Remembering Green Stamps

Recently on my friend Gena's blog, www.thehouseonlavenderhill.blogspot.com , she was blogging about our tv houses. There were plenty of votes, but was it really surprising that so many of us picked the Brady Bunch House?

One of my favorite episodes was "54 40 or Fight." The time was the late 1960's, early 1970's and the Bradys are sad to find out that their trading stamp redemption center is about to close. The girls have been saving the stamps, but the boys didn't know. And of course, the boys have been saving the stamps, but the girls didn't know. Now with the redemption center closing, the Brady's need to redeem the those stamps, pronto!

The boys want a rowboat, the girls want a sewing machine. Neither group has enough stamps on their own to get what they really want, and neither side wants to compromise. The answer to this dilemna, build a card house. Who ever knocks the house down loses the stamps.

Thanks to Tiger the dog, the girls won and head to the redemption center for their new sewing machine, but come home with a portable color tv that they can all enjoy.

Ahhh!!!

As I've said many times, I really miss the customer loyalty programs like S and H Green Stamps and Plaid Stamps.

I remember going grocery shopping with my parents and them being handed a few pages of stamps after paying for their groceries. To my eyes, it looked like a bonanza and that we could get whatever we wanted from the premium catalog right away.

My mother took it in stride, and when we got home, she would put the stamps into the bread drawer that every 1960's kitchen used to have.

Every so often, Mom would take a night after us kids were in bed, and sit at the kitchen table with her sponge top water bottle and put stamps into the books. Once, around Christmas, when our family had grown to seven, Mom even allowed me to put the precious stamps into the stamp book. What a show of confidence!!! I was nervous doing it, wondering if I really was capable, but still so proud.

And the premiums were top of the line! Mom used the stamps to buy my first, and only, doll house and I suspect many other Christmas gifts. I know that appliances like electric hair curlers, dryers and toasters were all offered, as well as pretty dishes and serving pieces.

Today I found out that S and H Greenstamps have grown along with the times. They are available for online shopping and called Green Points now. I had trouble with the site, but if you purchase over the web often, it might be worth checking out.

Summers Over

Summer is over. I feel cheated. Just as my garden was ripening and looking like I was going to have a nice bounty of vegetables, Hurricane Irene blew in. We didn't get a whole lot of rain, but we did get a great amount of twisting winds. It snapped my egg plant, it tore out my cucumbers and zucchini plants, and just generally beat on my tomatoes. So my summer bounty was mostly tomatoes.

We thought the Russian Black tomatoes were neat to have in our garden, but the taste was really nothing to write home about. The heritage pinks were good, but the best tomatoes were the paste tomatoes we got for free!

I planted six pumpkin seeds this year. Out of that, I got one small, perfect orange pumpkin that was rotting away on the bottom, numerous false starts that rotted away on the vine, and one 50 pound pumpkin that has so far survived.

Now if it doesn't rot or get stolen until after Halloween .......

One Hot Summer

I can't believe how hot this summer has been! Is it my imagination, or has it been one of our hottest and driest summer in a while?

It's been a great year for my growing vegetables in containers though. I don't have a real front porch, I have what is called a stoop, barely enough room for two people to stand on it at any one time. But I have paste tomatoes growing in one pot, an oriental egg plant growing next to it and a pumpkin plant in the corner sharing it's pot with a cucumber. Then I have an heirloom pink tomato plant growing, an heirloom Russian Back tomato next to that and a bunch of zucchini that I hope will slow down on the flowering and start producing some zucchini! I'm not holding out a lot of hope on the pumpkins either, since they are still flowering and I see precious few pumpkins starting - I think two.

And yet, no matter how hot or dry, I am not looking forward to winter.

Hold On!

Like the rest of America, or at least a good portion of it, I was surprised and a little angered when the verdict first came in declaring that Casey Anthony was acquitted in the murder of her daughter Caylee.
What were the jurors thinking? I wondered and a lot of people even thought that they weren't thinking, at all. In the intervening days I have come to accept that a jury found Casey Anthony innocent, or at least not enough evidence to find her guilty. Casey will be a free woman soon.
It's a hard pill to swallow, but it comes down to this, do we have an American justice system, or do we want one like other countries that find a person's guilt or innocence to the whim of the majority?
Do we want a vigilante group?
Casey has been found innocent and should be able to live her life as a free woman, without having to be afraid.


Now it's in the news that not only has Casey Anthony received death threats, but so have her parents. I will point out they were also Caylee's doting grandparents. If you watched the trial at all, you heard George Anthony being accused of absolutely disgusting and vile things. He never lost his composure, until talking about his beloved granddaughter Caylee, and that is when he broke down in tears.


Cindy lied under oath about her searching chloroform and chlorophyll to protect her daughter Casey, but it was when remembering her granddaughter Caylee that Cindy lost her composure.
These people are suffering. They have lost their granddaughter to death and who knows if they haven't lost their daughter also, after the vile accusations of this trial.

Do they really deserve to be getting death threats? Should the public be angry at them for Caylee's death?

No. I'd also like to ask, who are we the public to Caylee? What right do we have to sink into mob outrage and threaten an acquitted woman? What right do we have to make a family, and especially bereaved grandparents, who have suffered without end, since Caylee first went missing three years ago? Does it help Caylee get justice?

No. I would bet that Caylee would be upset that anyone would be making her grandparents suffer even more than they already are.

Instead of death threats, how about bringing them over a casserole, flowers or a gift certificate to a restaurant? Instead of dropping off stuffed animals that Caylee will never play with, to a soggy, snake infested wooded lot, why not donate them to a shelter in Caylee's name and send a notice of the donation to Caylee's grandparents.

