tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-91072161898910547432024-03-05T08:30:43.256-08:00TeamReedblogCherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.comBlogger708125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-62007673556489846582020-06-21T12:43:00.003-07:002020-06-21T12:48:41.047-07:00Rest Stops, Road Trips and Fathers Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkfheMc4MhiXYcUeP4QAX4675l93j8HGpsutZnUGKOgG2OUBxksA0pSTejHTpjegz0WHWfi7TJAFS6_2Fw3waEQmLpjdUKjgEaSm9vMcRvBGGPPMJ9d7q4kVvdcxXANmFVWZ80Ow_PoI/s1600/GpaattheWoodswgirls.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="888" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWkfheMc4MhiXYcUeP4QAX4675l93j8HGpsutZnUGKOgG2OUBxksA0pSTejHTpjegz0WHWfi7TJAFS6_2Fw3waEQmLpjdUKjgEaSm9vMcRvBGGPPMJ9d7q4kVvdcxXANmFVWZ80Ow_PoI/s320/GpaattheWoodswgirls.JPG" width="320" /></a>We celebrated Fathers' Day a little bit early on a spontaneous road trip to Maine. It was a long time in the car, but we have three drivers now, so it made it a little bit better. We were able to see Gary at his managed care facility for 30 minutes a day - which they let us stretch to an hour - outside. Most days, it was pleasant; on the first day, though it was a little chilly. We'd dressed and packed for August but found ways to make do. It was great to see him and hear some stories we hadn't heard before and meet some of the folks who live and work with him. </div>
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We stayed with Jen and Peter at their new camp on China Lake. It's about 90 minutes north of Portland (where Gary is) and about 50 miles south of Bangor. And in June, the drive off the highway down to the lake is bordered by an amazing field of lupines. One of our favorite books to read back when Ali was a little girl, and which was part of a pile Grammie Reed had kept for years, is <a href="https://www.amazon.com/Miss-Rumphius-Barbara-Cooney/dp/0140505393/ref=asc_df_0140505393/?tag=hyprod-20&linkCode=df0&hvadid=312053899840&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=5990426518591912899&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9016149&hvtargid=pla-453538051334&psc=1&tag=&ref=&adgrpid=61316180799&hvpone=&hvptwo=&hvadid=312053899840&hvpos=&hvnetw=g&hvrand=5990426518591912899&hvqmt=&hvdev=c&hvdvcmdl=&hvlocint=&hvlocphy=9016149&hvtargid=pla-453538051334">"Miss Rumphius"</a> AKA the Lupine Lady. The field brought it all back and made it clear that what I thought was a lupine and <a href="http://teamreedblog.blogspot.com/2018/05/">wrote about a while ago, is clearly not.</a><br />
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Oh, and look: a deer! Jen and Peter have been keeping an eye on a fawn and mother that live somewhere in there.<br />
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Jeff, Jen and I were all working in between the visits, juggling video and voice calls so as not to interrupt the other. But if you have to work and drive a ton on vacation, there are worse places to do it than Maine in June.<br />
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We squeezed in a couple visits with James and David, too, but did little else. Not that any of us were complaining. It was awesome to stroll a bit with Grandpa and to enjoy the peacefulness of the lake. Ali coached Jen and me through a bit of yoga, and we took some walks. Jeff helped chop wood with Peter, who made sure Ali got some good lake time in. </div>
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If a road trip is in your future and you, like me, have long ignored state rest-stop signs, do yourself a favor and renew your acquaintance should you need pee break. I re-learned that the hard way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAKRbAGM8Nhrnj0KUNaxvDT0g5TJ967ENMFZO_OxL1RxRkP1pjDGiTKzVGvKBRklp6qC8NNePIBseeQcAMCaQqOJuw3dQNhG0jvzzoQtBeLnC8k9k0iXysEic3qMskQgCcPtVsrHnALw/s1600/Rest.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="271" data-original-width="406" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxAKRbAGM8Nhrnj0KUNaxvDT0g5TJ967ENMFZO_OxL1RxRkP1pjDGiTKzVGvKBRklp6qC8NNePIBseeQcAMCaQqOJuw3dQNhG0jvzzoQtBeLnC8k9k0iXysEic3qMskQgCcPtVsrHnALw/s200/Rest.JPG" width="200" /></a><span style="text-align: left;">Now, I'm the person who buys at least a pack of gum in exchange for restroom privileges. I don't expect something for nothing. And I try to be responsible in stopping at places where there are lots of options. But one of our stops didn't have much in the way of accommodations. It might have bee</span>n Pennsylvania. But it could have been New Hampshire or Massachusetts. Hard to remember as I was rather desperate and as you'll see below, most of the trip was just a long blur of trees. </div>
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The restroom in question <span style="text-align: left;">was one door halfway round the back of the building. Both the sign on the door and the guy at the counter claimed you didn't need a key and that if the door wouldn't open, it was occupied.</span></div>
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I tried to open the door, read the sign and crossed my legs some more. Went inside to check that I could still read English. The clerk confirmed the door wasn't locked. I hobbled back to the doorway and tried the knob again. Whoever was in there did not respond. I'd bet $10 no one was in there, and the clerk was laughing at me. </div>
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I waited a little bit more, bit my lip and finally said screw it. They must have that somewhat secluded corner behind the place but within site of a little traveled road there for a reason. I put my money on the fact that the few motorists were eyeing the imminent stop slight rather than the lady crouched down by the trash cans. For all they knew, I was tying my shoe. Which is, of course, what I was doing.</div>
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State-run rest stops are the way to go. They have more toilets than visitors. The buildings are clean and offer lots of soap and touchless faucets, flushers, dryers and doorways. I'd have left a tip had I seen a place to do it.</div>
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Here's that blur of trees, I mentioned. Gold star if you can correctly name the state they're in.</div>
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We were all a bit worn out from all the driving, but wouldn't have missed it. While my biggest disappointment on the trip came in the form of a bad pee stop, Alison's came while she was driving. The rule is "Driver Picks the Music" and she and the Captain were rocking out to the song from Rocky Horror Time Warp. </div>
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She claims she carefully timed her driving so she could jump to the left lane and then step to the right. "He didn't even notice," she said later.</div>
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Jeff had no reason to be disappointed as we made two side trips to pick up craft beer for him and his buddies. This morning, we surprised him with a walk-to-brunch at Delicia and some Crocs sneakers he's been wanting. He and Ali are now watching <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt2359704/">JoJo's Bizarre Adventure</a>, a Manga series she's gotten him into. With dinner prepared by Ali and me still to come, it's not a bad way to spend Father's Day, I'd reckon.</div>
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-66476046173886448212020-05-31T11:19:00.003-07:002020-05-31T11:19:43.435-07:00WeedsSometimes when I'm toiling in the yard, it's because it needs it. But sometimes it's because I'm trying to overcome a mental challenge, calm down from being angry or I'm just in need of peace.<br />
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It usually works. But not this weekend.<br />
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We can all agree that murder is wrong, can't we? And when it's perpetrated and protected by those sworn to protect and serve, it's especially egregious? Property damage isn't murder, but it's also wrong, right?<br />
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I understand how sometimes people get carried away. But I worry that much of the violence we've seen across the country and even here in Indianapolis was instigated, physically this weekend, by people who have an interest in civil unrest or even war. Peaceful protesters were on edge, and many had already gone home when the first glass was shattered. For those who lingered past the peaceful dismissal, the act of destruction triggered more acts and that quickly raged out of control.<br />
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I've never had to fear police. I've never had to fear whether my child could drive, engage in horseplay with her friends, run down the street, go bird watching in a public park and have to pay for those acts with her life. But people of color do. Every day. In America.<br />
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Kneeling in silent, peaceful protest in the hopes of calling attention to this terrible inequality was met with hate and anger from the highest levels of our government.<br />
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Now, after yet another black man was killed by police, and in the middle of a pandemic where it seemed people of all colors were working together to help each other through it, we are waking up to burnt buildings, broken windows and more death.<br />
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I don't have enough weeds in my garden to get my brain to understand how humans can treat each other so badly.<br />
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Many of my friends are speaking out, protesting, posting poignant phrases. I haven't done much of that because I don't know that it matters what I say or post. But I keep hearing that phrase of "evil persists when good men say and do nothing" in its face.<br />
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I told a group of my friends that I'm not joining a peace processional today because even though it's outside, I suspect it'll be crowded. There's a part of me that wants it to be crowded to illustrate that there are people of all color standing up for the equal treatment of all. There's another part of me that worries we'll see even more cases of COVID-19 because someone in that crowd shares it.<br />
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I'm not mingling with strangers these days. I'm barely mingling with friends and family. COVID-19 is as real as racism, and I want no part of either.<br />
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Is that saying and doing nothing in the face of evil, or is it responsible parenting? I don't know.<br />
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I'm feeling broken this weekend, friends. I suspect you are, too.<br />
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Let me know if you want me to weed for you. And somehow, lets find a way to weed out racism from each of our lives. It's insidious. It's evil. It's hate. Most of us don't want any part of it for ourselves or for others. Right?<br />
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I'm seriously asking.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-80175154517006747142020-05-24T16:05:00.001-07:002020-05-24T16:07:27.109-07:00For Whom the (Dinner) Bell Tolls.... (it's not for me.)It's widely acknowledged by those who know me that I'm not the world's best cook. I'm generally OK with that. I don't find joy in cooking. And people expect to eat every stinking day.<br />
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I used to love to back with Ali back before she got all fancy and started measuring things by weight and making complicated recipes. That's still super fun for her, and we get the benefits of it, but I'm more the sous chef/dishwasher in that equation.<br />
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Jeff loves to cook, and like Ali, there's no recipe too complicated for him to try. In the weeks of sheltering at home, he's borne the biggest burden of putting dinner together. We generally fend for ourselves for breakfast and lunch, though we sometimes will double the salad or sandwiches we start if the other happens to want lunch at the same time.<br />
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Ali remains solidly against sandwiches unless they're hot dogs or hamburgers, and her lunches are usually Ramen or pizza or cereal depending on when she stumbles out of bed.<br />
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The other day, Jeff tried a recipe that had pork marinating in grapefruit juice all day. It was fine, but not as exotic as he'd hoped. Ali has made dinner using a recipe from our friend Miss Sidi, and another one from an African food cookbook I'd bought her years ago and she'd never used. My meals since March have included a stir fry that started with a Birds-eye-bag, my signature lasagna and, hmmm. I'm not sure of what else. Sausage and peppers one night, for sure. A quiche weeks ago? Oh! Two dishes from the "At Home" section of the NY Times in recent weeks.<br />
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"I really haven't been doing much lately when it comes to dinner," I remarked, more to myself than anyone else.<br />
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"Nope," he agreed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrhC88T2HYMNU7dTpYJYX7M2yaHD0dz1hppX_gdBftruP9eb6uowfsAzcJJCKae455iEKOmAEoCCna-Ks6gGS5M-wGktu4C52KRBRHL8rFrciifUY-mzwaZauqAoybZatdXeNYAco1SI/s1600/IMG-2073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKrhC88T2HYMNU7dTpYJYX7M2yaHD0dz1hppX_gdBftruP9eb6uowfsAzcJJCKae455iEKOmAEoCCna-Ks6gGS5M-wGktu4C52KRBRHL8rFrciifUY-mzwaZauqAoybZatdXeNYAco1SI/s320/IMG-2073.jpg" width="240" /></a>I offered to cook more often, but reminded my dinner companions that I don't really have a big range. After a while of agreeing with me but then deciding it had gone on a wee bit too long, Ali started defending me. She likes my sausage and peppers, for example, which Jeff decries because the vegetables aren't crispy like you'd get in a Chinese restaurant.<br />
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"That's not how we like them," we argued to no avail. Jeff is, above all things, a devotee of "real" chefs and their techniques.<br />
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Anyway, the end result was me cooking dinner last night. We took a family walk to the Fresh Market for some produce and bread. Ali and I were going to lay in the sun and read, and I'd planned to join her as soon as my meal prep was done. By the time I'd assembled all the marinades, washed and cut the veggies, she was starting to toast.<br />
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Dinner was fine. Like Jeff's grapefruit and pork, my pork hadn't absorbed much of the orange and lemon juice and zest I'd scraped and squeezed until my biceps complained. I enjoyed mine with a glass from a bottle of wine our friend Sami had gifted us a while back.<br />
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The wine was superb. The roasted vegetables are part of my short culinary repertoire, so they were good. The pork? Well, it was fine. Which is part, I think, of my ambivalence to preparing food.<br />
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Putting it all together had robbed me of time I could have spent lazing in the sun and it wasn't a meal we'll remember -- or duplicate.<br />
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To be clear, I love good food and have the chubby frame to prove it. But even when your dish comes out as perfectly as the recipe describes and everyone loves it, it's gone in 15 minutes, leaving only a kitchen full of dirty dishes and soiled napkins in its wake.<br />
