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Starting Over
So what have I been up to for the last few months? I’m sure you’re on fire with curiosity.
Let me think a moment. I left off the blogging back in March. The auction for my parents was upon us, and I was very tired of the whole sorting, packing, moving thing. So let me do a small recap and bring you up to date on my boring life.
April
April 1st was auction day and we were ready. We spent the day before putting everything outside. Again with the manual labor. The day of the auction started out as cool and cloudy, but by the time things got started it was beginning to clear and warm up. Not being a regular at auctions, I can't determine if it was a great crowd or not, but we did get rid of everything and that was the important part. Bill & Carol and their crew did a great job. 
Let me tell you, the whole thing was a lot of work for everyone, but all in all a good day. As you can see, one lady found a place to take a little nap. Now that I think about it, I think this sleeper-sofa was one of only 2 items that sold but were never picked up. I didn't know people did that - buy things and just leave them. It obviously was comfy enough for her. We went out for dinner that night to celebrate that it was over.
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The next day was cleanup day. Since Mom & Dad were already moved into town and all settled in their new house, the closing for their place in the country was scheduled for just a couple of days later. Since all the stuff was gone, it was mostly a job of little tasks - cleaning and taking a few things to a dumpster. {mosimage} Since we had taken so many family pictures in front of the fireplace, we had to have one final photo of us there. It was a bittersweet moment. The place in the country was not our "family home". We had lived in town when all of us kids were growing up, so we had never lived in this house. But the property, and then the cabin Dad had built, had been our place for family & friends time. Dad and my brothers have hunted on this property. We have had <strike>dozens</strike> hundreds of picnics with friends. {mosimage} Mom & Dad always had a huge garden planted in the country and Dad would faithfully come out from town every day after work to tend it and to care for the hunting dogs. Oh and how could I forget — my horses. Before I was old enough to drive, I would ride my bike out so I could ride my horse, or just hang out in the pasture with them.
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Okay, I need to stop this subject for the moment. I'm just feeling a little sentimental over this. Without a doubt the move back into town was a GOOD move for Mom & Dad. So I guess I'll move onto the next month.
Turning 50
I have the obligatory number of brothers. Three. One is older, and two are younger.
Recently, there was both a traumatic event (for my brother) and a joyous occasion (for the rest of us) when one of the younger brothers turned 50. *evil grin* Sisters never outgrow the thrill of seeing little brothers squirm as they have to face reality.
Richard is just the greatest brother. Jim and Thomas are just as great, but it wasn’t their birthday, so I’ll keep the focus.
I remember when my younger brother was born. I was so happy it was a brother and NOT a sister. I’m sure my reasons were very selfish. After all, I was only six, and naturally quite self-centered. My Mom had planned on naming the baby Katherine if it had been a girl. How horrid!! There was a girl in my class with that name and I just couldn’t stand the thought of someone in my family having that name. She smelled. Little did I know that babies smell at times, so for that reason it wouldn’t have mattered.
We had moved just a few months before Richard had been born. I was more than happy to leave the abandonment house. (another story in the making) and now were much closer to the park and the schools.
Sugar Cookies
Classic Sugar Cookies (Cookie Exchange Quantity)
3 cups powdered sugar
2 cups butter or margarine, softened
2 teaspoons vanilla
1 teaspoon almond extract
2 eggs
5 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
2 teaspoons cream of tartar
Decorator’s Glaze
4 cups powdered sugar
1/4 cup water
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1 teaspoon almond extract
Food colors, as desired
Decorations
decorating gel, colored sugar and/or decors, if desired
decorating icing (in 4.25-oz tubes), if desired
Flaked coconut, if desired
1. In large bowl, beat 3 cups powdered sugar, the butter, vanilla, 1 teaspoon almond extract and eggs with electric mixer on medium speed, or mix with spoon. Stir in flour, baking soda and cream of tartar. Cover and refrigerate at least 2 hours.
2. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly grease cookie sheet. Divide dough in half. On lightly floured surface, roll each half 1/8 inch thick. Cut into desired shapes with 3-inch cookie cutters. Place about 2 inches apart on cookie sheet.
3. Bake 5 to 7 minutes or until edges are light brown. Remove from cookie sheet to wire rack. Cool completely, about 30 minutes.
4. In small bowl, beat all glaze ingredients except food colors on low speed until smooth. Divide among several small bowls. Stir desired food color, one drop at a time, into each until desired color. Decorate cookies with glaze and other decorations as desired.
High Altitude (3500-6500 ft) Bake 6 to 7 minutes.
Trust Me on the Sunscreen
Trust me on the sunscreen
This is another article I came across on the internet - actually I think it was some sort of slideshow or video at youtube that had some very nice background music and this text overlaid onto some pictures. I did the usual search on some of the text and discovered where the text had originated. Enjoy!
Mary Schmich is a columnist for the Chicago Tribune. Schmich’s June 1, 1997 column began with the injunction to wear sunscreen, and continued with advice for living without regret. In her introduction to the column, she described it as the commencement address she would give if she were asked to give one.
Ladies and gentlemen of the class of ‘97:
Wear sunscreen.
If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be it. The long-term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by scientists, whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable than my own meandering experience. I will dispense this advice now.
Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth. Oh, never mind. You will not understand the power and beauty of your youth until they’ve faded. But trust me, in 20 years, you’ll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before you and how fabulous you really looked. You are not as fat as you imagine. Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum.
The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blind side you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.
Do one thing every day that scares you.
Sing.
Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with people who are reckless with yours.
Floss.
Don’t waste your time on jealousy. Sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes you’re behind. The race is long and, in the end, it’s only with yourself.
Remember compliments you receive. Forget the insults. If you succeed in doing this, tell me how.