Why not start a school scholarship in Caylee's name, at the school that her grandfather will never walk her to and that she will never attend.

Has anyone thought of just sending the George and Cindy Anthony a card that says simply, "I'm sorry for your loss?"

In other words, take this enormous energy, negative energy and use it to do enormous good, all in Caylee's memory.

There was a trial, and there was no conviction. And that is the way it is. Handle it by realizing justice isn't always served. Or handle it by realizing that there might be things about the trial that we the public don't know. Or handle it by repeating the mantra "what goes around, comes around." Or rest in the knowledge that we all must face God, and there is no defense lawyers, inadmissible evidence, sidebars or juries there.

America, we have got to let it go and get back to our everyday lives.

Saying Goodbye

I am feeling a little, nostalgic, I guess is the word for it. A month ago, our family had to say goodbye to our cat Sandy. As hard as you can imagine this could be, it's even harder because Sandy was the last link to a life that feels like it happened eons ago and I feel like an entire era has passed.



Way back in 2001, my son's cat Blackie disappeared. One day he was with us, and the next he was gone. We did the usual; called his name while tramping through the woods around our house, shaking the food box, putting up posters and calling the local radio station and then going to the town Animal Pound. We never saw Blackie again, and truth told, more than 10 years later, I still miss him.

But in the pound was a big, really big, tiger cat in a cage that looked totally miserable. The attendant saw me looking at the cat and told me that since she was such a big cat, they tried to get her time out of the cage every day.
There was something about the way she looked into my eyes, and I asked the attendant if I could see her. The woman was glad to oblige. "She's such a big cat, and older, so no one usually is interested."

From the cage, the cat's eyes seemed to say "Can you believe what's happened to me?"

Once out of the cage, the cat sniffed at my legs and my children's legs and walked around the other caged cats. "She used to belong to an old lady, but when the old lady died, none of the family wanted her." the attendant told me.

Within two weeks, the cat was in our home and renamed Sandy. The first day of her arrival, when I called the family into lunch, Sandy beat everyone into the kitchen, jumped into the baby's highchair at the table and politely waited.

"Hey! Where am I supposed to sit?" my youngest daughter wailed.

That night, when I went to put the middle children to bed, I found another daughter lying on top of her blankets at the foot of her bed. Sandy lay in the sweet spot made of pillow and blanket. When I questioned my daughter about the new sleeping arrangement, she informed me that Sandy would growl when she went to move her from the pillow.

"I guess now that we have Sandy, I don't get to sleep in my bed anymore." my daughter observed.

It took a while to iron out some of the wrinkles, but Sandy became a part of our family. She didn't continue to growl at the children, but would cuddle with them to watch tv and was there to console the sick and the broken hearted.

She moved with us to South Carolina,where she adjusted to the new house beautifully. She enjoyed following the warm Carolina sun as it made it's way through our house. When we moved to New York and Connecticut, she took it in stride. She was barely ruffled when we moved two more times and got a Labrador - which she kept in check with swipes of her paw.

After being with us for ten years, she developed a bump in her tail. The bump grew and she licked it bare within days. It began to bleed. The vet said it was cancer, and we opted to get her tail removed. She took that in stride too. Just when all her fur had grown back, and you could hardly tell that she'd been shaved, she began to act funny.

She wouldn't eat unless one of my daughters watched her, and even then she didn't have her usual appetite. She had more trouble jumping down from the couch, and then she had trouble jumping up on the couch. After about two days of her increasing symptoms, the worst happened. We couldn't find her at all.

Our cats are not outside cats, so I knew that she had to be around but I remembered Blackie. When he was going to die, he disappeared. I feared that Sandy was trying to disappear on us. We pulled the couch away from the wall and found her sandwiched between the wall and trying to squeeze under the couch. No sooner had we removed her, then she left the lap she was lying on and being petted, something she would never do in the past, and disappeared behind the couch.

We bought her to the vet, and he confirmed our fears; the cancer was back. Although Sandy was urinating, she wasn't moving her bowels. Sandy wasn't in pain yet, but she would be soon. The only kind thing was to euthanize her. We all cried, including our brave, strong leader who never cries.

We buried her under a spreading Japanese maple, wrapped in her favorite person's baby blanket. Our fearless leader dug the hole, making it so deep it was below the frost line, so deep no predator would try to dig her up.

Everyone cried, but I felt a hurt so deep it was almost a physical pain. The last link to my previous life is gone. Sandy was with us when we were a family of eight. And then a family of seven. Now a family of six. We were together when "our boy", because that is the way Sandy and I both saw him, marked his 21st birthday. Now that link is gone.




Life is a circle. Just as we got Blackie because MomCat had died, and Sandy because Blackie had died, we got Ivan, a cute little tiger stray, because Sandy had died. Ivan is a rambunctious kitten that will chase anything that moves, and then jump into your lap and fall fast asleep for one of his many, many kitten naps through out the day. He makes us laugh, we cuddle him, we still shed tears for Sandy.

She was truly a one-of-a-kind cat.

Why do we care so much about Caylee Anthony?

The trial of Casey Anthony has been going on for a good long while now, to say nothing of her trial in social media, which has been going on ever since a month passed with little Caylee being missing, but not reported.

It's a sad thing to comment, but this isn't the most horrific child murder to be reported. So, why do we care so much?

I don't know why others care. I can't speak for them, but for me, I think it's the very idea of a two year old being missing for a month, and not being reported. I think it's all the lies that Casey made up to cover up Caylee being missing. Caylee's grandparents seem to love her, but they can't overcome their loyalty to Casey to demand the hard answers.

It felt to me like Caylee needed an advocate.