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Now, I've had some great times in the kitchen with Ali and/or Jeff making food, listening to music and kidding around. We can even have fun cleaning up. But we've had wonderful times with take-out, too. In fact, we had King Rib just the other day at a living room floor picnic. And THAT, we will do again. And again.<br />
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My point, I guess, is that for me, the gathering around the food is more important than the origin of the food. Betty Crocker I am not. But I'll try harder to contribute to the dinner chore.<br />
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In other news, Ali talked me into doing a You Tube yoga workout called <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oRn8Igk_KW4">Psychetruth Fat Burning Yoga with Sanela Osmanovic</a>. Sanela is a lovely young woman who has zero body fat but a sunny disposition. She knows she looks good, and I suspect she knows that her audience may not.<br />
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She's a gentle torturer, though, and tries really hard to sound like she's in as much pain as you are. She's not. You know she's not. But she tries so hard to empathize you keep trying to keep up.<br />
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It helps, slightly, if your 19-year-old daughter is also in pain as she gasps, "Come on, Mom. You got this. You can do it."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhua9SAv31n4cPlHMT0Ja_yX9wE1WJhSOdrO1uVyJ8k63h1CilTA6czybbx1O_GbkEwTmJG8rTqDnD33Wi1Ahe5cI5sD4e78nGSmNoVSv-mzjy_Olreze-Za4h03pRa3wUh8m83Tgk6EtU/s1600/Sanela.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="871" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhua9SAv31n4cPlHMT0Ja_yX9wE1WJhSOdrO1uVyJ8k63h1CilTA6czybbx1O_GbkEwTmJG8rTqDnD33Wi1Ahe5cI5sD4e78nGSmNoVSv-mzjy_Olreze-Za4h03pRa3wUh8m83Tgk6EtU/s320/Sanela.JPG" width="320" /></a>It's like Sanela in stereo. Before she let us go, our new friend Sanela reminded us that we'd done a great job working on our bodies and we needed to remember to make it a part of our routine, and to also not negate our efforts by eating bad foods.<br />
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Jeff wandered through as we toughed it out. Proving that he IS a great husband, he encouraged us and did not take pictures. Although, later, as we laid around in pain, flinching at the thought of what the morning would bring when we tried to move, he asked if we were going to do it again today.<br />
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We have put dates with Sanela on the calendar for every three days. Ali is here all summer and we've pledged to keep each other honest in our goals. Day one, I had dinner and wine. Ali had dinner, and mac-n-cheese at midnight. So, you know, we're easing into it.<br />
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Today, despite my stiffness, I joined Jeff on a bike ride. Ali stayed home and did an arm work-out. I was worried that I wouldn't be able to walk once I got off the bike, but so far, so good. I went straight to the bathroom, downed two Aleve and showered for a good 10 minutes. Now, I'm finishing Sami's wine.<br />
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My guess is Sanela doesn't drink wine. I should introduce her to Sami.Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-59493868862351575952020-05-17T13:37:00.002-07:002020-05-17T13:37:42.279-07:00A cuter, furrier and more annoying rooster<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My friend Andrea lives just a few blocks from me, and for months she's been asking me if I hear the neighborhood rooster. I finally heard it a few weeks ago, and learned that city roosters aren't as devoted to the crack of dawn as the legendary country crowers.</div>
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Of late, I have been awoken, though, by what I thought was some other winged creature has taken to serenading me by weak sunlight. It wouldn't be so bad if there was any kind of variation of tone and if it didn't go on for so long. I counted 200 "chik-chik-chiks" on Friday morning before I gave in and got up. Click <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bGMeqm4W9Uw">here</a> for a strikingly similar, but shorter, performance.</div>
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I laid there, counting, and wondering what the hell kind of bird has that staying power. It was like a woodpecker drilling through a forest of Redwoods. It just wouldn't stop. Not even, it seemed, for a breath. </div>
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Later that day, I mentioned it to Ali. "Oh, that a**hole," she said. "Yeah, I've heard it, too." </div>
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Saturday morning, Jeff heard it start after I'd been to the bathroom. "It's the toilet," I said, half-way back to slumber land. </div>
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"There is no way that's the toilet," he said.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26HumWfTkYra8pAYVLegPcIxqX8Zls7mF6LOdoHFF5Xwxp4swA3O_D87L48axNazFiI77Q4R0q_uqerbIoCxOpGCSlPELE_usEnXmLD3ednG6bFWrznA5VflCNwDhqm6GoLAMfa7enP0/s1600/Chipmunk.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="283" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj26HumWfTkYra8pAYVLegPcIxqX8Zls7mF6LOdoHFF5Xwxp4swA3O_D87L48axNazFiI77Q4R0q_uqerbIoCxOpGCSlPELE_usEnXmLD3ednG6bFWrznA5VflCNwDhqm6GoLAMfa7enP0/s200/Chipmunk.JPG" width="200" /></a>I laid there and listened. Sure enough, it was the "chik-chik-chiker" back on alarm-clock duty. I let it go a while and then got up and peered through my window, trying to identify the alarmist. It took me a while, but I spotted him sitting on a brick that hides the end of a drain pipe in front of one of my garden beds. </div>
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We've seen him scurrying inside that pipe for seemingly no reason but also to escape the neighbor's cat. He stays in there for hours, so we've wondered how decked out his little hideaway is and how often he has to redecorate when the water wooshes through.</div>
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Tiger Lilly, the cat lurks by the pipe every so often hoping the chipmunk won't know she's there. One day, apparently bored of waiting for her prey to emerge, she peed on the pipe and stalked away. </div>
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Another day, I saw her trotting up the drive (on the other side of the house) with a board-straight chipmunk dangling from her mouth. As she triumphantly marched into her own yard, I gave her a nod to congratulate her persistence only to see her a minute later staring balefully as the chipmunk as it escaped up the back fence. It was a slow escape, but clearly it had outsmarted the cat by playing dead.</div>
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Given that it's Tiger Lilly who's bullying it, I don't know why the chipmunk is spending its mornings waking ME up. By all rights, it should be sitting outside Tiger Lilly's window. </div>
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Between the chipmunks, rabbits and squirrels, the antics of the local wild and not-so-wild life has been mostly entertaining.</div>
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<br />Except for this morning when Jeff discovered a squirrel (probably) had defiled my newest flower bed. I'd driven down to Jasonville to pick up some artwork fashioned by my sister, Deb, and her husband, Steve. I'd always known she was talented, but Steve's stepped up with great welding and other skills lately and they make all kinds of fun stuff. Their latest work are these big metal flowers created out of an rotary hoe. I almost snagged a shovel that has a sunflower cut out of the shovel end of the tool. Instead, I limited myself to three metal flowers that just barely fit into my top-down car.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwMEYX51i9g5DqyjrbloT_PFIuhoDPRxfvJ4tG2K2pxiwvjS9ulj-ynWAuSrWKoRXyvM03hsHgmZVNcimQ5mHUjg0kqWn1tw4rYUBPnu-NOiCBkuhB-uiZGLvgWiqXDfCyRDq5drHy30/s1600/IMG-2046.mov" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPwMEYX51i9g5DqyjrbloT_PFIuhoDPRxfvJ4tG2K2pxiwvjS9ulj-ynWAuSrWKoRXyvM03hsHgmZVNcimQ5mHUjg0kqWn1tw4rYUBPnu-NOiCBkuhB-uiZGLvgWiqXDfCyRDq5drHy30/s320/IMG-2046.mov" width="179" /></a>In addition to the "flowers" she sent me home with succulents and pots of a new ground cover, which is a Seedum variety.<br />
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I'd put them on either side of the new flowers and between hydrangeas I planted last year in my back yard where I've slowly been pushing back some creeping myrtle. Overnight, a critter dumped over one of the pots of ground cover so I'm hoping the broken off bits will take root. My first suspect is the guy in the video to your right. He's as brave as the chipmunk is loud.<br />
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We've done a bit of yard work this year, including the relocation of a ratty looking kindling pile that used to live on the west side of our garage where it greeted Lois -- owner of the oasis next door.<br />
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I moved the brush pile behind the shed where it's much harder to see and replaced it with some Black-eyed Susans, a hosta, a mound of basil and a clump of cilantro. Behind all of that, I sprinkled a long line of Lois's sunflower seeds. If my squirrel friend doesn't feast on sunflower seeds, she should have something much nicer to look at this summer.<br />
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Jeff and Ali were slow to embrace the woodpile relocation plan as they'll have to walk 25 extra steps to dump sticks or for fire fire, but they're coming around to the aesthetics.<br />
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Ali helped me refill the porch pots with another round of Juncus Twisters, or as we call them, Medusa plants. Ali found it last year, and our first one stayed green nearly through winter. The dog and cat that guard them have lost the solar glow over the years, and they do nothing to intimidate the wildlife, but I still like them.<br />
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Ali was having a good time with them until a six-inch-long earth worm protested her soil displacement. No amount of reasoning with her about how the worm is a sign that the soil is good was enough to get her to get back to filling that pot. I'll have more luck with her silencing the chipmunk.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-11788224453098472092020-05-10T16:10:00.001-07:002020-05-10T16:10:43.382-07:00Celebration in isolation; good neighbors in abundanceIn the past week, Alison turned 19, finished her freshman year at Purdue, Jeff returned to 450 North for the best pizza in the state (and some beer) and we celebrated Mother's Day.<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfTVaw7rOcEWe7PUxucvDf6yXgxYdTb7CrFKNNFrnq06PSCtHquo2b7VQxR9_1x3JmSMCaWhIS9ULeUgFBVsD89Q9g9J3NBXjtFuChqYCBzbq6bVi_nxncTDhGFLg8Ea4CZXuIGydJYA/s1600/IMG-2035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1585" data-original-width="1600" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJfTVaw7rOcEWe7PUxucvDf6yXgxYdTb7CrFKNNFrnq06PSCtHquo2b7VQxR9_1x3JmSMCaWhIS9ULeUgFBVsD89Q9g9J3NBXjtFuChqYCBzbq6bVi_nxncTDhGFLg8Ea4CZXuIGydJYA/s200/IMG-2035.jpg" width="200" /></a>Even in isolation, it was a lot and my pants are reminding me just how much it's been. But #YOLO, amIright?</div>
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Also, it should be pointed out that Ali's birthday and final exams came at the same time. She allowed us about 30 minutes of creme brulee (for her) breakfast and gifts before she went back to studying. The girl's focus is impressive, and seems to be paying off well.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzun9SmW8LvRSPwKjjTWEfLgFH-1vuz1IhzSoX5FLthkh6_TYxV_vCMESQj-tHRwBM-rrIRcZAOh6nA-a5QCvGV0WHq1LEBqHY73f-ZRkrYAz5P-LNSCQ859B60q05NzVXeOQXQvmOLA/s1600/IMG-2039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibzun9SmW8LvRSPwKjjTWEfLgFH-1vuz1IhzSoX5FLthkh6_TYxV_vCMESQj-tHRwBM-rrIRcZAOh6nA-a5QCvGV0WHq1LEBqHY73f-ZRkrYAz5P-LNSCQ859B60q05NzVXeOQXQvmOLA/s320/IMG-2039.JPG" width="320" /></a>She compared work load with a few high school friends who surprised her with a properly distanced and longer-than-expected visit. They're all at different colleges. Shockingly, the demands of a chemistry student at Purdue who is taking more hours than her parents advised are greater than those of other universities.</div>
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Not that her friends are coasting. They're all amazing young women who will be excelling in things like architecture and business, marketing and engineering. They've eased into college life a little bit more sanely than our redhead.</div>
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Like me, Ali is blessed with great friends. (My sweet friend Tina did a door drop to send yummy caramel/cheddar popcorn as a little MD gift.) Ali's friend, Nikki, brought over a massive, dark chocolate ice-cream cake that I have tried desperately to stay away from. I had bites of Jeff's and just about died. She came back three days later with a different and thankfully smaller one. Corey brought brownies. I'm telling you, the struggle is real. I'll be wearing a mummu soon and not because it'll be summer.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLqWo59JCdbht-pyYA6nT6eLOc0QjcXZmgUDmNB0Gwu7ZRAeZklEUf0DQOFMmlM9UVvNkDxbFqfAv0ah2okgRS5FJHXz_ThA-mo38cO1Gt2597vF7ICkYcLlqHgMEB7AsOUe3GscNopg/s1600/IMG-2031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1050" data-original-width="1600" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidLqWo59JCdbht-pyYA6nT6eLOc0QjcXZmgUDmNB0Gwu7ZRAeZklEUf0DQOFMmlM9UVvNkDxbFqfAv0ah2okgRS5FJHXz_ThA-mo38cO1Gt2597vF7ICkYcLlqHgMEB7AsOUe3GscNopg/s320/IMG-2031.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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We haven't received all of Ali's birthday gifts, nor did my Mother's Day gifts arrive on time. </div>
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I know about the double-wide hammock that Jeff ordered, the width of which is going to be necessary for just my own girth. But Ali is keeping her Mother's Day selection to herself. They conspired on breakfast and dinner and they agreed to accompany me on a really long walk right after breakfast to try to beat the predicted storm.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxLAVS0d2QjeOcTc9PLLFSHBsb9Ks8GhYDTitJqDvtmFnBIddvB8cnOVEiEF-vO2ba6Gegd7-_8HRzGZWnmEjpau5yUdFuyiBFTbSD-cmAzj1tWg772xr0AiuU0WpDLcbI3yhZ32LDHk/s1600/IMG-2040+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifxLAVS0d2QjeOcTc9PLLFSHBsb9Ks8GhYDTitJqDvtmFnBIddvB8cnOVEiEF-vO2ba6Gegd7-_8HRzGZWnmEjpau5yUdFuyiBFTbSD-cmAzj1tWg772xr0AiuU0WpDLcbI3yhZ32LDHk/s320/IMG-2040+%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a>The weather dipped enough to frost the flowers a bit, and we got a bit of the predicted wind and rain, but we had only momentary power losses. It snowed in Maine. As it was the same storm system that hit states apart, I should feel guilty that our family there got the short end of the weather stick. I'm trying. But I'm pretty happy that we got such a beautiful morning.<div>
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Before hitting the couch to celebrate my day a little more, I spent a little time after our walk moving our wood pile from the side of the garage where it smacks my lovely neighbor in the face every time she's out in her back yard. Lois has created an oasis in her yard, so I've been feeling the need to up my game -- something the Captain doesn't quite get but went along with. </div>
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He even burned a bunch of the sticks and debris in our chimenae while sharing a beverage and conversation -- distanced of course -- with Duane -- to lessen the job for me.</div>