Keep your old love letters. Throw your old bank statements.
Stretch.
Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your life. The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they wanted to do with their lives. Some of the most interesting 40 year olds I know still don’t know.
Get plenty of calcium. Be kind to your knees. You’ll miss them when they’re gone.
Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll have children, maybe you won’t. Maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky chicken on your 75th anniversary. Whatever you do, don’t congratulate yourself too much, or berate yourself either. Your choices are half chance. So are everybody else’s.
Enjoy your body. Use it every way you can. Don’t be afraid of it or of what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.
Dance, even if you have nowhere to do it but your living room.
Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.
Do not read beauty magazines. They will only make you feel ugly.
Get to know your parents. You never know when they’ll be gone for good.
Be nice to your siblings. They’re your best link to your past and the people most likely to stick with you in the future.
Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and lifestyle, because the older you get, the more you need the people who knew you when you were young.
Live in New York City once, but leave it before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft.
Travel.
Accept certain inalienable truths: Prices will rise. Politicians will philander. You, too, will get old. And when you do, you’ll fantasize that when you were young, prices were reasonable, politicians were noble, and children respected their elders.
Respect your elders.
Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund. Maybe you’ll have a wealthy spouse. But you never know when either one might run out.
Don’t mess around too much with your hair or by the time you’re 40 it will look 85.
Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia. Dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.
But trust me on the sunscreen.
Maple Surple
Yes, the topic today is Maple Surple - real Maple Surple. And why is it surple instead of syrup? Simple answer - because I like that word. I’m never sure how I want to pronounce syrup. Is it sir-up or is it sear-up? I just looked it up, and the dictionary site I used gives the first one, but I’ve heard plenty of people say it like sear - as if you were searing meat on a grill. Well I don’t want seared liquid on my pancakes, and as far as I know Queen Elizabeth has not knighted it, so surple it is. Besides many little kids say it that way, and I am a kid at heart.
So here’s the deal. I’m sure we all love REAL maple surple, and because of the price difference, we usually don’t buy it in the grocery store. That fake stuff works to add some sweetness. Last year in October, my brother and his wife took their honeymoon trip to Vermont. My brother borrowed my digital camera to take along and I told him, that in exchange for that favor, he should bring me some real maple surple.
Did he? Have you met my brother? I’m sure the answer to both questions is NO, or at least to the first question. He used the camera; I got no surple!
I was more than willing to continue living with my fake stuff, but when a real live human being is going to Vermont from Nebraska, the rule is to bring back the real stuff. So for the last year I have wanted craved real maple surple. Deep down to my toes I have craved it. So this year, some friends were taking a nice “see the fall colors” trip to Vermont. Aaahhhhaaaa I thought. My chance is here!! The request was placed, and lo and behold, a very nice can of real Premium Grade A Vermont Maple Syrup arrived at my house. Not only did the surple arrive, but so did a bag of real Maple candy!! A whole bag of little candies shaped like maple leaves, labeled with Harlow’s Pure Maple Candy, and ohsoyummy!!! I know the kind thing, the nice thing, the right thing, the expected thing is to share, but that just might not happen this time.
Oh and just in case you might be wondering about the whole maple thing - I thought I would mention that we don’t have maple trees in Nebraska. We also don’t have oak trees, or birch, or chesnut. Okay let me be totally honest - trees are darn rare in Nebraska. Here’s just one little sample photo of Nebraska. Can you see a tree? Nope, not a tree in sight and that view goes for miles. Miles and miles of wonderful blue skies and wide open spaces. I guess it is a good thing my favorite color is blue and not green.
So that’s my entry for today. Some people would close with “Have a good day” or “Have a great day” but let me just say …
Happy Surple-ing!!
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Cricket
this is a resurrected post
crick·et [krik-it] Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[krik-it] Pronunciation Key
–noun - a game, popular esp. in England, for two teams of 11 members each that is played on a field having two wickets 22 yards (20 m) apart, the object being to score runs by batting the ball far enough so that one is enabled to exchange wickets with the batsman defending the opposite wicket before the ball is recovered.
- noun -
Cricket - yes she was a 1980’s Playmate doll. She came with a tape recorder built in so she could be a real playmate for little girls everywhere. She had lots of accessories you could get - different outfits and additional casette tapes - and you could style her hair. You certainly remember her, along with the Rainbow Brites and My Little Pony. And who can forget Strawberry Shortcake. We had SS at our house, and not Cricket, but this story isn’t about SS. It is about Cricket.
–noun-Any of various insects of the family Gryllidae, having long antennae and legs adapted for leaping. The males of many species produce a shrill chirping sound by rubbing the front wings together.
Yes this story is about a cricket - more specifically, one that fits the last definition - the one that makes the shrill chirping sound….
….in the middle of the night, while I am trying to sleep.
He’s been living at our house for a couple of weeks now. He seemed to like the family room and lived somewhere behind or under the couch, but Gene helped him pack up his stuff and move to the area behind the entertainment center. (Are you seeing a theme to our lives? - helping people/things move from one location to another.) Gene told me just the other day that he thought Jiminy had moved on to another house or the great outdoors, or somewhere other than the family room.
Yep, somewhere other than the family room - our bedroom!!! I’m not sure why Gene didn’t hear him, but I certainly did as I was trying to go to sleep. I couldn’t find him in the dark to help him move and I didn’t want to wake Gene up by turning on the light, so I just tried to have a nice quiet conversation with him, suggesting he find a different bedroom. I didn’t quite understand his answer since I don’t speak Cricketese, but I think he said “NO”. How rude of him. Doesn’t he know who’s in charge?
Well, at least he’s a loner. So far, I haven’t heard any of his bug cousins like a mosquito or a fly, or, heaven forbid, a wasp. Knock on Wood
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