hard time understanding all this Southern stuff, bless your hearts, I hear they are fixin’ to have classes on Southernness as a second language!
And for those that are not from the South but have lived here for a long time, ya’ll need a sign to hang on ya’lls front porch that reads “I aint from the South but I got here as fast as I could.”
Monday, March 28, 2005
Break Time
The bedroom, living and dining room areas have all been vacumned. The utility and bathroom have been mopped leaving only the kitchen on the main floor to be done. I shooed Jay out on the back deck for some sunshine and fresh air. The birds are moved to the french doors in the dining room to catch some sunshine too. The plants are in the bay window--same reason! so now I sit and visit with Dof, Mrs. Dof, Cindy, SEB, and college George. I checked the other Jenkinsonline but nobody is home! So enough lolly gagging around I have lunch to make and a kithcen floor to mop.
Tomorrow it is the appointment with the heart surgeon so maybe we will get this show on the road. Wish us luck!
Saturday, March 26, 2005
70 Years Makes Darwin Award Material!
Started out a good day. I managed last night to convert my calorie list to include carbs in preparation for receiving two new books on counting carbs. It was after 2 AM when I finally went to bed. Which of course meant a later start this morning.
I finally got the morning routine finished and went outside to work a while. I raked the flower beds in between the extentions on the dome and smile to myself as I saw the shoots heralding the arrival soon of the spring flowers. Also to reaffirm the season my first robin appeared in the side yard.
I was busy picking up the debris and I put it in the little trailer that I hooked behind the garden tractor. I made a couple of trips down behind the shed to unload and decided to get my grab-it and police the yard for small branches and limbs.
Everything was going fine so I thought it was time to drag a large limb back to the pile that had been laying down front for a couple of months.
I stopped the tractor on a slight incline and got off to tie onto the the limb. About the time I went to climb back on to start the tractor back up it started to roll down the incline. Now I had one foot over the machine but the left foot was still on the ground. I couldn’t reach the brake and the back wheel rolled up over the back of my shoe and I couldn’t get my foot free.
I remembered I had my car keys in my pocket and grabbed the door opener and pressed the emergency horn button. All this time I am half off the tractor my left foot trapped in front of the back tractor wheel. Luckily Jay heard the horn and came to the door to see what was wrong. I called to him to come and help me. He still can’t see very much but he managed to find me, put the brake on the machine, and help me free my foot.
I then got on the tractor and hauled that damn limb to the pile out back. I’m sure the back of my heel and leg will probably be sore in the morning but I didn’t break any thing so I feel fortunate. Man I got to remember that 70 years makes Darwin Award material!
Friday, March 25, 2005
Flag Time
It is flag time again. Our flag is a bit of light hearted humor.
I look at the gray skies, the snow and the temperature and wonder how there ever was an Easter parade. The patent leather shoes, the frilly socks, the fancy frock, and the Easter bonnet with the flowers and ribbons streaming down the back. Then the young ‘men’ in their little suits, the white or pastel shirts, and their little bow ties cut just as big a flair as the the girls do.
Now with all my children grown and gone even the egg hunt and baskets have disappeared. I envy you with young children at Easter and the other holidays. The traditions seem to fade away when the children leave home. So enjoy these days because soon you will sit and wonder where those happy times went!
Birds
Oh every year hath it’s winter
And every (year) hath it’s rain.
But a day is always coming
When the birds fly North again.
Oh every heart hath it’s pain
But the day is always coming
When the girls fly North again.
From Mabel Ribble’s Journal
1901
Thursday, March 24, 2005
Pussy Willow
From the Journal Of Mabel Ribble dated March 28, 1901. ( Keep in mind this was when grass was in the lawn, weed was what came up in between the carrots in the garden, and to be gay was to be happy.) I have typed it as my grandmother had written it.
PUSSY WILLOW
The bark on the Pussy is reddish brown.
The inside bark is pale green.
Inside the green bark is the wood and inside the wood is the heart.
The buds are flat and red at first then they are black and shaped like a niger toe nut.
I find a scare where the stem of the old leaf was.
The Pussy Willow comes out of the top of the door.
My Pussy is white and gray with red spots on.
My pussy is about half way out.
The brown scale is on to keep the Pussy warm.
It is pointed so the rain will run off.
Pussy Willow
Pussy Willow wakened
From her winter’s nap,
For the frolic breezes
On her door did tap.
April 9, 1901
My pussy is full grown now.
They are gray and black.
The scale is almost ready to fall off.
My pussies are all the way out now.
They will soon fall off.
The scale is black.
The scare is yellow.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Hands Down!
She reached for a cup and stopped. Her hand hung, outstretched in midair.
“Oh no”, she said.
The fear in her voice put an instant chill in the air. I wondered if she had seen a mouse or worse yet a spider, a big, hairy spider that had spun a web around all the coffee cups and millions of baby spiders were now crawling all over.
I prepared to run.
“Look at my hand,” she said.
Oh no, maybe a spider was on her hand. How could she hold still?
I looked--no spider. She’d had a recent manicure and her nails looked nice. Not overdone, just lovely. No visible cuts or bruises, no blood. I was stumped.
“I don’t see anything,” I said. “What’s wrong?”
“My hands,” she said. “Look at my hands.”
Her voice trembled, her hands shook. She obviously was upset.
“These are not my hands, she said.
OK, apparently my friend was having a nervous breakdown, and I showed up for tea in time to be a witness.
“These are my grandma’s hands,” she said.
Whew. Now I get it.
Worried that she might have a complete nervous breakdown, I suggested she sit down, and I fixed tea--without laughing.
This is serious stuff.
You can have lifts of every sort--face, brow, eye. You can inflate a sagging bossom, and
perk up a derriere, but hands are often a dead giveaway to the reality that time marches on despite our best efforts.
In scientific terms, she’s middle-aged. Average life expectancy as determined by Harvard Medical School is 77.6 years. Women sometimes get five extra years.
My friend is young in a not-so-young sort of way. While she enjoys watchinf MTV’s “Punk’d” and Comedy Central’s “South Park,” she’s old enough to remember “ The Brady Bunch"and “Hogan’s Heroes”.
She also remembers those old Ivory commericals ("Tough on grease, easy on hands") that featured two beautiful women standing next to each other showing off their hands. The viewer was asked to look at the women’s hands and guess, “Which one is the mother and which is the daughter?”
My friend’s hands weren’t that bad, but she knows what’s coming.
Despite the manicures, despite an ocean of hand lotion, there comes a time when nothing can stop the ravaging effects of sun and age.
Dark spots show up first.
“ I thought they were moles”, she moaned.
Knuckles are more pronounced--slightly red or darker than the surrounding skin. Veins rise up like rivers of blue, swollen from spring rain.
Then one morning she reached for a coffee cup and found her grandmother’s hands at the end of her arms.
This article, entitled “ Hands down, aging is scary prospect” was written by Brenda Brissette Mata, columnist for The Flint Journal. It appeared on Friday March 18th.
The content hit very close to home so I thought I would share!
Tuesday, March 22, 2005
Morning Sunshine!
What a glorious morning --what a surprise.
The sunshine bright did greet my eyes.
My mood, it lightened--something I needed.
No gray clouds or worries to be heeded!
My cat, Molly. climbed up on the sill.
To bask in the sunshine and get her fill.
For she like I wanted winter to end.
We were tired of snow being our friend.
Red Wing Blackbirds now have arrived.
The tiny sprouts prove they have survived.
All these signs--how long will they stay?
Can’t really tell--but I’ll enjoy the day!