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While I was relocating the remains of my unsightly woodpile behind our shed, and mostly out of Lois' sight, my neighbor across the back fence said hello. Matt was out battling the creeping myrtle, so we had a discussion about the stuff. It provides a great natural barrier between the houses as it covers up and sprouts even higher than the fence, but it also would take over the whole yard if left to its own, creeping devices. </div>
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His garage is directly behind our shed, he has a bunch of sticks and wood that I frankly have never noticed (Thank you, creeping myrtle.) We agreed that our joint no-man's land/utility right-of-way would be great space for a communal wood pile. He got my idea of having to keep up (or at least not offend Lois) right way.</div>
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"Oh, I know," he said, adding that in prior years neither of the neighbors on his other sides had done a lot to improve their yard, which had lulled him into the same complacent rut I was in. He, too, had taken note of the Lois Oasis. Which was why he was also working ahead of the storm. I may have committed Jeff to bringing the chainsaw over to help with some of the wood. </div>
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In other news, Jeff may have repaired the toilet tank I broke using other neighbors' advice.</div>
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"Yeah, the guys at Hedlund Hardware aren't convinced," Jeff reported. "But it's worth a try."</div>
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We'll see if the fix is really in. With Ali through finals, she's going to make me a batch of macaroons which are going to be payment to yet another neighbor who's agreed to sharpen my lawn mower blades.</div>
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We've been gathering for cookouts/drinking on the street -- safely distanced for the most part -- for the past couple of weeks so it's been great to renew acquaintances and remember who's talented or tooled in helpful ways. </div>
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Lois and I are planning to organize the next gathering. Here's hoping I don't break or neglect anything else. But even if I do, it appears there are plenty of neighbor to help me out. With Ali now footloose and not employed, I should have enough baked goods to barter.</div>
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And it'll be key to get them out of the house.</div>
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Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-60290331370001538182020-04-28T10:32:00.002-07:002020-04-28T10:32:20.776-07:00We're doin' the best we can, manYears ago, when the building now housing Luciana's Mexican Restaurant on Broad Ripple Avenue was a Greek place called Korey's, Jeff and I discovered avgolemono soup.<br />
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It was a life-saver when it was cold and drizzly outside or if you had a cold and were drizzly yourself. It was creamy and lemony and just wonderful. We'd get it for take-out before take-out became routine. Jeff tried for a while to find a recipe so he could make it at home and finally merged two that gets us 95 percent of the way there.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5pKXSnLdsrh4KDF_vNMPX8qPbsbHYJPWEdSIC-LwKzt_MsvmjgyUevstmoeVTbd33B9tsbdPiOzhXgRl4dYT5_PVV-uelY9UHe0oo7gfiVuaDeeD7v1fQwIyKG1_-jNRJeiP5LdxvRbM/s1600/IMG-2013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-HXUqxlgHtCStE0m6WTeo5sXCKOlZSvB93Is-WIpA9mzUnuy3BYOoGi-DzPw3U1kQD7ZrBpRFQ3cIRjqpZPGlCK82JISRCKlB11ldTd-A_Izxs71zxCqfjFvXdCDutd0QFXcBKNcGjc/s1600/IMG-2013.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_-HXUqxlgHtCStE0m6WTeo5sXCKOlZSvB93Is-WIpA9mzUnuy3BYOoGi-DzPw3U1kQD7ZrBpRFQ3cIRjqpZPGlCK82JISRCKlB11ldTd-A_Izxs71zxCqfjFvXdCDutd0QFXcBKNcGjc/s320/IMG-2013.jpg" width="320" /></a>He's been on a cooking kick lately as we've been sheltering in place and has hit some dishes out of the park -- couscous with chicken and olives and broccoli, his standard and awesome black bean soup, hunks of meat on the grill, pasta with home-made, fancy tomato sauce -- it's been delightful.<br />
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Last night, he broke out the avgolemono soup and paired it with the cous cous.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-SbqgBxyR4LD1p7IG35IW6go3Xdwc9Mofyyggg_sOGUrPrQN2ojb0rYrMwyoW-N0fspA4TOvJC5DsrV1ZcImvV5hu0D1hJSmqo17NyTJOq71_KqUuhf8zLXymEkAvHO7zNJ_sxFtN58/s1600/IMG-2012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2-SbqgBxyR4LD1p7IG35IW6go3Xdwc9Mofyyggg_sOGUrPrQN2ojb0rYrMwyoW-N0fspA4TOvJC5DsrV1ZcImvV5hu0D1hJSmqo17NyTJOq71_KqUuhf8zLXymEkAvHO7zNJ_sxFtN58/s320/IMG-2012.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
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Alison is an adventurous eater, but tends to eat one item at a time, rather than bites of this and that in rotation as most people in polite society are prone to do. After offering accolades for the cous cous, she and Jeff discussed the nuances of the dish as I stuck to the soup. I wasn't really paying attention to anything else, but Jeff discovered Alison soaking her pita in her soup bowl.<br />
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He inquired as to why she wasn't spooning it up in ecstasy.<br />
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"It's lemon milk soup, man," said. "I'm doin' the best I can."<br />
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It was as if she'd pulled out a bow and shot an arrow straight to his heart.<br />
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"And I totally didn't pour half my bowl into Mom's when you were in the kitchen," she informed him.<br />
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I'm more known for ordering out than crafting gourmet meals, and I rarely wax poetic over the contents even in those rare wins. Jeff likes to discuss where the ingredients were born, died and prepared for shipment. He misses the mark far less often than I do.<br />
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So I just enjoyed the repartee. Plus, I had more soup than I deserved.<br />
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In other news, Ali and I were bored the other night and decided we needed facials. Last night, we binged on Botched and agreed that no one needs to look exactly like Barbie.<br />
<br />I posited that men really don't have a say when it comes to boob jobs. Ali retorted that she prefers they speak up.<br />
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"That way you know who to dump," she said.<br />
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Keepers? Cooks. Even if they sometimes make lemon milk soup.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-43009187328244634452020-04-19T09:24:00.000-07:002020-04-19T09:24:16.904-07:00Here's to another week at home, #Covid styleAlison is helping Jeff make caramel-stuffed, quadruple chocolate cookies, so any progress I'd made in fighting the Corona15 is about to regress.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pXS1Meu-Fe44hfnIba5cHn77CUCP8-Ow-lyzIxVkgLwIM0W1rL92q1ucSjm7eaiawg8veZQAJ2ZRWEhnaRZNi7dKuopJ-etxQbT_G7L3sK_QFit6mLHHkv9Od3ZwIuhSRKagXkPkf1o/s1600/IMG-2004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8pXS1Meu-Fe44hfnIba5cHn77CUCP8-Ow-lyzIxVkgLwIM0W1rL92q1ucSjm7eaiawg8veZQAJ2ZRWEhnaRZNi7dKuopJ-etxQbT_G7L3sK_QFit6mLHHkv9Od3ZwIuhSRKagXkPkf1o/s320/IMG-2004.jpg" width="320" /></a>It's an amazing cookie. Anything made with four kinds of chocolate inside is guaranteed to make you swoon and then lick the crumbs that fell in your vicinity on the floor.<br />
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<a href="https://www.averiecooks.com/caramel-stuffed-quadruple-chocolate-cookies//">The recipe </a>came to us years ago from Kirsten Jasheway who hired Ali to make them as a surprise for her husband, Dwayne. He loved them, and we appropriated the recipe, which I encourage you to do. No sense in us being the only ones to gain weight.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAej8ARw6cL6cIzVwWMXLzfFDtBpjfs9CEr3NwXq_i9ctYIkC7yryj3IWc43lNWrPmOz0W4EYbMalhF7dgxrMGjn_qnTPKJrwfMhipz7hHt77ddklIH0dTQZ_j944Ec66FPY6nNH_5Uy8/s1600/IMG-2006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAej8ARw6cL6cIzVwWMXLzfFDtBpjfs9CEr3NwXq_i9ctYIkC7yryj3IWc43lNWrPmOz0W4EYbMalhF7dgxrMGjn_qnTPKJrwfMhipz7hHt77ddklIH0dTQZ_j944Ec66FPY6nNH_5Uy8/s320/IMG-2006.jpg" width="240" /></a>You'll thank me. Or you can hire Ali, whose baking skills have only increased since what may have been her first paid baking gigs. Selling cupcakes with Jenna at Canterbury Park may precede that event, but I don't think that's quite the same thing.<br />
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Anyway, I have quadruple chocolate in my future. I haven't eaten yet, so I'm think the first one is weight-gain free.<br />
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Much like you, I presume, we've had a pretty uneventful week. In between working from home, Jeff has continued playing Tim the Tool Man Taylor.<br />
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We have a replacement light over the kitchen sink -- a project we've been eyeing for at least five years -- and we've finally put a light over the kitchen counter, which we've been talking about doing for 19 years. Clearly, it wasn't that big of a problem.<br />
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We also have a new router that's allowing me to work in my happy place -- the back porch. (More thanks to Alan Ng whose Ng Computer Services you should be your IT Help Desk, too.)<br />
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I've deep-cleaned more parts of the house and Ali successfully took a couple big exams. Today may include some yard work for me, and for sure for Alison who's helping Tracy and Eric keep their Indy house looking sharp. They've decided it's not their forever home and I think it sold (pending) in a week. My guess is the new neighbors won't be as much fun as E&T.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykXPA-zGJwUBvUZ6v_gf07PwieF4B8aIlEzXDhwBP8OUxTOUXWVMuI-4PLPKWIrObDnkBUuCI-_eI79X56bxSYiivEx3p7Cyd5-Pe_Fp-wmbCr_iZ19to57uZTu4V25Yhjfb9VNJcIdU/s1600/IMG-2002+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykXPA-zGJwUBvUZ6v_gf07PwieF4B8aIlEzXDhwBP8OUxTOUXWVMuI-4PLPKWIrObDnkBUuCI-_eI79X56bxSYiivEx3p7Cyd5-Pe_Fp-wmbCr_iZ19to57uZTu4V25Yhjfb9VNJcIdU/s320/IMG-2002+%25281%2529.jpg" width="240" /></a>My weekend got started with a Zoom gathering for my TechPoint friends. Before Covid19, we were planning a fancy gala that would have been last night. A group of us got dressed up - some of us Corona mullet-style with fancy on top and sweats on bottom -- and raised a glass anyway. That preceded my Zoom Book Club, where I continued imbibing from the same bottle.<br />
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By the time Book Club started, I was already sleepy. It might not have been my finest hour as a Book Clubber. I truly am a cheap date. Jeff and I finished the bottle the next afternoon.<br />
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Alison's 19th birthday is coming up fast. Given the more we're learning about #Covid19, we're even less prone to have her out and about. Sure, she's young and healthy and her asthma is mile, but there's no reason to risk her health. I told her I didn't really want to encourage people to come by - even from the road - to give her good wishes.<br />
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"That is the last thing I want," she said. "I mean, I'd love to get texts and calls and stuff, but I don't want a lot of people driving by like that."<br />
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She seems sincere, and she's never been one to want a spotlight. So don't think I'm a bad parent if I don't organize a parade for her or have big signs in the front yard. We'll do something, and I'm sure we'll have a new box farm to deal with as I start online shopping. But what the celebration will be, is anyone's guess.<br />
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For now, we still have booze, toilet paper, two working toilets and soon, cookies. Pretty sure we'll be okay for another few days.<br />
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Cheers to however you're managing.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-24275483880129148962020-04-15T10:36:00.000-07:002020-04-15T10:36:02.604-07:00Quarantine LessonsIf Covid-19 quarantine has taught me anything, it's that it's really important to be careful about who you pick to share your quarters. For example, you want partners/roommates/housemates who:<div>
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1. Will take his/her turn making the pot roast;</div>
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2. Use the recipe that calls for red wine; and</div>
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3. Set aside most of the said wine for direct consumption.</div>
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It's a bonus if the partners/roommates/housemates will clean up on occasion, pitch in for laundry duty and know when to find themselves their won corner of the space and stay there. It's also helpful if you have partners/roommates/housemates who don't break important things you all need. <span style="font-size: x-large;">⬇</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKJBSaFIp9gQZOIh0UdwxA0OW113iMg633BziuujjEudarbYH0Sz9AdVga8pZvM4G42i33ZfxN1ZO4zugTB5MwcG7296EdkZqIJFjVrE7zAbNQ_SRqM17Q3G-5KMHSxobzdcKgb9sjYk/s1600/cracked+toilet+tank.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1454" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGKJBSaFIp9gQZOIh0UdwxA0OW113iMg633BziuujjEudarbYH0Sz9AdVga8pZvM4G42i33ZfxN1ZO4zugTB5MwcG7296EdkZqIJFjVrE7zAbNQ_SRqM17Q3G-5KMHSxobzdcKgb9sjYk/s320/cracked+toilet+tank.jpg" width="290" /></a>Chez Reed has been blessed in some of the areas mentioned above and cursed in others. Overall it's made for a tolerable quarantine. We also have ample liquor, food and toilet paper in the house. So that helps.</div>
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We are down one toilet, though, and it's totally my fault. I was working in the basement and I heard a funky noise coming from the downstairs bathroom. The Captain advised me first that it didn't exist and then second that it didn't matter. But it persisted, so I took off the tank lid to find out why it was hissing a little bit. I pushed down the rubber thing that seals off the water, thinking it wasn't closing properly.</div>
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But when I went to put the lid back on the tank, my hands were wet and the thing slipped. It landed against the tank. If you don't know what happens when a 20-pound block of enamel hits a hollowed-out block of enamel, I'll tell you: </div>
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<li>You curse and try to catch the slippery object.</li>
<li>You grab onto it and pray that it didn't damage anything.</li>
<li>You spy the fracturing and hear its crackle as it continues to spread.</li>
<li>You put the lid back on, step back and gulp because you know duct tape isn't going to fix it.</li>
<li>You swallow hard and go find the Captain to confirm that yeah, we're going to have to shut the water off and get a new toilet/tank.</li>
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Fortunately, we have two other toilets, but the quarantine space inside our quarantine space has been compromised. I guess the next sick person we need to separate from the herd can pee in the shower.<br />
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Hopefully we'll get it fixed before we need to double isolate anyone else. On another bit of household consternation, Jeff added an extender to broaden the areas where we could all work online. It seemed awesome until my laptop stopped talking to some sites critical to my job.<br />