This trial feels like a big disappointment to me. May-be I don't understand it and it is the trial of Casey Anthony, Caylee's name isn't even mentioned. And that feels wrong.

Like Caylee doesn't matter, again. She's missing even in her mother's trial.

I'd like to know, did Caylee really drown in the family pool? Then why was there duct tape wrapped around her mouth and nose?

Never mind the obvious question of why didn't George Anthony, a former police officer, perform CPR? Or call 911?

I just want to ask Casey those questions. Why did you wrap duct tape over your daughter's mouth and nose? And if you didn't, if Caylee really did drown in the pool and you couldn't give her a respectful burial, why didn't you prevent her body from being dumped in a garbage strewn lot?

But mostly, I want to know, why was duct tape involved at all with the mouth and nose of a little two year old girl?

Terminated by Amazon

I don't usually pay too much attention to what my state government does. Mostly because I feel so powerless to be heard. But the email that was waiting for me Friday morning from Amazon was a surprise. It informed me that because of a tax law that my state had just voted in, Amazon was terminating me as an Affiliate. I've been an Amazon affiliate for years, and I've never made a penny at it, so the termination really isn't a loss to me at all. But I'm still upset. It feels like freedom has been eroded a little bit more.




You really have to check out www.joulies.com. I think it's a really good idea. The majority of people that I talk to aren't over awed by the idea. They like their coffee nearly scalding hot, I don't. I'm always the last person to finish their hot drink, and usually I'm carrying around my cup for a good half hour or so after ordering it. To have my tea at a drinkable temperature sooner, and for a longer amount of time sounds good to me!

Fifty

Looking fifty is great - if you're sixty.

- Joan Rivers

The Midnight Ride

Paul Revere's Ride

Listen, my children, and you shall hear,

Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere,

On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five;

Hardly a man is now alive

Who remembers that famous day and year

By,

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Not when I was in school, but when my mother was in school, they were expected to know the whole poem, all 14 stanzas of it. All my mother could remember when she was an adult was the first stanza, and the one line "One, if by land, and two, if by sea," which she did with the appropriate arm thrust into the sky. About that time, I was glad that I hadn't gone to school with her.

Today would be a good day to look up this poem in it's entirety, and share it with your children. And to me, an added bonus is that the poem rhymes. That is important to me!

Influential Women in my Life

Right off, I know this list won't be complete. As I live, I learn, and so I'm sure I will be adding more woman to this list.

But, right off the top of my head:








Lucille Ball She is known to just about all the world as Lucy Ricardo, but Lucille Ball was more than (as in more roles, not "only") a stay home wife and mother, she was a star in her own right. She met obstacles head on, and knocked them down. Her career almost didn't start, because she was a brunette in a blond world. Her response wasn't to dye her hair blond, but to go red. It was a gamble, but one that paid off. Later in life, she was the older woman who fell in love with not just a younger man, but a younger man that was considered not to be of her race. Yes, we're talking about the Cuban Desi Arnaz. Though not honest about how exactly much older than she was than Desi, she bulldozed that hurtle. A prejudiced Hollywood refused to move Lucy from radio to tv if she insisted on Desi being her onscreen husband. Hollywood argued that America just wasn't ready for something so outrageous. In the vernacular of the time, Lucy (and Desi too, but this is woman's month) said "Nutz to you!" and went on to finance the show on their own, thus creating "I Love Lucy," a wildly successful show. Lastly, after Desi and Lucy divorced, she acquired DesiLu from Desi, becoming the first woman to run a Hollywood studio, and then sold it for millions.
So how did Lucy influence my life? I like the way she never took "no" as the final answer. Don't want a brunette, how about a redhead? Don't want a mixed race couple, I'll do it myself. Society frowns on women marrying younger than themselves, then you don't do it, I will. Moxy, and confidence in herself, even when she wasn't feeling all that confident.

Dorothea Lange is most known for a picture of a migrant mother and her children during the Dust Bowl / Great Depression Era. She was a child abandoned by her father, a gutsy woman who moved to the opposite coast (California) to open a photo studio, but those aren't the things that make her influential in my life. It is her gritty pictures. It made me realize that pictures don't always have to be "pretty." That a moment frozen in time often has more interest in it than the pretty portrait of a family taken in a studio.

Jessica Fletcher is a fictional character played by Angela Landsbury in the long running television series (12 seasons) Murder She Wrote. Angela Landsbury has had a very interesting life, but today, it's Jessica Beatrice MacGill Fletcher that I honor. Jessica had been happily married for many years before she wrote her first book at the age of 60 something. When her husband Frank died unexpectedly, she decided to change things in her life. The first thing was to retire from teaching high school English, and then she began to write her first mystery, for fun. Jessica has encouraged me that being a middle aged woman doesn't mean that life, or dreams are over. That you can still be active, you can still be attractive (without dressing or trying to look like you're 20 years younger), and writing success can come at any age or stage in life. In other words, there is still hope for me!

The Borrowers

Every once in a while someone will recommend to me a children's book. I just finished reading Heather Graham's book "Seance" so I thought, why not read it now? I have no idea of how, but 'The Borrowers' was already on my bookshelf.
It's a cute little book, but I really don't recommend it as an adult read, like say the Mary Poppins series or the Alice in Wonderland series. However, it would be a great book to read to the ten and under set before bedtime. I can pretty well guarantee that they will love it.