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Happily, we got nearly instantaneous professional help from Alan Ng, who used to be technically family (he's my cousin in-law's brother in-law.) He's now fully part of the clan at least as far I'm concerned. He not only helped us identify the issue, he's going to help with the fix that will broaden our modem strength but won't put up roadblocks for my PC.</div>
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On a funny note, within the same 12 hours of time I was trashing our toilet tank, my sister Donna took a hammer to what I think was frost build-up on her garage freezer. The door had been inadvertently been left ajar. So we're both going to soon contribute to the local economy with replacement/repairs. </div>
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In other news, the daffodils have gone by, my neighbors' tulips are trying to bloom, the flox is trying to come in and Easter came and went. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclVhVXhOhmlhlmf0TYroSESTzKaQnadO-hM7mHogbVtuM8GWNwqJA-7IIX_Gs4q_jYVwbD0DXDKF8FXA2mIPFJMtkpgLBqNcQJ_X1z3x2XDlJ6tqSenQJYAh8Gou-_2PlHiFjTKhhq0Q/s1600/Winduptoys.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="696" data-original-width="1104" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgclVhVXhOhmlhlmf0TYroSESTzKaQnadO-hM7mHogbVtuM8GWNwqJA-7IIX_Gs4q_jYVwbD0DXDKF8FXA2mIPFJMtkpgLBqNcQJ_X1z3x2XDlJ6tqSenQJYAh8Gou-_2PlHiFjTKhhq0Q/s200/Winduptoys.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEikcLUFm6RKySC25407QBHix2aSOHehZoJbU2JlUtlWMun0-dls01ejcRKD2iN4n7u2GhCkM_e6pX6DFDcqhxVIprhTfC4AN5waTfvOIuKP0Ui-hbGXiJlwKtAWh9oDhZUzTGy29dF0A/s1600/Easterbaskets2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEikcLUFm6RKySC25407QBHix2aSOHehZoJbU2JlUtlWMun0-dls01ejcRKD2iN4n7u2GhCkM_e6pX6DFDcqhxVIprhTfC4AN5waTfvOIuKP0Ui-hbGXiJlwKtAWh9oDhZUzTGy29dF0A/s320/Easterbaskets2020.jpg" width="240" /></a>My housemates were not as excited to see their Easter baskets as I thought they would be but they didn't reject their treats. I guess 18 may be the end of this ritual, though I suspect had The Bunny not hopped by, there would have been a bit of melancholy.</div>
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We've had weather whiplash, too. I had a few online meetings on the porch and outside under Lois' magnolia. Ali and I even napped in the sunshine one day. But now it's like winter is back. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuVKkOUupnRiwlyuvDXhVfEw5vU5bC5G2qfVbqifBR00tTXjFe6yKWU1wTNxqMK_lqR8hdxa4D80NSrNvthTmxCWwX5s3Lt_lhom4IGtpAAazOrpqxh9qGh-v3RK72apD8bTP8nShth4/s1600/Magnolia.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDuVKkOUupnRiwlyuvDXhVfEw5vU5bC5G2qfVbqifBR00tTXjFe6yKWU1wTNxqMK_lqR8hdxa4D80NSrNvthTmxCWwX5s3Lt_lhom4IGtpAAazOrpqxh9qGh-v3RK72apD8bTP8nShth4/s320/Magnolia.jpg" width="320" /></a>My magnolia was glorious this year, but has flagged a bit under high winds and winter's return.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOOAqHumtuG4xXhU8Q69UkI_OacetaJCTGHe99cTAr6Th9Hsydms4Ec9_Tfqk9eGuSt2AyMAHYaYxvA1UHPLdnYgPq_xlVA-mSZs9MeckM1ZhzySnhAGnOas79qnJCUbzitlx8H8hI_uU/s1600/Momdrills.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1295" data-original-width="971" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOOAqHumtuG4xXhU8Q69UkI_OacetaJCTGHe99cTAr6Th9Hsydms4Ec9_Tfqk9eGuSt2AyMAHYaYxvA1UHPLdnYgPq_xlVA-mSZs9MeckM1ZhzySnhAGnOas79qnJCUbzitlx8H8hI_uU/s200/Momdrills.JPG" width="149" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKIi0yWDTRq2f7vArNTk2UVV371Nyekh22l-pkfkEO6Nv78Kbn-pu6i6mN1f6RctyRGl442uhl6kPWkWAZs1KKHQHLGHc4B2zefxkjO_MNwmH2RUQQGY-icGlMj9BTy_eHphs11H1Vg0/s1600/Porchtable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIKIi0yWDTRq2f7vArNTk2UVV371Nyekh22l-pkfkEO6Nv78Kbn-pu6i6mN1f6RctyRGl442uhl6kPWkWAZs1KKHQHLGHc4B2zefxkjO_MNwmH2RUQQGY-icGlMj9BTy_eHphs11H1Vg0/s200/Porchtable.jpg" width="200" /></a>I got a lesson in using the power drill, and finally got around to putting legs on the cheese wheel container-table our cousin Mary gave me at Christmas. It's a perfect addition to the back porch. </div>
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Jeff's been a regular handyman, too. He's fixed a drawer, did some fine sanding/gluing on the cheese table and replaced our shower heads so we feel like we're getting hotel service when we remember that we need to actually wash our whole bodies.<br />
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If only he were confident in his toilet repair abilities...</div>
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Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-48886596067779474442020-04-05T13:49:00.001-07:002020-04-05T13:49:21.179-07:00How mulch do you love me?Neither the Captain nor Ali are fans of yard work, but it generally works out just fine because I do like yard work. I work out a lot of frustrations out there. I work through things I want to write. I feel like I get a good work out. It's all good.<br />
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But when you order 4 cubic yards of mulch and have it dumped in the street in front of your house, it begs for an all-hands-on-deck kind of weekend. We were all asleep when the doorbell rang around 9 a.m. to announce the mulch delivery. I'd told Jeff I was going to order it, but he didn't realize it was happening as quickly as it did. I got dressed and started working on the pile, which took up about half a lane of the road and peaked at about 4.5 feet.<br />
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Jeff had recycling and groceries to get, but Ali came out of the house to survey the situation. She volunteered to help, and I don't ever want to know if it was because the Captain called and told her to. I prefer to think she wanted to be there.<br />
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I gave her some options and she decided to clean up the weeds on the non-bed side of the rocks that hold in a flower bed that stretches from the street to the front stoop and over to the neighbor's wall. When she finished with that, she decided the lilies against the wall needed raking.<br />
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I would have been content to put mulch on top of the leaves, but neither Ali nor Jeff agreed.<br />
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All of that extra ambition resulted in about eight bags of yard waste, a good 12 hours of outside work this weekend and a few moans and groans along the way.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzBO-5CT_rgjp9ZnHn42kkD0efKUaaLotzorYis4Oa-iy_zn64rpmOANsyvG3QN8OOtUHmJg1-dcunEFTSZJJYH5lwSAbOFcOnJnZDyQ2PPzyQEBlLNbRRN4D7dmg5DnyQeJ7JPLql-ks/s1600/IMG_1979.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzBO-5CT_rgjp9ZnHn42kkD0efKUaaLotzorYis4Oa-iy_zn64rpmOANsyvG3QN8OOtUHmJg1-dcunEFTSZJJYH5lwSAbOFcOnJnZDyQ2PPzyQEBlLNbRRN4D7dmg5DnyQeJ7JPLql-ks/s320/IMG_1979.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
My back was complaining as I carefully placed mulch around my day lilies and it was then I remembered that these plants push themselves through the hard ground every year. A little bit of mulch isn't going to top them from poking through. After that, I was a little less gently.<br />
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On Saturday, with about one yard of mulch down, I must have been looking depressed. A neighbor came by and called out, "Just think about what it'll look like when you're done. You're almost there!"<br />
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Right. She was taking a stroll. I was leaving skin cells on my shovel handle.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurdguWifUFp0uQwKsilIy8QujaQNXKtzbgm_cLGaVSizTD0h4AA0Mx2jX3MY7Lz6xw0NyaC6663dr1JPNwkGqtFnJ05tq3tgoufi4WBR613y7OkkgeBpIamHHdTonZ84Qir0FLqHsmRM/s1600/IMG_1978.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurdguWifUFp0uQwKsilIy8QujaQNXKtzbgm_cLGaVSizTD0h4AA0Mx2jX3MY7Lz6xw0NyaC6663dr1JPNwkGqtFnJ05tq3tgoufi4WBR613y7OkkgeBpIamHHdTonZ84Qir0FLqHsmRM/s320/IMG_1978.jpg" width="320" /></a>About halfway through, Jeff reminded us it was time to head down to 450 North Brewing Co. He had some newly released beer on order, and Ali and I were going for the pizza and BBQ. It's an hour south of us but, man. So worth the trip.<br />
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It was drive-through service for both and we ate in the car before heading back home for more yard work. Our friends Eric and Tracy hired Ali to mow their yard weekly until their Broad Ripple house is sold. Hopefully they find another one that's better suited for them but still close to us.<br />
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"I could mow three or four yards after that," Ali declared after snarfing down her sandwich and a good portion of her fries.<br />
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Once home, Ali headed up to her paid gig, Jeff left to deliver beer to friends -- in a socially distanced way, of course -- and it was back to the mulch pile for me. Jeff got back fairly quickly and unearthed more leaves. We surrendered around 6 and put a tarp over the mulch.<br />
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It will be hard to get them back in the yard after this weekend of hard labor. Which is fine. It's mostly my domain anyway. And I need them to rest up for fall when the rakes, bags and blower will be in need again.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7XRhMNnuBgqnKHFHQTUYaPuhtR4tAwucIcnrHg0o9lz5dU5Q9FYSsrCNBtGLA_IaTeYLkNMs4wgsX8JGOMNib3vx2E_VKo0-GK6DnmHiEslH7ZgMoSNlttCnm-HZOzNFx0QXWa2PBYY/s1600/IMG_1975.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH7XRhMNnuBgqnKHFHQTUYaPuhtR4tAwucIcnrHg0o9lz5dU5Q9FYSsrCNBtGLA_IaTeYLkNMs4wgsX8JGOMNib3vx2E_VKo0-GK6DnmHiEslH7ZgMoSNlttCnm-HZOzNFx0QXWa2PBYY/s320/IMG_1975.jpg" width="240" /></a>She had just mentioned to her boyfriend that she loved the smell of mulch. "It makes me think of Spring and my mom doing yard work," she told him. Notice she didn't say, "My mom and me doing yard work."<br />
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Jason disagreed. A summer of Boy Scout fundraiser apparently had ended with mulch in his pores. It took months to get the smell out of his nose, he said.<br />
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It's been quite a week of Working From Home for all three of us. I'm grateful that I don't have one or more elementary or high school kids who have to finish their years e-learning. I'm more grateful that Alison has maintained her focus on her Purdue coursework.<br />
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She's hard core man and has given me "the hand" as Lynda and Amy would call it more than once. I'd invite her on a walk when I needed to get out of my chair. "Sorry, I'm working," she'd say.<br />
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I complimented her on her focus one evening after we'd all packed in the work day. "Yeah, how does it feel?" she asked with a grin.<br />
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"Huh?" I asked.<br />
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She claims there many, many times when she was younger that she'd asked to do something and I'd tell her that I was working but we'd get to it when I was done. It's probably true. Hopefully we did actually get to whatever it was she wanted. I suspect I don't score 100 percent on that.<br />
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One early evening, Ali was still working out some kind of complicated equation and Jeff and I took a walk around the neighborhood. We discovered the tiny, walk-up/drive-up Dairy Queen near us had 16 Dilly Bars on sale for $12.99. We didn't think we could get them home without melting, but we were tempted.<br />
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On Friday, we caught Ali on a light day, got out a beer backpack, filled it with ice packs and all three of us trekked over to see if the sale was still on. I don't know why they're so overstocked on Dilly bars, but it seemed wrong not to help them out.<br />
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We each had a frozen treat on the walk home, which took us by Indy Tacos, which had a huge sign out front reminding passersby that they were open for take-out.<br />
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That night we feasted like kings as we watched more of the Tiger King on Netflix. I blew through it during my basement confinement, but there are things I missed. And it's fun to hear their reaction.<br />
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In other news of note, Ali came out of her bathroom chortling to her father. "Dad! Dad! It finally happened. It finally happened!"<br />
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While some fathers might have been nervous about what had happened in there, the Captain was all ears.<br />
<br />
"What? What?" he asked.<br />
<br />
"We finally ran out of that awful Scott toilet paper and I have real toilet paper again," she exclaimed.<br />
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I hadn't told him that I'd rewarded her for her devotion to her studies. He assumed, however, that it was yet another sign that I love Ali more than I love him.<br />
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"Well your mother must have put all the Scot in our bathroom because we still have three more rolls of that one-ply, half-ply stuff in there," he groused.<br />
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I thought about reminding him that in this Covid-19 world, there are lots of people who would loooooo-ooooove to have his Scott tissue. But I was afraid he'd go find them.<br />
<br />
Anyway, the yard looks better than it has for years. Jeff and I are pounding Naproxen, and office work isn't at all unappealing. Which is good because we all have a lot of it -- and we're grateful for it given the numbers of unemployment in this Covid-19 world.<br />
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Hope you're all coping as well or better than we are. Stay physically distanced but virtually social. Wash your hands and find a fun mask to wear if you have to go out around people. We can get through this. Think about how hard it must for a flower to push through hard earth to reach the sunlight.That takes a lot of patience, time and perseverance. And when that hard work is over, there's another bit of beauty in the world.<br />
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Happy spring, everyone!<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-18065935965256192502020-03-29T20:49:00.001-07:002020-03-29T20:49:27.688-07:00It'll grow backWhen Ali was little and her hair was long with bangs, I was her stylist. It was too crazy curly to comb when dry, so I only combed it wet, and when it got a little too out of control, I'd whack a bit off the ends and we were good to go.<br />
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No joke. Her hair is glorious in color, thickness, body and curl. I'm certain that it's because she's tired of people complimenting her, that she went asymmetrical in high school, whacking it really short on one side and leaving it longish (but way shorter than she'd had it) on the other.<br />
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It's a cute cut. When it's maintained.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEfqfZPZu4IAXAntd-qhyphenhyphenIZTwpXIsFgdTjSMKRLEYlF424BCTN_gnSKn64P1NzXfWPiqRTC5M3srxWJUlV4nz1NSVV1RTGKaHy6j7B_bWry-kRHO9tnmHgIksXlyWvd45bhv-NNRxeNE/s1600/IMG_20200329_191725.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtEfqfZPZu4IAXAntd-qhyphenhyphenIZTwpXIsFgdTjSMKRLEYlF424BCTN_gnSKn64P1NzXfWPiqRTC5M3srxWJUlV4nz1NSVV1RTGKaHy6j7B_bWry-kRHO9tnmHgIksXlyWvd45bhv-NNRxeNE/s400/IMG_20200329_191725.jpg" width="400" /></a>Remember that Ali is the girl who in elementary school Febrezed herself rather than showering when I was on a work trip. I contributed to her lack of primness by pulling her tangles into a ponytail most days, and she hasn't really changed much even with the cute cut.<br />
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At Purdue, when her shagginess got the best of her, she had a friend cut it in the dorm bathroom.<br />
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"It's fine," she said.<br />
<br />
When I picked her up for a quick weekend visit, she'd had another dorm cut. Once home, she disappeared into the bathroom to "fix" what my expression had apparently deemed broken.<br />
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"Uh, you have a bald spot," I reported.<br />
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"I'll wear a hat," she said.<br />
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Fast-forward to today. "Mom, my hair is a mess. Feel the ends. I have split ends. Will you cut my hair."<br />
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I looked at her. "Seriously?"<br />
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"Feel this," she insisted.<br />
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I promised only that I wouldn't give her a bald spot. As I concentrated and listened to her telling me not to cut, it too short, just to get rid of the ends and "Don't cut my ear!" "Don't cut my neck!"<br />
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"Have I cut you?" I finally demanded.<br />
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"Not this time, but before," she said.<br />
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I haven't cut her hair since she was in high school, and I only once cut her finger while clipping her claws back. She carries a long grudge.<br />
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I don't have an "after" picture because she insisted on letting it air dry and since dinner cleanup (when it was still damp) has been ensconced in her room playing Dungeons & Dragons online with her friends. She's been laughing. 'Course, she doesn't have a mirror in her room.<br />
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But, hey. It'll grow back....<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3KGPEH9GTG1LWmhZ-s8uQ1vsEeh0sB7_bMXP5FTquDhayDkFumEKqL5njV6CI9pRgBcMQsOavrt8aBDFCCVh5e3XXFjhhnsu0qGpbYeVWuG7pfpSztCb7fEgGlft2txSV3koESWdme0/s1600/IMG_1968.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1262" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe3KGPEH9GTG1LWmhZ-s8uQ1vsEeh0sB7_bMXP5FTquDhayDkFumEKqL5njV6CI9pRgBcMQsOavrt8aBDFCCVh5e3XXFjhhnsu0qGpbYeVWuG7pfpSztCb7fEgGlft2txSV3koESWdme0/s320/IMG_1968.jpg" width="252" /></a>In other news, after two weeks in the basement getting over a cold that it seems like everyone and their brother in Indianapolis has had, I emerged healthy and ready for sunlight this weekend. I've bleached everything I touched, washed everything, including the family room couch and throw pillows and feel like we could safely have surgery down there.<br />
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I even made dinner Saturday night, cleaned the shed and picked up sticks in the yard. I'd put 5,000 steps on the desk cycle that came home with us from Maine when Jeff asked if I wanted to go on a walk. It was glorious. Today, I cleaned our shed and picked up sticks from the yard. My back hurts, but I'm back, baby.<br />
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My back porch office is ready for me as soon as it stays warm. Ali and Jeff had left a lot of her dorm stuff in there, but most of it's in the basement as she's home until fall now. One item I kept is a storage unit that she's decorated with stickers ala back when I was a news reporter and slapped political stickers all over a filing cabinet I still have. It's down in the basement. She told me it had inspired her to follow suit. So that was fun.<br />
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The first week of the past two weekends was our planned but corona-virused "Spring Break." Frankly, I don't know what they did that week other than bring me meals and wave from the doorways. Last week, I mostly worked and they found places to do their own school and office work.<br />
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Tomorrow dawns with three people needing internet access and the ability to focus on our various work. I plan to have the Captain at his desk in the basement, me on the back porch and Ali at the dining room table. The temperature may force me inside, but we'll figure it out.<br />
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At one point last week, Ali said Jeff and I were on separate conference calls on separate floors and "It was so loud!"<br />
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We've designated the downstairs guest room as the conference call/quiet space. If that doesn't work, we have my bedroom, I suppose. It's the farthest from the planned work spaces.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdB8Qhob_Yf9gAUe5R-EF-eDDa6viTNONI8M460Hpej3mZ7-3ehhQZofaHpaipW0BOvNo0-X8QMq9dOEW7b8LGFpL9-d0JFLwqk6vz1l-Asr0iM4TEj1zI4W6JN5HhHXqENPoEkhkZdk/s1600/IMG_1963.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKdB8Qhob_Yf9gAUe5R-EF-eDDa6viTNONI8M460Hpej3mZ7-3ehhQZofaHpaipW0BOvNo0-X8QMq9dOEW7b8LGFpL9-d0JFLwqk6vz1l-Asr0iM4TEj1zI4W6JN5HhHXqENPoEkhkZdk/s320/IMG_1963.jpg" width="240" /></a>Based on my friends' experience with small children during this shelter-in-place time, I'm grateful Alison is in college and dedicated to her studies. I don't know what I'd do with multiple elementary or high schoolers. My hat is off to those folks who are keeping it all together.<br />
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To your left is Alison's math work -- two of seven problems she had to solve. Let me just say this: I cannot help her with her schoolwork.<br />
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She's still dedicated to research chemistry. I like to think she'll be one of the ones saving us from repeat situations such as we find ourselves in today.<br />
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Hope you're doing well in your new normal. And hey, welcome to my work from home world. It's harder with the whole family around, and all the uncertainty of how long this will go on.<br />
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We'll get through it together. There are so many examples of people reaching out to do what they can for each other these days. If you're in need, I hope you find help. If you can help, I hope you will. Most of all, I hope we come out of this giving each other the benefit of the doubt and delivering well on that trust.<br />
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Good luck this week and the weeks ahead until someone's found a way to overcome this virus. Stay safe. Keep in touch. But from a distance.<br />
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Like Ali's hair, we'll all bounce back from this.<br />
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💗😀💓<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-45189859875614150472020-03-03T12:46:00.003-08:002020-03-03T12:46:46.732-08:00One Quarantined; One ReturnedAlison's outrage - or embarrassment - at me calling her RA to check if she was dead didn't last long. Or perhaps it sparked a memory of how good it can be here at Chez Reed because she sent the Captain and me a text last week asking if it was OK if she came home for a weekend visit.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYdNH4NMqGzo1ffsnCkGFOXiVY4X0_RvAn6FFZix3rg7CU-cTwtMOhaZOAUTLvwQDkvfkgjDdOH2WxLyZSCIqTr3PE4Xj0bIGYvOLH3ium4vIuwOtRlXgCEVwRygWbTxF9Ts0zNqxrTk/s1600/popcorn.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="649" data-original-width="446" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinYdNH4NMqGzo1ffsnCkGFOXiVY4X0_RvAn6FFZix3rg7CU-cTwtMOhaZOAUTLvwQDkvfkgjDdOH2WxLyZSCIqTr3PE4Xj0bIGYvOLH3ium4vIuwOtRlXgCEVwRygWbTxF9Ts0zNqxrTk/s200/popcorn.JPG" width="136" /></a><br />
As if she has to ask.<br />
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I, of course, immediately answered in the affirmative. Jeff was heading to Maine to spend some time with his father, and I suspected he'd tipped her off that I'd be home and lonely, but they both claim there was no conspiracy.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezCHFmtZ-KwLW_z1p5EZNsPw3lHai6NpM4sUbN8pim9_hqB6YRUcLNhHmOS4vsXivBQZyhMjOR6PTl3yl3DbswqPo7dyQ9cBesAoRgthFDYdtZd65TsTmbdL8kxj6osU7gzzg24gF3ps/s1600/IMG_1921.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiezCHFmtZ-KwLW_z1p5EZNsPw3lHai6NpM4sUbN8pim9_hqB6YRUcLNhHmOS4vsXivBQZyhMjOR6PTl3yl3DbswqPo7dyQ9cBesAoRgthFDYdtZd65TsTmbdL8kxj6osU7gzzg24gF3ps/s320/IMG_1921.jpg" width="240" /></a>I wouldn't have cared if they had conspired. I picked her up Friday afternoon as soon as I possibly could. We called Maine on the way home and Jeff, Jen, Peter, David and James passed the phone around while waiting for their food at the Muddy Rudder.<br />
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(Side note: Jeff's dad, Gary, has had a bit of a setback and has been in the hospital and rehab over the last several days. He may have a new or re-inflamed old back injury, and we're hoping he's on the mend after meds were evaluated and treatment given. It didn't make sense for both of us to visit, so Jeff made the trip solo and is glad he did, though he came home sick and has been sleeping in the basement ever since. It's not COVID-19 but apparently he's full of some colorful gunk. I call to him from the stairs on occasion but so far he's been tending mostly to his own self, at his own insistence. Not that I want any of whatever he's got.)<br />
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Back to Ali and me on Friday: She regaled me with campus life stories and caught me up on what was happening with her various friends. I gave her the low-down from Maine and Indy. We made a Costco run before we got home. We had just enough room in the back of the Subaru for all our goodies and her laundry.<br />
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Once home, we took up our station on the couch with a bag of Taco Bell and more mini tacos to come and found a stash of <a href="https://www.usanetwork.com/chrisleyknowsbest">Chrisley Knows Best</a> on the DVR listing. We followed that up with G.H. Cretors <a href="https://www.ghcretors.com/">popcorn</a> -- which I'd bought only with her agreement to take whatever we didn't finish back to Purdue with her. I swear that stuff is addictive. the only way not to eat the whole bag is to give it away.<br />
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We stayed on the couch until midnight or so watching TV, munching on bad food and comparing whatever we found on our mobile devices when we weren't shouting back at the Chrisleys for their various - and many - crazy antics. We stumbled off to our respective beds until about 3 a.m. when a nightmare woke her up and she ended up with me.<br />
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I did not pray or ask in anyway for her to recreate the times when she was little and Jeff was away, but I didn't protest. I woke up way earlier than her and had most of my work done and bacon ready when she emerged.<br />
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I had looked askance at her hair when I first laid eyes on her, but I didn't want to be <i>that</i> Mom, so I didn't address the fact that her hair was looking a little, well, off. "Did you have that girl cut your hair in the bathroom again?" I may have asked.<br />
<br />
"No," she said. "I did it myself."<br />
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"Ah," I said.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHlTA6xpeLKqeV8hBoqIscxIHDs8Km8NE1Rm2GRYjCYNq8P1vM0wvXsok28yhLuMlZBLyHPoDOJWp-YO_5M1dj2ZeHsL2U7LEe-C-RZJenUDhz5SQImSCd5y1pvOhSDJSMSEV6J65bYY/s1600/IMG_1935.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1194" data-original-width="1600" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIHlTA6xpeLKqeV8hBoqIscxIHDs8Km8NE1Rm2GRYjCYNq8P1vM0wvXsok28yhLuMlZBLyHPoDOJWp-YO_5M1dj2ZeHsL2U7LEe-C-RZJenUDhz5SQImSCd5y1pvOhSDJSMSEV6J65bYY/s200/IMG_1935.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The American Hair Stylist Academy does <br />NOT endorse these as a tool.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
She protested a little bit about my honesty. I said it wasn't that bad and beside that it was her hair and it would grow back.<br />
<br />
Saturday morning, she comes out of her bathroom and I was a bit more honest. She'd used a pair of scissors that I'm sure we bought for her in her Kindergarten days. I may have raised my eyebrows.<br />
<br />
"What?! You said it needed work," she said.<br />
<br />
I pointed out the near-bald spot she'd created. That's when she showed me the scissors she'd used.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45kjCQ26gx2R-2eeGTqKCerfwaKoQh16bodcJSx3MTVjwLoy3YjmnBAQ68PYculJAARRscWdhrocHqiClnFrJn4itMgWGkQqL2q4gsPc4AyKnJIjYbsFXLH670uj7bXmob9wRYWit4-Q/s1600/IMG_1925.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1108" data-original-width="1600" height="221" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh45kjCQ26gx2R-2eeGTqKCerfwaKoQh16bodcJSx3MTVjwLoy3YjmnBAQ68PYculJAARRscWdhrocHqiClnFrJn4itMgWGkQqL2q4gsPc4AyKnJIjYbsFXLH670uj7bXmob9wRYWit4-Q/s320/IMG_1925.jpg" width="320" /></a>"It'll grow back," I assured her as she went searching for a hat. We debated going to a walk-in hair salon but we decided to let it grow a little bit first because the only way to really address it is to buzz most of it.<br />
<br />
"Look!" she said. "All I have to do it pull this long part over it. You can't even see it."<br />
<br />
She may be the first 18-year-old sporting a comb-over. But, characteristically, she's not overly worried about it. She did wear a hat every time we went out, though.<br />
<br />
We spent part of Saturday at a super fun event organized by my friend Betty Cockrum and attended by Karin Ogden, Carey Hamilton, Catherine O'Conner and a bunch of other fun ladies.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ioeBhigxH4o4caVifoZPutRadlfkXrzI1r2XD3sklabO5KFje-HwCQrJMbL7lo_9TBVm_nn3qc9Hjzji-eJrDG__q-_fvpRvN_tmPIg5thmQ01LtrCilUgrXx2PG7sw5aDPe8Uy7U-4/s1600/IMG_1922.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1425" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4ioeBhigxH4o4caVifoZPutRadlfkXrzI1r2XD3sklabO5KFje-HwCQrJMbL7lo_9TBVm_nn3qc9Hjzji-eJrDG__q-_fvpRvN_tmPIg5thmQ01LtrCilUgrXx2PG7sw5aDPe8Uy7U-4/s320/IMG_1922.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
Betty had collected a bunch of jewelry that was either broken, out of favor or just extra and worked with the <a href="https://www.indplsartcenter.org/?gclid=CjwKCAiAnfjyBRBxEiwA-EECLNnSfLZUj7If3TgP2dOAXKEfScpkX1rUCHEFYa3yl_s3W1fBruP1RBoCZXwQAvD_BwE">Indianapolis Art Center </a>to create an event where you brought some jewelry and left with some other jewelry. You could break stuff apart, repair things or create new. There were also bagels and mimosas. It was a lot of fun.<br />
<br />
I'm hoping to do another event or something similar and highly recommend the place for fun group gatherings. Karin, Carey and I think it would be a fun Book Club venue.<br />
<br />
Ali and her friend Nikki went to an anime movie while I went back home to laundry and work. We had to make a Kroger/Meijer run to get ingredients for poutine, and Ali made dinner: french fries drenched in gravy and cheese curds. I did make her eat a pepper while I had a salad.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_clR6JA4sPt3Wr33BibpY_Ls6-nDJR08ws6D_llKgqdVNmLmzqXJuAnvk2dG8U0ONAq2iMdqUhDPZiF4qEGzF9CAuuZBL-RQh5JPQOdQeSdojzfnjPKMaRC1tupjYqVtXjAtsHHeueA/s1600/IMG_1927.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx_clR6JA4sPt3Wr33BibpY_Ls6-nDJR08ws6D_llKgqdVNmLmzqXJuAnvk2dG8U0ONAq2iMdqUhDPZiF4qEGzF9CAuuZBL-RQh5JPQOdQeSdojzfnjPKMaRC1tupjYqVtXjAtsHHeueA/s320/IMG_1927.jpg" width="240" /></a>But mostly it was cheese and gravy. We took a picture and sent it to Jeff, who was at the mercy of airport food. Because we love him.<br />
<br />
We got him around 9:30 p.m., and he was just at the beginning of the illness that has him making noises I can hear with a floor between us.<br />
<br />
We returned her by 2 p.m. so she could get ready for her week and get re-settled.<br />
<br />