The Development, my second snippet

So, as you know, I said I was working on a story. I'm hoping that it will be good enough so that making it into an actual, buy-able book is worth while. Let me ask you, do you buy books that are not like your usual? Do you buy from authors you don't know? Do you buy books that are either longer or shorter than what you are used to? Do you buy e-books? Oooh, and if you do buy e-books, what do you read them on?
I've been trying to write every day and I am now beyond 15,000 words. Yes. I am soo proud, but that is tempered with the fact that the usual little Harlequin romance is about 65,000 words. That brings m e back to earth. How can anything be 65,000 words long unless it covers generations of people? Do you think if you wrote about this past week in your life you would use 65,000 words? Sometimes that is mind boggling and daunting!
So, here is another little snippet from the book I'm writing. Let me know how you enjoy it.

Dawn Morgan couldn't put her finger on it, but something about her room was different. Was it the atmosphere, the feeling that someone had been in her room while she was in school? Nothing seemed to be missing or not in it's usual spot, but something was …. Different.
Something was different with her brother Bobby's friend Steve Adams too. The game he had almost beat was missing. At first Steve had blamed his mother for confiscating the game because of a call from one of his teachers. His mom denied it and then Steve had blamed her brother of stealing it.
Bobby had been outraged at the accusation and Steve had back pedaled a bit and amended the stealing charge to just borrowing. Bobby hadn't been mollified at all.
The two long time friends were now enemies. For the time being anyway. Dawn wondered if Steve was as miserable with the separation as Bobby was?
Her bedroom door was thrown open by a raging Bobby. "Do you know what that rat's ass bastard did?" he demanded loudly.
Dawn had no idea of who the rat's ass bastard was, or what he had done. Considering Bobby's state of agitation, she figured reminding him about knocking before entering someone's room would be a waste of time. Dawn didn't have to wait long to find out what had Bobby so upset.
"He stole my game right out of the console!!! He yanked it right out!!"
"Who yanked it right out?" Dawn asked.
"That rat's ass bastard, Steve Adams!!!" he bellowed. "He's not getting away with this!"
Dawn couldn't imagine Steve Adams stealing anything from anyone, least of all his best friend. She tried to reason with Bobby, but he was too incensed to listen.
A few minutes later, she heard him screaming over the telephone, and then the phone being slammed into it's cradle.
"There's something not right with that story." She thought quietly to herself. She was convinced to her bones that neither Steve or her brother would steal, and certainly not from each other.
And there was still something wrong with her room. Dawn looked around her room again. Nothing looked disturbed or out of place. But there was something different, she just had no idea of what.

The Development

I have been tossing this idea around in my head for a little while and finally started to write it. I'm hoping that you will enjoy it, comment on it, critisize it and make me accountable to finally finish writing a story and getting it published and on Amazon.
No, this isn't my New Year Resolution, because I don't attempt that anymore. It is my promise to myself.
If you like this, and want to share the link, that is totally fine with me, but please don't copy and paste more than at most, a paragraph anywhere. Thank-you.

Without any more ado, The Development

He liked developments, housing developments. The roads were always well laid out. Dependable. Always there were a set amount of crossroads, a few cul d sacs, and entrances and exits that were usually convenient to main thoroughfares and even sometimes to the interstate.

He really liked the Corey Road South development. It was an older development than the Corey Road North development. It had fewer models of houses, only four. It had been developed in the 1960's when people expected their homes to have a yard for their children and elbow room for themselves.

Most of the homes backed onto a strip of woods that made the backyards private.

The North development had run out of money in the recession of the 1970's and the building stopped. Then when the price of real-estate went skyrocketing in the 1980's, the building lots were made smaller than the more sprawling lots of the south development. The north development had the same basic housing models as the south development; ranch, high ranch, two story and three floor split level, but it also had the models that became popular in the later twentieth century; the saltbox, the country farmhouse, and a few horrible modern abstracts.

He hated the modern abstracts. The floor plans were as individual as each owner. There were huge windows, sometimes two or even three stories high. How could you have any privacy in a house with windows as large as that? They couldn't even be hidden by trees! The building lots were too small for any decent sized trees. Development South had woods through out it. Development North was built wall to wall.


He liked Development South the best.

He'd been in almost all the houses. Well, that wasn't really the truth. But he knew all the houses. Really he did! After you'd been in one, raised ranch for instance, you'd know the layout of all of the development's raised ranches.

Well, he would. May-be the average person wouldn't, but he wasn't average. He was above average, although most people didn't know it.

He looked average though. Average height. Was he 5'11'' or was he 6'? Were his eyes blue or green? Was his hair brown or a dirty blonde?

Just an average Joe. That was him, average Joe.

But, not that average, if you knew him. Like, did the average guy have night goggles? He'd bet not, so may-be he wasn't that average now, was he?

It was astounding how average the average American was, no pun intended. For example, take the Adams, the Fletcher and the Rockney families. They lived on three different streets, in three different colored raised ranches. Three different families, with the same floor plan! Could you believe it? And to top it, they had almost exactly the same daily schedule!

6 AM - the lights went on in the rooms over the garage. Gee, could that be where all the bedrooms were located?

6:15 - the lights went on at the back of the house. People getting their coffee pots started. If they had a dog, the dog was let out and back in then too.

6:30 The fathers left the house.

6:45 - Mothers leave the house with the kids in the car and dropped them off at the bus stops throughout the development.

7:00 - Busses come and pick up the kids. The whole development was empty really, except for one stay at home mother, a couple that worked from home, and two elderly couples. Seven people in a development of almost one hundred houses!

3:00 PM - Some mothers and one or two fathers came home.

3:15 PM - The busses started to bring the kids home from school.

6:30 PM The last of the parents came home. (Most residents were home by 9PM)

11:00PM - The security alarms were put on for the night.

He loved how average the residents of the development were. They were the average ones, not him! They were average Joe's and Jane's and Joe-ettes and Jane-etts!

Thinking on it always made him chuckle!

Like the Rockneys security system, for instance. They turned it off in the morning when they let the dog out. They turned it back on when the mother left for work at 6:45. Then the kids turned it off when they returned home from school, and usually forgot to turn it back on! The system was activated again at ten, which was a whole hour earlier than most of the other neighbors.

He'd spent a lot of time watching that house and their schedules. He'd use that one gap when the kids forgot to reactivate the alarm to enter the house at 8pm, when the family had all left to attend some school function. When he heard the alarm reactivate at ten that night, he had to cover his mouth to muffle his giggles. It just tickled his funny bone that the alarm to keep him out of the house was turned on with him in the house!

He waited in the attached garage until all the house noises stopped before he put on his night goggles and went up the stairs. The dog was sound asleep on the couch. It didn't make a sound as he made his way down the hallway.

First door on the left, coat closet. First door on the right, bathroom. Second door on the left, son's bedroom. Second door on the right, parent's bedroom. Door at the end of the hall, daughter's bedroom. He didn't know why, but parent's usually got the room next to the bathroom, sons got the smallest room and daughters got the end room.

He stood watching the Rockney girl sleep. Her blonde hair splayed across the pillow. Her breath was soft. She was just beautiful as she slept. Her foot stuck out from under the blanket, and he debated with himself for just a minute, if he should cover her foot? The room was cool, and she might catch a cold.

He walked into the room on cat feet. He covered her foot, then walked out of the room. He walked back up the hall, and then made a detour into the kitchen. He rummaged through the refrigerator, took a carton of take out Chinese food out, found a plastic spoon in the junk drawer - last drawer to the right of the sink - and walked back down the stairs. Then he waited in the garage for morning to come, and the alarm to be deactivated.

When it was, he left the garage with the take-out container and threw it into the garbage receptacle outside and in the back of the garage. Then he went home. He was tired from the night's adventures.

Chapter Two

Sarah Rockney felt like someone was watching her as she lay in her bed. She tried to keep her breathing soft and natural while trying to listen for any sound that would give away the presence of an intruder.

No sound.

She wished she had kept her swimming fish nightlight that her Uncle Nick had given to her when she was eight but she felt like such an immature baby having it in her room. She'd even seen her friend Maria snicker when she'd seen it.

Now Sarah wished that she hadn't paid Maria any attention. The room was as black as, as black as…..she struggled to think of a comparison.

As black as a velvet blanket wrapped around her head!

She could see nothing. She could hear nothing. Eventually Sarah fell back to sleep.

The alarm on her radio sounded what seemed only a short time later, and Sarah woke up still tired.

"You're moving slow today." Mrs. Rockney remarked to her daughter when Sarah eventually made it into the kitchen. Mr. Rockney had already left for work.

"I had trouble sleeping last night." She answered as she searched the refrigerator for last night's left overs of Chinese food. She thought it might make a good lunch for school that day. She couldn't find it, and grabbed a cup of yoghurt instead. Then she searched the junk drawer for a plastic spoon. There wasn't any.

"Sarah, you need more for your lunch than a cup of yoghurt!" her mother reproved.

"I would if people didn't finish everything in the house." Sarah mumbled.

As usual, this work of fiction is Copyright 2011 Mary Bennett

A new post on The Big C

http://cancerstagefour.wordpress.com/2010/12/29/sunshine-and-lollipops/

Cafe Press Shirt

Trying to buy gifts for Nate this year, and still not going ridiculously overboard was hard to do this year because for the most part, I don't have a car. So no running out and picking up "littles" here and there. Consequently, I did the majority of my buying over the web.

Nate really like John Wayne, and with the remake of "True Grit" coming out, I had to buy him the best version as a Christmas present - the original, with John Wayne in it! I also mosied over to Snap Fish to make him a new mouse pad, figuring that everyone needs a new mouse pad. I know the one that I have, is the one that came with the computer. It is thin and bent up, and cuts my hand when I get close to it's bent up edges.

I didn't know it, Nate has a desk, no computer.

Then I mosied over to Cafe Press for this wise guy shirt. I knew I was about out of time (yes, I really procrastinated this year) , so I asked them to please wrap it, before sending it. They did a fantastic job! No one could guess what the gift was, and everyone in the house shook or squeezed it at some time or other. When Nate opened it, I was really pleased with how well the picture was printed out.
Lastly, I know that we just had winter storm Adrianna. It ruined my son's Christmas visit and now the snow that came with it is having the good grace to start melting away. I can't wait for it to be gone, and for winter to be over.

I am not giving it one more line of blog!

The Seance

I am reading another Heather Graham book called "Seance." I am enjoying it very much. It's just scary enough to keep the pages turning, but not enough to give me nightmares.

At this moment, I am trying to write a story called "The Development," and I found it interesting that the two of us chose to reveal what is in the killer's mind, without saying who the killer is.

I'm thinking of posting bits of my story on my blog as I write. May-be the feedback will keep me motivated, thinking and writing? I don't think that I am the solitary writer type.

Baking Soda and Vinegar or Frugal Cleaning

It's dawned on me that I haven't posted about being frugal in a while. I'm still doing the frugal living, as best I can with the UNCONVERTED, but I haven't written about it.

At Christmas, my daughters were making a lot of cookies, and I was doing a lot of cooking. We were all using the sink a lot, and it showed! See the first picture.

It was a complete, dirty, mess. I was ready to start cleaning it, when I thought, "You know, I should take pictures of the before, during and after of the sink to show that the frugal, non chemical cleaners really do work."

So, here is the sink before cleaning.





And this is the sink after sprinkling, ultra cheap baking soda on it.



Then I sprayed vinegar (I keep white vinegar in a
plastic spray bottle) on top. The big globs of white in the sink is where the baking soda and vinegar have reacted with each other.