It was a perfect visit. Except for the Captain's sickness, of course.<br />
<br />
We'll get her back in a couple of weeks. Our Spring Break location is still TBD. I don't really care where we end up. I may have to eat zero-point soup for a week, but it'll be worth it.<br />
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Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-12404989779786915032020-02-22T08:32:00.004-08:002020-02-22T08:32:59.925-08:00Nashville Day 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkRymQ3ficsZihlj0SMDEIj0VZSdK8TXSXbkwIAlP2zaSshj39urcgOiENp53jNJYVN8k1DIJr_yN6tY_V0W8HITqcGjeSPgnKmYq-Yx5XM04SoHwgYcLfaK3ty2HEquqyNMSZjtGkkk/s1600/IMG_1909.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1339" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibkRymQ3ficsZihlj0SMDEIj0VZSdK8TXSXbkwIAlP2zaSshj39urcgOiENp53jNJYVN8k1DIJr_yN6tY_V0W8HITqcGjeSPgnKmYq-Yx5XM04SoHwgYcLfaK3ty2HEquqyNMSZjtGkkk/s320/IMG_1909.JPG" width="267" /></a>Much, I'm sure, to the Captain's chagrin, I've been listening to classic country music since we got home from Nashville. It's his fault for finding a classic station on Sirius radio that carries a show called <a href="https://www.siriusxm.com/williesroadhouse">Willie's Roadhouse</a> and playing it as we drove home Sunday.<br />
<br />
I'd never heard some of the songs, but many of them brought me back to hanging out with my sister Donna when she she was first married to Jim. Jim had a collection of 8-track tapes and we must have listened to them a lot. Charlie Pride, Willie, of course, Loretta Lynn, vintage Dolly, Buck Owens, Johnny Cash, Tammy Wynette...it was like going back in time.<br />
<br />
Jeff's dad had a few of the albums that let Jeff know some of the songs, but he mostly indulged me with something I didn't even know I wanted.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOhZa4cNgBYOQEHcxQjlDfCVvwKRxcTSBbrXHBVKFFAWET3bV2UY7N0Vb2D6t6auYWDI1lhGYU6ea8qaKVHfbId8leKBRSm4dELnwKF70vufZGSEOU7AytS9RQSEpfol38ElUr4zWiNM/s1600/kornfield.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="480" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQOhZa4cNgBYOQEHcxQjlDfCVvwKRxcTSBbrXHBVKFFAWET3bV2UY7N0Vb2D6t6auYWDI1lhGYU6ea8qaKVHfbId8leKBRSm4dELnwKF70vufZGSEOU7AytS9RQSEpfol38ElUr4zWiNM/s320/kornfield.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
<br />
Also, I was fresh from the Country Music Hall of Fame. Eric and Tracy and I spent a couple of hours there while Jeff went to a craft beer release. They're not big country music fans, but were intrigued. Not going would be kind of like skipping the Eiffel Tower in Paris or Buckingham Palace in London, right?<br />
<br />
Nashville is quite the hopping place day or night. The Hall of Fame museum is massive. Elvis' gold-plated Cadillac was there, as were more guitars than I could count but Eric probably did. The number of stage dresses and outfits were amazing, but not more amazing than their tiny sizes.<br />
<br />
The museum also displays the cornfield from the set of <a href="https://www.wideopencountry.com/10-things-you-didnt-know-about-hee-haw/">Hee Haw</a> complete with some of the outfits of the cast who stood there and told truly awful jokes. Hee Haw was must-see-TV for my family long before that tagline was dreamed up.<br />
<br />
We left the museum and wandered around downtown Nashville a while before we decided we needed to refresh ourselves at the <a href="https://www.bourbonstreetbluesandboogiebar.com/">Bourbon Street Blues and Boogie Bar.</a> At 2 in the afternoon, it was full and there was live music rocking the place out. It was tremendous.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhFJTUnAzLzBGMetTb6Wg633XOF0flNrzRxiwNPYVcpwkOPPcBksCZn9Mp2NsFJWl20H11poj3QRRAXnQeou08XUDnOk7S6hMTgbHYkAAu3YmDoxVyL7BsEiF7BZaFxgFxrtq4NdxESI/s1600/IMG_1898.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQhFJTUnAzLzBGMetTb6Wg633XOF0flNrzRxiwNPYVcpwkOPPcBksCZn9Mp2NsFJWl20H11poj3QRRAXnQeou08XUDnOk7S6hMTgbHYkAAu3YmDoxVyL7BsEiF7BZaFxgFxrtq4NdxESI/s320/IMG_1898.JPG" width="240" /></a>We wandered some more and had to run to meet our shuttle. Well, in truth, Tracy ran. Eric and I were slower and took advantage of her waving down the driver. Jeff returned from his beer share having made new friends with whom I'm sure he'll be trading beer in the future.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlP93AKWB4PjGhxpm7C4IeOSciFtSKBSR1VAvdvKh9X_cZvlDB-bj4I3v0WzeLVCCjcwRg9ioUFFmCgjNm801cqKuU-OnI_g93kLQQJ0noMYfl4AqLB7lbFegPVZJ0bqaqkw1WstQzBM4/s1600/IMG_1901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlP93AKWB4PjGhxpm7C4IeOSciFtSKBSR1VAvdvKh9X_cZvlDB-bj4I3v0WzeLVCCjcwRg9ioUFFmCgjNm801cqKuU-OnI_g93kLQQJ0noMYfl4AqLB7lbFegPVZJ0bqaqkw1WstQzBM4/s320/IMG_1901.JPG" width="240" /></a>We had ticket for a beer crawl, which was to begin from Alan Jackson's bar on Broadway. We got there only to discover after a long wait that the bar crawl had been postponed for another two hours. So we created our own crawl. We didn't crawl far, as the bar we started in (and most others it seemed) was three-stories and each floor had a different band or singer. Some had full stages, some had tiny squares of space big enough for a stool, an amp and a microphone.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXw2OeKfo1my81ikXZ-FPSjN6NE6IxD4GHAdvbf3aunSA42-RWLhyUV68e7S643YviNDn_JT5CmzhYXAAvrYWfXrJvnVV-fsQc_yrfUbMVqNjHST-pIDbrMpd-kIlGS_t40QCAlMeuJKQ/s1600/IMG_1908.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXw2OeKfo1my81ikXZ-FPSjN6NE6IxD4GHAdvbf3aunSA42-RWLhyUV68e7S643YviNDn_JT5CmzhYXAAvrYWfXrJvnVV-fsQc_yrfUbMVqNjHST-pIDbrMpd-kIlGS_t40QCAlMeuJKQ/s320/IMG_1908.jpg" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4iJhO3sDzHNAFSMn52BbB1UjLVX6wuVK-NvNNjkkQIQE3PxCzl_Y8xTeLj8c0DIOTleAqnO82_viUu9hJXtZXi6nv8-KefRGzDRyQ9FZtli0-0yEV1BtnBEzHBf5cbTdKQnMLtpU8INM/s1600/IMG_1902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4iJhO3sDzHNAFSMn52BbB1UjLVX6wuVK-NvNNjkkQIQE3PxCzl_Y8xTeLj8c0DIOTleAqnO82_viUu9hJXtZXi6nv8-KefRGzDRyQ9FZtli0-0yEV1BtnBEzHBf5cbTdKQnMLtpU8INM/s200/IMG_1902.JPG" width="150" /></a>Most of the musicians covered major hits, but occasionally they'd break out an original song. We ended up having a late dinner at Puckett's, which included a young woman singing. Her name is SJ McDonald, and she looked about 16. I hope she makes it big. We can say we heard her first.<br />
<br />
We stopped off at <a href="http://www.450northbrewing.com/">450 North Brewing</a> just south of Columbus. We're definitely going to go back. At 3 p.m. or so it was nearly full. We had only a snack of shredded beef nachos, but my eyes kept wandering to nearby tables full of pizza and cheese curds and such. It's not for vegetarians or people who can stick to a diet, but you've never had nachos like these.<br />
<br />
It was a great trip, but followed as normally happens, with a lot of work. The highlight of the week might have been going with my friend Tina Noel at near the crack of dawn to listen to our friend Lisa Vielee speak to a packed house about being vulnerable in the workplace.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvm_T70oj_Dal_NxR9GVG5vSsMGxPAqapqwt9kjHpkU6BkKvjmeLswAwqypZ6pxxAm47DZ9xSStE1qNHmVkbX3aCbhTwu0wzVnxsyLlpZSlt-PuhK2T8CKD_hRVmGAhdiMnCIOo2eVRg/s1600/IMG_1915.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1445" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvm_T70oj_Dal_NxR9GVG5vSsMGxPAqapqwt9kjHpkU6BkKvjmeLswAwqypZ6pxxAm47DZ9xSStE1qNHmVkbX3aCbhTwu0wzVnxsyLlpZSlt-PuhK2T8CKD_hRVmGAhdiMnCIOo2eVRg/s320/IMG_1915.jpg" width="289" /></a>If you're like me, you think highly of your friends. I mean, it takes a while to make a friend, so you want to have good ones, so of course you should think highly of them. But when you see them in a new setting -- as in addressing a packed house of people who arranged their day to hear what they have to say, it's an interesting new light.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBFbfQuQswwXgwhuGRrt7sdEmBH9w-kJCpg3FmvhpCSoFxcgDrLu5fuejsq4vfVZ5ZYhC2yxeNzOq7Y-I5r9K_rhhQzEQGysBYfnZvKl09xN9TluaBm2HY4HiredOvvntysghfras8-c/s1600/IMG_1919.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="810" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKBFbfQuQswwXgwhuGRrt7sdEmBH9w-kJCpg3FmvhpCSoFxcgDrLu5fuejsq4vfVZ5ZYhC2yxeNzOq7Y-I5r9K_rhhQzEQGysBYfnZvKl09xN9TluaBm2HY4HiredOvvntysghfras8-c/s320/IMG_1919.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
Lisa was awesome. If she wasn't already my friend, I'd actively seek her out to be one. She has great taste in shoes, too.<br />
<br />
Friday, Jeff came home and was greeted with a blast of classic country music. He was on the phone with Alison, and I'm certain they were both rolling their eyes and poking a little fun. The were, in fact, talking because Jeff had been talking at work about a song from some new (or old) group that either Ali or Jeff had tipped the other off to. As I've said before, my brain doesn't remember any other music than country. All I remember is that it's a group that sounds a little bit like Devo. What I remember about Devo is they wore hats that looked like terra cotta plant pots. Right? That's Devo.<br />
<br />
Anyway, we turned down the tunes to talk about Spring Break. We've made no decisions, but for that fact that we'll be together. Which is enough for me. I am, as my bio tells you, a simple country girl at heart.<br />
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If we road trip by car, though, I'm going to insist on a few miles to educate them on the classics.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3wce5r5QaUVM9-jngjHRLuVy_ZTMAtpsH9PQCaXF-w6PJfkhqJp-5LMCGSt3It0IiphStdywCxcwNIH7mv8owHNDHhtZtVxwpznpHmwkdG1U9Ilr0_JlH-d2iO8LD9CA5VakpMwteLQ/s1600/IMG_1911.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC3wce5r5QaUVM9-jngjHRLuVy_ZTMAtpsH9PQCaXF-w6PJfkhqJp-5LMCGSt3It0IiphStdywCxcwNIH7mv8owHNDHhtZtVxwpznpHmwkdG1U9Ilr0_JlH-d2iO8LD9CA5VakpMwteLQ/s320/IMG_1911.JPG" width="232" /></a></div>
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-2832702689568764072020-02-15T06:24:00.003-08:002020-02-15T07:36:32.321-08:00Nashville Notes<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Five hours in on a mostly interstate drive that was supposed
to take about four-and-a-half hours, I was a little bit frazzled. Dire
predictions of winter weather hadn’t come to fruition, I’d picked Jeff up a
full two minutes early for our weekend, anniversary getaway and we’d had a
well-timed pee and snacks break.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Traffic in Louisville got silly just about the same
time Jeff started playing around on his Sirius radio dial and blasting the
music. Lest you get the wrong impression, I, too, am a music fan. I like all
kinds of music, though my brain will only retain a few gospel hymns and country
music.<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jeff is an audiophile, and partially deaf. So audible to him
is loud to me. And he likes his music loud. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’ve lived with him 22 years and
dated for two ahead of that, so I know this. It’s part of what makes me love
him; his passion is contagious and fun to watch. It’s even educational when I’m
of a mind to learn.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, all was good as we went from hits from the 50s to the 80s
to the 90s to the 70s as he found songs that he loved or didn’t. Traffic-wise,
we were stuck in the 10s. As I rode the brake, Jeff was flopping around like a fish
out of water. If a fish could play air guitar, drums, saxophone and direct the
invisible band. And it was 6-feet-2.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it was still all good. No country music crossed the dial,
but I have a passing acquaintance with a lot of the songs and was singing
(badly) along when I could. Then, not too far from Nashville, we hit another traffic stall and I had a hot flash
hit that had me turning off the heated seat, unbuttoning my shirt and turning
down the window to the frosty air.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was panting. Jeff was still playing all kinds of music and playing air everything as three lanes of vehicles played a brake light show. And then from
nowhere, a semi-tractor trailer comes roaring down the break-down lane on my
left. It felt like it brushed back the passenger side mirror, and I don’t mind
telling you I would have peed my pants had it not been for that earlier stop
we’d made.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I mean, who does that? Turns out, a bunch of people. I’m not
sure where they thought they were going, and I was hopeful they’d run right
into the arms of Johnny Law, but I kind of got used to it. Not that I liked it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This was about the time my headache started. There's volume control on the steering wheel , and every once in a while, I’d lower the
sound. Without fail – or complaint – Jeff would lean over and turn the dial to the right, go back to strumming and telling me the origin story of where he’d first heard
this song and how it shaped his musical tastes. Sometimes he’d tell me about the
artist.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I normally like this kind of running dialogue, but between
the hot flashes, the continual noise and the Tennessee traffic, I was pretty
much done. We finally got to the point of origin for the slowdown and sure
enough, all of those asshats who’d blown by me were stalled along the breakdown
lane as a quarter-mile length of police and highway workers were out in the
pitch blackness doing God knows what.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Maybe the asshats were part of the crew and were hurrying in
response to some kind of need. I hope not. I hope they were being punished for
acting on their impatience like I had wanted to be didn’t.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We got safely to the hotel at least an hour later than we’d
expected to, but I’d calmed down by then and all was good. We get in to find
the hotel having technical issues which meant we couldn’t get room key cards.
We hadn’t had dinner and were planning to explore Nashville.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well, you could flip that thing on your door and leave it
open so you could get back in when you got back,” said our helpful bellhop,
musing out loud that doing so would leave our belongings open for whomever
might want to come sort through them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How about room service?” I suggest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The bellhop nodded. That was an option to, he conceded.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I’d begun unpacking and Jeff advised me to let that go and
start examining the room service menu, which wasn’t to be found. “It’s here,”
he said when I told him it didn’t exist. “Just look for it.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I called the front desk. “No, we don’t have room service
menus in the rooms,” the clerk said. “You’ll have to go down to the
restaurant.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I refrained from telling him that we didn’t have a room key.
Jeff went down, took a photo of the menu and gave our order. Which, I kid you
not, was delivered in plastic bags and Styrofoam by the security guard.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I may not have chosen our accommodations well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Ali called while we were assembling our take-out containers,
and we were having a lovely chat as she walked back in the snow from a late
test she’d just taken. Suddenly the phone cuts out. She doesn’t call back.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After a few minutes, I text her to tell me she’s not dead in
the snow of Lafayette, seven hours to the north.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nothing. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jeff calls her.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Voice mail.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I take a drink of the champagne we’d brought with us. Krug.