Then I scoured the sink using a paper towel (yes, it should have been with a rag, but today I used a paper towel) and then rinsed the sink out.



And this is the sink afterward. See how clean and shiny it is? And no chemicals to hurt your septic system or the environment were needed!!

The Unconverted

So who am I to be the Christmas Tree Nazi? I'm not. Happily for all family members who preferred a tree bigger than my 3' kitchen tree, we did not wait for the tree we liked (the winner was BJ's) to go on sale but bought it mere hours before Santa arrived.

It was the second to last one.

But in keeping with my "less is more" mantra, dear heart and the kids that were home at the time, made paper snowflakes for the tree.

And that huge orange-y cylinder on the tree? Was the Cafe Press shirt of The Original American Pickers wrapped and sent by Cafe Press. Dear Heart knew it was for him, but had no idea what it was. I have to say that our experience with Cafe Press went very well. The wrapping was great, and the shirt came out fantastic. Everyone in the family got a laugh out of it. (You can see it on my webpage until Dear Heart models it.)


Let me remind you that this picture was taken fairly early in the morning after a late night for me. It's a mug from two of my son's and says $*#@!!!! Cancer, which is how I feel about Cancer.






And I got my second ever in my life box of Godiva Chocolate. Okay, so much for keeping things simple. Mea Culpa!! Mea maxissimus culpa!! But oh! Mmmmmm, deliciouso!!!







To end this post, on a happy and sad note, a cancer buddy stopped fighting with cancer on December 23rd and spent Christmas with her Savior. I am so happy that she is no longer in pain, but still sad. I always feel sad when one of my prayer and cancer buddies decide it's time to stop fighting, even though I understand why. So please remember Dovie and prayer for the repose of her soul, and pray for comfort to her children, Sissy and Harrison.

And have yourself a basic, happy and traditional Christmas!

Three Days Before Christmas

I can't believe that it's only three more days until Christmas!! I'm trying to stay within the spirit; to not only count my blessings, but to also really be appreciative of them. To forgive everyone who has wronged me, even people who I don't speak to (because of distance or because or circles just don't intersect anywhere), not just by my words, but truly, in my heart.

And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who have trespassed against us.

There had been rumblings among the unconverted that they might want to get a live tree that is slightly bigger, well a few feet bigger, than my little kitchen tree. Until they saw the price, added the stand (that would be used this year only) and realized it was the same price as the prime rib we're having for Christmas Dinner.

Which is a Christmas surprise. But I'm not nervous to write it here, because the people who will be surprised don't read my blog anyway. Hehehe!!!!

I have to admit, some of my Holiday Spirit has been abraded by the commercials that the major retailers have put on the television airwaves these last few weeks. One is Target and their catchy little song as a couple pop through their house hiding gifts inside of stew pots, under Frosty's hat etc. Then they ruin the whole thing with:

I don't mean to be mean
I don't mean to be vicious
But you're never gonna find my Christmas!

Really?? No, I mean, really?

Not to be outdone is crassness, WalMart's catchy little Jingle is "Less money, More Christmas!"

So somebody, please tell me when Christ's Mass became synonymous with gifts or presents?

And no, this is not me being bah! humbug -ish! Nothing could be further from the truth. I love Christmas. I love the celebration and traditions of Christmas.

However, someone needs to tell the retailers of the United States of America, that going into debt or even spending copious amounts of money is not the spirit or tradition of Christmas.

Neither is having family feuds or sniping at what is supposed to be a festive and joyful meal. I couldn't believe it when I read in a newspaper article that people dread going home for Thanksgiving and Christmas.

What is really annoying me, is even though I've denounced the spend! spend! spend! of Christmas, I every so often mentally go through my Christmas list and the thoughtful gifts that I bought and wonder, Gosh, is this enough? Should I have eschewed thoughtful and non-extravagant gifts for the big "Christmas maker gifts?"

Then when I come back to sanity, I want to kick myself for my doubts. For my momentary desertion to the other side!

After all, who's birthday is it anyway?

I can't wait for Christmas to get here and I'm not proud of some of my reasoning because part of the reason is that I can't wait for my vacillating between buy and buy-more to be over. I don't want any more "buy" Christmases, no matter if the economy recovers, or even if the economy becomes super - heated again.

Hopefully, next Christmas will be easier.

Cat Scan Update

http://wp.me/s11RA4-38
My CAT scan Update

The Small Tree

As you may well remember, we were hit by the 200 year storm last March. Our lower level was flooded, and we lost a lot of items that were in storage including my son's brand new carpet (which I blogged about buying) and our artificial, 6' Christmas Tree.

Ever since November, my husband and I have been looking for a replacement. We've gone to every store near us, and when we were visiting my sons in New York, we even went to their local stores to look. WalMart, Target, K-Mart, Lowes, Home Depot, Sears, The Christmas Tree Shop, Rite Aide, we've tried them all. The trees were either too tall, too short, had papery needles that I didn't like or trust, was to skimpy, or was just too expensive. So far, we don't have a new Christmas tree.

"We could always get a live tree." my husband said.

"Live as in balled, or live as in cut?"

"Whichever." he replied refusing to get into that conversation again.

I don't mind a live, balled tree. The only problem is, to get a tree that is big enough, you run into a quite considerable price tag.

I don't like cut trees. If we lived in the wilderness, or on enough acreage, where we could re-use the tree, I wouldn't mind a cut tree. In the winter, we could make it into a refuge for little animals and a feeder for birds. Come spring, we could put it through a chipper and make it mulch. But we don't live on acreage anymore, we live in a development where the neighbors get cranky at seeing brown, tinder dry trees that could set the whole neighborhood on fire sitting in their neighbor's yard.