The good stuff. We’ve been married 22 years. We deserve the good stuff.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But it was a bit acidic as I pictured her fallen in the
snow, bloody and alone because she’d either been run down by a drunk student or
mauled by a horde of thugs.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I Google to find her dorm reception. “I don’t want to sound
like an overprotective parent,” I said as Jeff nearly choked on his food. “But
would it be possible to check on a student?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Long story short, it was only her phone that died in the
snow. She texted back as I was on the phone with the poor kid who was trying to
be nice to me but clearly was rolling his eyes and saying, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“seriously” to
whoever was next to him at the desk. He was laughing when I reported that she
wasn’t dead and asked him to not tell her that I’d called.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Of course, the Captain ratted me out. I got a “MOM” text.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am unapologetic. It’s unlike her to drop us and then not
respond. She’ll thank me when she’s broken her leg and is laying cold and alone
in the dark and the cops find her because I sounded the alarm.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The champagne tasted a whole lot better once she’d
resurfaced.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96H9OveCSr27FPfwZji0WkyEkSoIweWV_Hfp2mvVPblHGjPMQ36fZ5qQUdjVdK3w9-ukbyon9SK4sRXB8Q0ACLGcOQhU_COot7FBdomHc02r-Bdfr4tj8HJgAbMQ65fC6Na8vTBVK0Vk/s1600/IMG_1888.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96H9OveCSr27FPfwZji0WkyEkSoIweWV_Hfp2mvVPblHGjPMQ36fZ5qQUdjVdK3w9-ukbyon9SK4sRXB8Q0ACLGcOQhU_COot7FBdomHc02r-Bdfr4tj8HJgAbMQ65fC6Na8vTBVK0Vk/s320/IMG_1888.JPG" width="240" /></a>I worked Friday morning, and Jeff explored Nashville’s beer
scene. Then, we both explored downtown, intending to have a late breakfast at <a href="https://biscuitlove.com/">Biscuit Love</a>. We found nearby parking and
left all but our coats in the car. The line to get in was massive, so we opted
to walk to Hattie B.’s <a href="https://hattieb.com/">Hot Chicken</a>. The sun
was out.<o:p></o:p><br />
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As we crested a long but fairly high hill on the way there
and the brisk Nashville wind found my ears, I was regretting my decision to
walk light. But we persevered only to find another long line.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I rarely wait for food, and there were other options all
around us, but Jeff was stoked, and I was intrigued. Behind us were two girls
who could not stop talking about the menu and should they get this, or should
they get that. “The peach cobbler is a must,” one said. They both wanted fries
but thought they should diversify. We were in line about 35 minutes. This
discussion DID NOT STOP.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We get in but still had a bit of a wait and I spied the size
of the chicken tenders I was planning to get. Mind you, I didn’t need to look
at the menu as it had been fully described to me on repeat. Jeff had been getting
tips from buddies who’d been there before.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I ordered level “Hot,” which was a couple steps up from
plain. Jeff leveled up one to “Damn Hot” and declared me a sissy. Minutes
later, when his mouth was on fire, he considered his choice. By this time, the
chattery girls had sat down at our table. It had been vacated for a spot in the
sun by the couple who’d stood ahead of us. They were from London. The talkers
were from Connecticut.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Clearly, we were tourists, but it was fun and once the girls
found different topics of conversation, they were fun, too. We ended up eating
on the porch, that had rolled down plastic over to stand in as windows. The
heat lamps made it tolerable, but we still ate with our coats on. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jeff wasn’t the only one trash talking me. To my left at another
picnic table was group of men, one gasping. “Why you got to breathe for anyway?”
his unconcerned pal laughed at him. The Londoners had downed their pitcher of
beer. I’d gone back for more tea to save Jeff’s life. I ended up giving him one
of my tenders – they were huge. The sides were amazing, too.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Before we left, I chatted a bit with one of the cooks and asked
him how he’d gotten the greens so tender. “I cook ‘em,” he said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I laughed and a waiter joined our conversation where I
shared that I’d never been able to make them so delectable. “You’re not cookin’
‘em long enough,” the chef declared.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“How long do YOU cook ‘em?” I asked.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Three-and-a-half hours,” he said. The waiter chimed in, “But
his momma would cook ‘em overnight.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Mmm-hmmm,” the cook said.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was worth the burn. And the wait.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Oh. We got the peach cobbler. I sampled it before my taste
buds were burned away. I should have thanked the Connecticut girls. We at the rest
of it as we walked back to our car. I was wearing boots, which weren’t really
made for long treks, and I hit the 10,000 step mark before we got within site
of the parking garage.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At which point, Jeff says, “Want to go to the Johnny Cash
museum? It’s not far from here.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinTsDTdkrpoypm2qTOHljh2EjTcu3EeUHpdPJibkv5pPDg3fTVLnAaN7_y4gRenYt1W6ZM-E6UYDn55LVERVQlve_b5tFZaE8sK53FQvPmBWzmfDEa07ii_Ox71E16cBwqB9zbcpGgA28/s1600/JohnnyCash.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="329" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinTsDTdkrpoypm2qTOHljh2EjTcu3EeUHpdPJibkv5pPDg3fTVLnAaN7_y4gRenYt1W6ZM-E6UYDn55LVERVQlve_b5tFZaE8sK53FQvPmBWzmfDEa07ii_Ox71E16cBwqB9zbcpGgA28/s320/JohnnyCash.JPG" width="320" /></a>We’d been talking about what to do as we waited for Eric and
Tracy to arrive, and Jeff knows I’m a big Johnny Cash fan. I’d found a brochure
in the hotel, and he’d seen a billboard. The car was parked. My dogs were
barking but sure, how far could it be?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was far. Along the way, we ran into the Connecticut girls
who were on the way to the Country Music Hall of Fame museum. They’d debated
between it and Johnny Cash. We ducked into the Hall of Fame for a bathroom break.
It’s possible I put a little rest in the restroom, but we went back in search
of <a href="https://www.johnnycashmuseum.com/">the Man in Black</a>.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A mile later, we found it, and it exceeded the hype. I’m not
sure you have to be a JRC fan to enjoy that place. I learned stuff, and I remembered
some other stuff. I’d totally forgotten he had an acting career and had
appeared on <i>Little House on the Prairie</i> and <i>Columbo</i>. He even hosted <i>Saturday
Night Live. </i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was even in a movie where Andy Griffith was the villain,
and he took a tiny Ron Howard hostage in a movie when Cash was the villain. It
took a bit of thought to realize that was a very young Kris Kristofferson in
<i>Stagecoach</i>. Merle Haggard looked the same. And I wondered if that was the genesis
of “The Highwaymen.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyway, we were there for a long time, and I sat through one
of the movies to rest up and remember. It was super fun, and I felt indulged
because the Captain isn’t a country music fan. At all. But who doesn’t love
Johnny Cash?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBSjbZ7fh7M80aVeobetCTWCQSvO1jfXZin9bYI0rt3v7eyoX1NzeMx5aufFZYLiQ0gsrJCKqz0SvofVz9I__OOPRdsA-qqJL3vK4qSsxzNNhIsvdB4Xo4WXabjia9-uxWK6fyAe1woo/s1600/IMG_1889+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1199" data-original-width="810" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBSjbZ7fh7M80aVeobetCTWCQSvO1jfXZin9bYI0rt3v7eyoX1NzeMx5aufFZYLiQ0gsrJCKqz0SvofVz9I__OOPRdsA-qqJL3vK4qSsxzNNhIsvdB4Xo4WXabjia9-uxWK6fyAe1woo/s200/IMG_1889+2.JPG" width="135" /></a>Eric and Tracy hit town and we went back to the hotel where
we had a few drinks and pre-gamed before our late dinner at The Green Pheasant,
which promised a fusion of Japanese and Tennessee cuisine, and in 2019 was
voted <a href="https://thegreenpheasant.com/">Nashville’s best restaurant</a>. It
was amazing. Flavors I’d never seen paired before and highly delectable.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJIpb2BNTvwirQBUzPS9J9sbMet0OsLWGBTWfhlQpxj4UsJwI7qVgc0i7OuPN4f9nUSk1QuJhBs2TY4u5pEiK0eUMd5GMsFeEJpcq2nuC9NE5bdJ5ztcxYNwsljyJKve5pn7VjC9-hrfU/s1600/IMG_1891.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJIpb2BNTvwirQBUzPS9J9sbMet0OsLWGBTWfhlQpxj4UsJwI7qVgc0i7OuPN4f9nUSk1QuJhBs2TY4u5pEiK0eUMd5GMsFeEJpcq2nuC9NE5bdJ5ztcxYNwsljyJKve5pn7VjC9-hrfU/s200/IMG_1891.JPG" width="150" /></a>The waiter recommended we order at least eight plates and we
thought he was insane. But then we did, and it was great. I couldn’t even tell you
what all of it was or how it was made. But I’ll remember the meal.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hd91M9yY1GRQRHOaA_0z_yrRdiFMPj_o0HZTXvRTfmgYX3SA6DLaC7YnVO6pop7JqOFuIvPYDZxvCzwLcR_M8ZzaoPPfxiL5ZKtZ_WdwrXfXxGdov1adegSIBJ_9ebe1O36G_W6itZc/s1600/IMG_1892.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-hd91M9yY1GRQRHOaA_0z_yrRdiFMPj_o0HZTXvRTfmgYX3SA6DLaC7YnVO6pop7JqOFuIvPYDZxvCzwLcR_M8ZzaoPPfxiL5ZKtZ_WdwrXfXxGdov1adegSIBJ_9ebe1O36G_W6itZc/s200/IMG_1892.JPG" width="200" /></a>We stumbled back to the hotel and I went to bed while the
rest of the team sought out a Blues band fronted by one of the hotel staff –
Jeff had figured it out earlier. Sadly, the band had disbanded by the time they
got there. It was a good day.<br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We’ll see what Saturday brings. Pretty sure it's going to be awesome. But I'll see it in more comfortable shoes this time...</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-5880105847799630032020-02-12T17:45:00.004-08:002020-02-12T18:08:58.663-08:00Boiler up the blasphemy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkry5HH0YQAltajyiFdcJXeBticY14UUrfVaUpW_WgZdpWEqyXtkvOBMnu3_BkUSjVFXY2JeePUE7mvZY7hZe8S1RoAFkZP_hcqTCk-_n_ELL1DaTiifQmm92au52vc9Z6_OLvwVYalgA/s1600/IMG_1875.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="974" data-original-width="1600" height="194" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkry5HH0YQAltajyiFdcJXeBticY14UUrfVaUpW_WgZdpWEqyXtkvOBMnu3_BkUSjVFXY2JeePUE7mvZY7hZe8S1RoAFkZP_hcqTCk-_n_ELL1DaTiifQmm92au52vc9Z6_OLvwVYalgA/s320/IMG_1875.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
We drove up to Lafayette last weekend to take Alison out to dinner. We thought she'd want go to Red Lobster and get her crab on but she was thinking sushi instead.<br />
<br />
I should have gotten the name of the place we went to. It was really good and we had a little booth that was set apart from the tables and separated by glass beads.<br />
<br />
It was perfect -- a lot of room and quiet enough that we could listen to Ali expound on her antics in the month or so since we'd seen her. The food quality was second only to the company.<br />
<br />
Ali was telling us about a group chemistry project she'd been involved with. It was a success, and a lot of fun for her because "they let me decide everything." Classes are going well, as is her social life. She's hitting the Co-Rec more regularly lately as she tries to out-swim the Freshman 15.<br />
<br />
"It's getting kind of painful," she confessed, describing the return of her abdominal pooch and its effect on how her pants fit.<br />
<br />
We'd surprised her with a little Valentine's gift bag that included some chocolate, some Ramen and a surprise from Aunt Margaret, who is super crafty. She'd been to a pottery place that has added an option to paint and stencil wood. She decided it would look good in our wine room, but Ali decided it would look better in her dorm room.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaDMtm_d1rWqRIPA8A92BCarHCWbJO_c6_LkJ8HgprX9FL11bNiET0TCQoWdiW4bpArFJDV3e7VsfA-LXS91tbq_2YhUPpUljSLM9JFL-Uj9Wv7NbbWdM3hbUwDj5gEtrXQdqHTvwTWM/s1600/IMG_1872.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKaDMtm_d1rWqRIPA8A92BCarHCWbJO_c6_LkJ8HgprX9FL11bNiET0TCQoWdiW4bpArFJDV3e7VsfA-LXS91tbq_2YhUPpUljSLM9JFL-Uj9Wv7NbbWdM3hbUwDj5gEtrXQdqHTvwTWM/s320/IMG_1872.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Jeff and I have been working a lot but we're about to go off for the weekend to celebrate 21 years of wedded bliss. We're sharing the weekend with Eric and Tracy, who have 30+ years together.<br />
<br />
It's kind of fun that we're going to Nashville, TN, when only I am a country music fan. Eric is flying from there to Costa Rica to surf, so it makes sense that we go there. I'm going to have a great time. I don't know about the rest of them.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2ZaVQyvXTdZyajzTtM3zZfeGv-3ppmfbku2t6XwgL-OYwkfQ8x9vH8MVBQbR8tE1GNcJ65vQerJ0gGRCHL800d6s9Ri3rCFdaXlva8L3zshY0kHPmgAWraac6JGIQ2qZGC-_8-US2wU/s1600/IMG-1879.PNG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="740" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii2ZaVQyvXTdZyajzTtM3zZfeGv-3ppmfbku2t6XwgL-OYwkfQ8x9vH8MVBQbR8tE1GNcJ65vQerJ0gGRCHL800d6s9Ri3rCFdaXlva8L3zshY0kHPmgAWraac6JGIQ2qZGC-_8-US2wU/s640/IMG-1879.PNG" width="292" /></a>The Captain has already found a few craft beer options, so unless Stormageddon strikes, it should be a fun weekend. In the meantime, we're trying to finish up the perishables in the fridge and fruit bowl. In doing so, I committed a cardinal sin at dinner tonight.<br />
<br />
<br />
Ali and I are purists when it comes to sausage, pepper and onions. It's a stir fry, essentially, with turkey smokes sausage, red, orange and sometimes green peppers and onions. A little soy sauce and that's it. Paired with mashed potatoes, it's simple enough that even I can't screw it up. Jeff occasionally would suggest we should add different kinds of vegetables, but Ali usually talked him out of it.<br />
<br />
She's not here to protect the sanctity of the sausage and peppers, though, and I had veggies to get rid of. So tonight, I threw in the small bit of broccoli and jalapeno that were in the vegetable crisper, along with some corn. It was good, but I know Alison would have flipped her lid like the time I sneaked turkey burger into Grammie's chili. I'm lucky I didn't have to sleep in the garage that night.<br />