The idea of ending a tree's life, so that it can end up with a bunch of other trees in a landfill makes me feel depressed. Even when I am reassured that the tree was planted on a tree farm for just that purpose, and that it's replacement has already been replanted on the same farm.

It's just hippies like me, that go out into the wilderness to cut down a tree these days. So there!!!! I've been told.

So I was home, and my husband was at work. I was looking around my small, little (I'm being redundant, I know), very un-Christmas-y home when the thought came to me "Heck! Both of us are too stubborn to buy the tree we like at such an expensive price until they have their half off sale. Why don't I put up my little kitchen tree in the living room, since there isn't room for a kitchen tree in this house anyway?"

So I did. My kitchen tree is about three foot tall, and fiber-optic. It looked great in my kitchen decorated with cookie cutters. This year it looks good in my living room decorated with candy canes. May-be at some time I'll put some garland on it, but for right now, it really looks good in it's simplicity.

If you read my previous blog, I'm in a "less is more" mindset this holiday season anyway.

"Really? You're okay with a three foot tree this year?" my husband asked with a little disbelief after he came home.

"Yes I am. It's a beautiful little tree, you know I've always loved it."

My husband had to agree, the tree was pretty.

Does anyone expect that people who have their Thanksgiving dinner on the Sunday after Thanksgiving so the whole family can be together would be tied to the tradition of a full sized tree?

When Less is More

Perhaps it all started with the dreaded question "What do you want for Christmas?"
I realized that there were many little "remembrance" gifts that I would like to get, but there was nothing that was a "lovey" gift.
Do you know what remembrance gifts and lovey gifts are? A "remembrance" gift, is just a small gift costing a few dollars or even handmade to "remember" you to the season. In other words, the gift is a mere trifle.
Now a "lovey" gift is a whole 'nother story! A "lovey" is the gift that you circle in the Wish Book or a catalogue. It's the gift you dream about at night and you daydream about. It's the one gift you desire above all others. It's the gift that "makes" your Christmas.
This year, I desire no "lovey" gift. I really and truly realize that I already have everything that is important to me. I have children that love me. I have a husband that loves me. I will be spending Christmas with the majority of my children and my husband.
There is nothing more that I desire.

Rest In Peace, Elizabeth Edwards

I just wrote a blog about Elizabeth Edwards if you would like to read it: http://cancerstagefour.wordpress.com/2010/12/08/rest-in-peace-elizabeth-edwards/

The Advent Wreath

I am sure there is a long history to the advent wreath, but I really have never researched it. It's been part of my history ever since I can remember.

My parents had a gold circle with ornate candle cups as their advent wreath. My grandmother had a plain one. She put a green, plastic, Christmas wreath on hers and it looked very pretty.

Our first year of being married, I didn't have an advent wreath. I bought four votive candles (three purple, one pink), lit them, waited them to have enough wax to drip, and fastened them to a plate by the wet wax. I put a shimmering Christmas garland around it and called it a day. It served well and looked pretty.

Other years, I've used heavy coat thread to hang the wreath from the chandelier above our dining table, and decorated that with a plastic star garland we had. It looked great, and with a bigger family by this time, saved much needed table space.

There are traditional prayers and meditations, but often we lit the candle (or candles depending on the week) and said a simple grace.

A search on Google will find all sorts of Advent meditations and prayers but this might be a nice place to begin: http://www.catholiceducation.org/articles/religion/re0132.html

I hope you observe Advent this year. I think you'll find it very beneficial!

Hail and Blessed!

Not only is this Sunday the day we're holding our big Thanksgiving family dinner, it is also the start of the season of Advent.

You might not be familiar with the Advent Season. This year has been one more hard year, following more hard years than any of us want to remember. It seems, at least in these parts, that as soon as September started, people started to put up their scarecrows, pumpkins and even spider webs. Even before September ended, big pots of mums made their appearances as well as jack-o-lanterns, tree ghosts, and witches flying into walls. Hardly had the kids categorized their Halloween stash, than all Halloween and fall decorations were thoroughly removed and replaced with Christmas decorations. Christmas music has been on the radio, and avoided by me, for at least two weeks now.

Advent has been being pushed out the door for years now, but it seems like even Advent Calendars - items that have been passed down through generations even, are unheard of today.

I can understand it. The last few years have been just awful - no horrendous is a more apt definition. People have been losing their houses, their jobs, medical benefits, retirement and even all their savings for at least the last four years. Now we can add sabre rattling by North Korea and increased threats from Al Queda.

People don't want to think about waiting for Christmas. They don't want to think about giving things up. They feel like they've done enough giving up.

We don't need the somberness of purple candles. We need bright, colorful lights and cheery singing of carols that bring back memories of a happier time.

We don't have the emotional fortitude for advent.

But, may-be we should.

Advent is a simple season. If you don't want to have an advent wreath, Jesse Tree or advent calendar, you don't have to. You can have all three if you want them. They don't have to be plain, you can dress them up as much as you'd like!

The real beauty of Advent is the building of, and strengthening of character. In this world of noise and immediacy, when we want or think we need everything now, Advent encourages us to wait, to be still and reflect. Something BIG is going to happen. Something wonderful, more wonderful than has ever happened before and will never happen again. Something that deserves to be meditated on, anticipated, and truly celebrated for what it is.

The best part about Advent is the lack of pressure. There is nothing you must buy, no gifts to have to shop for, no traditional foods, no must go to meetings. However, you have to remember, that you will only get out of observing Advent, what you put into it.

Many people pray this prayer (It's called the Christmas Novena or St Andrew's Christmas Novena) starting on the first day of Advent until the Feast of Christmas :

Hail, and blessed be the hour and moment at which the Son of God was born of a most pure Virgin at a stable at midnight in Bethlehem in the piercing cold. At that hour vouchsafe, I beseech Thee, to hear my prayers and grant my desires. (Mention your intentions here) Through Jesus Christ and His most Blessed Mother.

It is said 5 times at every meal. The repetition might seem strange to you, or even superstitious, but Our Lord has told us to be constantly praying. Remember the widow and the unjust Judge who ruled against her. But the widow kept petitioning the Judge, night and day, until he could stand it no longer, and reversed his verdict to rule in her favor.

Very wonderful favors have been given from the reciting of this prayer, and I really encourage you to make it part of your Advent this year.

A Thankful Day

One of the not-so-great things about having your children grow up, is that they grow up. They grow up, get educated, and move away. They have responsibilities that you can't suspend, things like the obligation to work on Thanksgiving Day.

So a few years ago, when the majority of our family had to work on Thanksgiving Day, we gave a long hard look at the holiday.

Was it a religious holiday? No

Did it have to be celebrated on any particular day to preserve it's authenticity? No. Throughout American history, Thanksgiving has been celebrated on many different days. In Colonial America, they sometimes celebrated many days of thanksgiving.

We broke down what we thought thanksgiving is to us - a day to be thankful and to gather with our family. We summarized that if over half of our family was missing the traditional Thanksgiving meal because they had to work and wouldn't be able to make the trip to our home, then it just wouldn't be Thanksgiving.

So we changed the day we would celebrate, to a day that the majority of our family would be able to gather together. One year it was on a Monday. This year it is on a Sunday. I also found that by not having our meal on the BIG THANKSGIVING DAY, a lot of the pressure for the perfect meal was gone.

We still have turkey, stuffing, and pumpkin pie; but the turkey isn't as large. We may cook more foods, but we don't cook a bigger quantity. Leftovers are more manageable and not a burden to try to foist into later meals.

So, while you are eating your thanksgiving meal, I will think of all the blessings that I have been given.

1. The top blessing for me is my year of remission from cancer. Because if I wasn't in remission, I would either be battling, or sleeping the deep sleep!

2. My next blessing is that all the rest of my family is healthy. Not relatively healthy with minor ailments. They are strong-as-a-horse healthy. And for that, I am grateful!

3. I am grateful for a husband who stayed loyal through all our ups and downs while I was healthy. I am grateful the way he put his shoulder to the wheel during the iffy days of my survival, and my grueling recovery.

4. I am grateful for the relationship between all of my children. They truly love each other, and will be there for each other through thick and thin. The older ones look out for the younger ones, so they avoid the pitfalls of life. And the younger ones remind the older ones to be vigilant for their health.

5. I am grateful that my illness didn't scare any of my children away from me. I'm sure coming to see me, esp when I was covered in tubes and wires was very hard to endure.

6. I am grateful for all the prayers that were continually offered for me during my struggle. I'm sure that, and my surgeon, are the only reason I have been given a reprieve.

7. I am grateful for the Internet. It kept me in touch with, and helped me to get to know better my Aunt Tanya and cousin Bernadette , both who left this world in God's friendship within this year.

8. I am grateful to Bernadette, who's example and advice helped me to endure hospital life.

9. I am thankful for my language.

10. I am thankful that my husband has a full time job.

11. I am thankful that we have enough food.

12. I am thankful for a roof over my head.

13. I am thankful for a warm house in winter and a cool house in summer.

14. I am thankful to live in America.

15. I am thankful that we aren't governed by Sharia law in America.

16. I am grateful that I'm not a woman, or a Catholic under Sharia Law.

17. I am grateful that my testimony is valued equally with a man's testimony in court.

18. I am grateful that I can own property in my own name.

19. I am grateful that I can vote in all government elections.

20. I am grateful that I can pick who I want to marry.

21. I am grateful that I can pick if I want to stay married.

22. I am grateful that I could go to school, without having to hide that information, or worrying if I would be killed on my way to school or in school, simply because I was a female.

23. I am grateful that I can pick what church I want to attend on Sunday, without fear that terrorists are going to drive through the front door, throw bombs at us, and shoot three year olds through the mouth because he screamed "Stop the shooting!" in terror.

24. I am grateful that I don't have to go to any church, temple or mosque if I don't want to.

25. I am grateful that I don't live in a country where enemies can make up offenses against you, for adultery, witchcraft, blasphemy etc, and you get railroaded into a death of hanging until suffocated, stoning, crucifixion, or burning at the stake.

26. I am grateful to live in a country where I was allowed to accept every single child God sent us, without fear of forced abortion or fines.

27. I am grateful to live in a country where I can write what I want on this blog what I want to write, without the fear of having my door pounded down in the middle of the night, being arrested, and never seen again.

28. I am grateful that I live in a country in which I can write a letter to the editor about politicians, about the cost of the paper today - Sunday price, filled with paid advertising - feeling very ripped off, and being able to sign my real name, without fear.

29. I am grateful to live in a country where I can wear a religious symbol four foot high, on my five foot body, and no one will have the right to tell me to remove it.

30. I am grateful not only for free public schools, but also for the right to home school if I wish. I only wish that the free education extended onto college and tech school, and didn't end at the age of 21, but went on until death.

31. I am grateful that I can bring such joy to all people. Some people feel joy at my arrival, and others feel joy at my departure.

32. I am grateful for the relatively inexpensive price of chocolate. (And hope that the rumors I've heard that chocolate will be too expensive for the average person to buy in the next 20 years are totally wrong.)

33. I am grateful for the readers of my blog. Thank-you!

What are you grateful for?