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I sent her a picture. Her response:<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-37580702673351920842020-01-19T06:19:00.001-08:002020-01-19T06:22:40.510-08:00Of nests, empty and full and friends to the rescueI've been super lucky in the friend department. Some come via family, some through school, others through work and friends of friends.<br />
<br />
Recently, one of them suggested an outing to hear an Egyptologist lay down some facts about women who rules in the ancient world. Interesting, sure. But I was feeling intellectually lazy and initially passed on the opportunity.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UiuJTyabjW0_l6p_tKDyHJL6Gz5VP_5i09bC03Q-1n0NKld1m8M3EsdIerB15c9unFKM-1CfGi_8WvXzKhIHcd6pWUtku8Qy-zhQ9a-Y5VoUG-UIR46aOwu6ZEEfOxK0MavHi6QvvhY/s1600/Egypt.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="607" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UiuJTyabjW0_l6p_tKDyHJL6Gz5VP_5i09bC03Q-1n0NKld1m8M3EsdIerB15c9unFKM-1CfGi_8WvXzKhIHcd6pWUtku8Qy-zhQ9a-Y5VoUG-UIR46aOwu6ZEEfOxK0MavHi6QvvhY/s320/Egypt.JPG" width="320" /></a>But here's the thing (s). I have never had a bad time hanging out with Cathy Garver. Just running into her at an event you didn't know she'd be at will make it a better party. And I had just resolved to make this year the one where I stop declining events because I don't want to put on real clothes or brush my hair. Plus a bunch of other also superfun ladies had already said "ah!" (That's the phonetic Egyptian Arabaic for "yes.")<br />
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So, a desire to keep to my hope to be more outwardly active and a liberal sprinkling of FOMO had me adding my name to the Egyptian lecture list at the last minute. It did not disappoint. In fact, it was funny and eye-opening and everything I've come to associate with CG.<br />
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Earlier, I'd agreed to celebrate Tina Noel's birthday with drinks at a winery that offered (weakly) heated igloos from which you can sip and watch a beautiful Heartland sunset.<br />
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We also went to a movie of which prior to this outing I zero knowledge. Now, much like being an expert on ancient Egyptian leaders and the appeal of our hunting/gathering days, I'm also an expert on INXS and Michael Hutchence. Ha. Not really, but I am better informed about both and realized I actually know some INXS songs. Actually, I'm lucky they didn't toss me out of the igloo when I asked what the movie was about and then followed it up with, "Who's Michael Hutchence?"<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWItYfkCsvlKRnnuUVBZ0-WysrA-u9WjI1z2BBijitlFlDgIK5b4nEx3583jqZiCxD7QUlQZAVd1F-LhU58z79HajHbIksXbukVbmA4FRAa9vt1dIrV66AqvdFr3LN_9ovV3ZzHdP5pRU/s1600/igloo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="991" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWItYfkCsvlKRnnuUVBZ0-WysrA-u9WjI1z2BBijitlFlDgIK5b4nEx3583jqZiCxD7QUlQZAVd1F-LhU58z79HajHbIksXbukVbmA4FRAa9vt1dIrV66AqvdFr3LN_9ovV3ZzHdP5pRU/s320/igloo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
As you know, I'm a country music fan with no ability to discern the talents behind rock music. I can, however, tell you (generally) who is singing what country music song. I'm working on this and just last week recognized Bob Dylan AND The Rolling Stones. Low bar, maybe, but I'm working on it!<br />
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In addition to being less ignorant of other music genres, I plan this year is to take a trip of some kind every month. I'm counting West Lafayette for January because the month is half over, the prednisone is wearing off and I'm a little bit tired. And it's wicked cold right now.<br />
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The Captain and I are going to Nashville, TN, next month celebrating our wedding anniversary along with Tracy and Eric. Still planning that out, but it's a definite. March/April will be a Spring Break trip somewhere: maybe Maine.<br />
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The idea of the trips and desire to do more stuff with friends is definitely a response to Alison's return to college. The classic empty nest. But when you have friends and you like your family, it's not a bad thing to have a roomier nest. You go out, you have fun; you remember that you used to a fun person who went outside the house for more than work and groceries.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn29KgPfnwK1rnwi-P4vf2ICuP2QZXAE12g8D6wJfM4kwl-3QntlVE1HMjBxiwT2disDqutTTxBX4eSitqXf4Qu4qucBPtZnrY7gvAPsmtuy4KWMAGrlqwO8LJpm12jxBZVHaW9p45rMI/s1600/IMG_1827.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgn29KgPfnwK1rnwi-P4vf2ICuP2QZXAE12g8D6wJfM4kwl-3QntlVE1HMjBxiwT2disDqutTTxBX4eSitqXf4Qu4qucBPtZnrY7gvAPsmtuy4KWMAGrlqwO8LJpm12jxBZVHaW9p45rMI/s320/IMG_1827.jpg" width="240" /></a>It's not a bad year so far. Here's ➤➤➤➤➤➤➤➤➤➤➤➤<br />
the best picture of Ali's last day with us. She's saying goodbye to her father, who had work, which left me to return her solo. Were there tears? Maybe. But only in the room, down the stairs and in the car for a bit.<br />
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I'd parked as close to Ali's dorm door because we had a significant amount of stuff to drag up to the third floor. I'd switched cars with Jeff to get it all up there. Campus was virtually deserted, so it didn't seem like parking illegally would affect anyone. So there was no need for that bus driver to try to shame me when he decided I was in his way.<br />
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I say try, because he didn't shame me one bit. There was:<br />
<br />
A. plenty of yellow for everyone. (Someone should tell Mitch Daniels that parents need to be closer to the dorm doors -- and should get a free pass when there's NO ONE but you and your kid on campus.)<br />
B. No one got off the damn bus at that spot; and<br />
C. Could he not tell I was having a moment?!?<br />
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Ali has been back at school for a couple weeks. I've got a list of stuff for her next care package. She's not planning to come home until Spring Break but has reminded us that she's free for dinner<br />
between now and then.<br />
<br />
I've cleaned pretty much every corner of the house, buffed and polished, donated stuff, reorganized things in the basement, gotten the toxics ready for proper disposal and recycled the recyclables.<br />
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FYI, saving paint for 20+ years is a fool's errand. I pried the top off a can thinking I'd touch up bits of the dining room and inhaled a swirl of air that may have had chunky brown bits in it. When we'd sealed the can, the paint was liquid and approaching forest green. It's congealed into a sludge in shades of brown and black and gray. I don't know what the shelf life on paint is, but it's not 20 years.<br />
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So yeah, it's time to go out and have fun. We joined the <a href="https://www.amctheatres.com/amcstubs/alist">AMC movie club</a> as a way to encourage date night. It's a crazy deal: you can see up to three movies A WEEK for something like $20 a person per month. We like movies. We may need to bike there or do some power walking in the mall to justify the sitting and potential snacks. But it should be fun for a while.<br />
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Add in Bunco and Book Club and I'm going to be out more than I'm in.<br />
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I'm seeing <i>Bombshell</i> with some friends tomorrow. This isn't a situation where I'm going in blind. I know all about those FOX ladies and have enough journalism background and #MeToo situations to be eager to see it. Doesn't matter, though. I'm going out with friends. It'll be fun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWyaG0LTdr43c7ye3jjJM667Ugz3KpEK6Tu1aQW6DAQIs-sDQNagLPSDxsM69PoWk5mlsy4DXPdyMWfxv9cHxJqBuH6JnBDya46Z0PtlGVL8o0hd0ESpIWdGvUQCOCi9gOw92swUo9bQ/s1600/IMG_1779+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1023" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmWyaG0LTdr43c7ye3jjJM667Ugz3KpEK6Tu1aQW6DAQIs-sDQNagLPSDxsM69PoWk5mlsy4DXPdyMWfxv9cHxJqBuH6JnBDya46Z0PtlGVL8o0hd0ESpIWdGvUQCOCi9gOw92swUo9bQ/s200/IMG_1779+1.jpg" width="127" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTZAJhGdfqYwuIuR3LTyyK7PEz4eKrYJvjf-LKjfFD5rInXLQ9mmTUcpid5sIqeNVJBTsRqg00S7zpnc53aLAJAn7qq5CNKonw79z6_ZJh-cdrOF4PRzY-l7G9sDchGaJqHrs80bSxf4/s1600/IMG_0175+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1533" data-original-width="1600" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOTZAJhGdfqYwuIuR3LTyyK7PEz4eKrYJvjf-LKjfFD5rInXLQ9mmTUcpid5sIqeNVJBTsRqg00S7zpnc53aLAJAn7qq5CNKonw79z6_ZJh-cdrOF4PRzY-l7G9sDchGaJqHrs80bSxf4/s200/IMG_0175+1.jpg" width="200" /></a>I'm not going to go totally crazy. Thanks to my brother-in-law, James, I'm poised for me time in the tub with a book and a bit of bubbly. And thanks to my sister, Donna, I'm primed for reading outside the tub as well.<br />
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So watch your inbox for an invite from me. I'll be squeaky clean and ready for movies, music, walks around the neighborhood, you name it. It's going to be a fun year. Be ready to say "yes."<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-70014712685996230632020-01-05T12:23:00.003-08:002020-01-05T12:23:52.094-08:00The last day... but not the LAST dayToday is the last day Jeff and I have no work obligations and still have Ali home with us. Full work days return tomorrow, and I'll take her back to Purdue this weekend. I'm trying not call too much attention to it, just enjoy the time.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-nkKt1oXFHA77vOShOPtht_2a4W5pCutktydzUHBWbgvAe4DtkxqGpECNqDIs5EdUpQGVOpnGrS4SP3ngYfxvoblpk5m6qA43YCSV1S4Gq9CNmFPDAuI-wGxyit6mSkQCSgm22i2itJg/s1600/IMG_1805.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-nkKt1oXFHA77vOShOPtht_2a4W5pCutktydzUHBWbgvAe4DtkxqGpECNqDIs5EdUpQGVOpnGrS4SP3ngYfxvoblpk5m6qA43YCSV1S4Gq9CNmFPDAuI-wGxyit6mSkQCSgm22i2itJg/s320/IMG_1805.jpg" width="240" /></a><br />
It's been pretty awesome.<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li>Christmas in Maine, check.</li>
<li>De-Christmasing upon our return, check.</li>
<li>New Year's Eve party, check.</li>
<li>Gatherings with friends, check.</li>
<li>Impromptu brunch at The Gallery, check. </li>
</ul>
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Since we've been home, we've been hanging out, reading, purging and cleaning (in my case) painting, playing online games, streaming old shows (in Ali's case) shopping and cooking (in Jeff's case.) It's been low-key but super fun.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmTUbeSVpvLAixJv_FaAL0Uqfq-RSSiazyK8GMhKo7HqiREdgQ2YUaGWJ0yfRSoi44BpuxSWSphM2aOa0pKAxVdWa68qmPz3jZYa2dpfUROtPm1K30Dz9RJHdYZfWmt4OpHePfPfsrwo/s1600/IMG_1814.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1197" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibmTUbeSVpvLAixJv_FaAL0Uqfq-RSSiazyK8GMhKo7HqiREdgQ2YUaGWJ0yfRSoi44BpuxSWSphM2aOa0pKAxVdWa68qmPz3jZYa2dpfUROtPm1K30Dz9RJHdYZfWmt4OpHePfPfsrwo/s200/IMG_1814.jpg" width="149" /></a>While getting ready for NYE, I remembered that we came home from Maine in July with a collection of Avon lead crystal glassware with an etched hummingbird motif. I ended up with it because my mom had left me with a collection of the stuff, and sets+ of another Avon glassware collection went home with Jen and James.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnAZsACP1KMPy3bquLgJuWdCgLSkKw2Cfu5H_YD9xgIOkoA58GQq7nfdaYn4n5mF7U7TXypY_nDfD3d3rVMhLc0C-H4WUB_c15srCLKzuKzW7l5i8ASwGIeBDYHZ_H97ifR1FDaFoFXs/s1600/IMG_1813.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihnAZsACP1KMPy3bquLgJuWdCgLSkKw2Cfu5H_YD9xgIOkoA58GQq7nfdaYn4n5mF7U7TXypY_nDfD3d3rVMhLc0C-H4WUB_c15srCLKzuKzW7l5i8ASwGIeBDYHZ_H97ifR1FDaFoFXs/s320/IMG_1813.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
What's funny about the glasses is my parents didn't drink alcohol and Jeff's folks weren't big drinkers. I don't think the glasses were ever used, and most were in their original boxes, the little stickers proclaiming their bona fides were still on them. The Maine ones were handy in the basement, but my mom's have languished in the attic since we moved here circa 1998. There're plates, bowls, a bud vase, a pitcher and a platter as well. Salt and pepper shakers too.<br />
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Jeff had gotten into the attic checking to check on a troublesome roof leak, so I asked him to bring down my mom's hummingbird glass just to see what we have. With it, he found more of another set of glassware from Marian that I'd seen used on an old Mad Men re-run. It took me a few hours to inventory everything, repackage and store it downstairs where it'll be easier to find/use.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikbyzskxLbxUXqgSvrnq_flg1Grcaz84YRDXSSiypFi-9v7TsodhnyoHBTE4PRacH86RqnjvyFysNaaKdsU89U6Ghfklq-ZyjrHPMOIGV76GGp8nPLKbXwQb5o9Kyeo4Dt6z-bxALCpUQ/s1600/IMG_1809.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"> </a>He also found a box of dishes labeled (he claims in my hand writing): "In case of divorce." His outrage blew down from afar like sparks on the wind, but Ali and I thought it was hilarious. <br />
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I have no memory of that box, and he didn't open it, so I don't know what's really in there. I suspect it's his old dishes, or maybe Mrs. Reed 1.0, because I know where <i>my</i> old dishes are. They're set aside downstairs for Ali's first apartment.<br />
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Today, Ali and I decided we'd cook dinner -- primary item French onion soup -- and while we were getting things together, Jeff remembered that while he was on his tour of the attic, he'd seen a set of bowls and a Dutch oven he'd bought when he lived in Europe. We sent him back up; they're beautiful and perfect for our soup. But their arrival will mean a trip to Goodwill and a goodbye to other bowls we've used for years and have the chips to prove it.<br />
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My goal is to donate or scrap at least one item for every new thing that comes into our house this year. Discovering "new" stuff already here is a bit of a wrinkle, but I'll cope. The purge is definitely on.<br />
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On a prednisone high, I cleaned Jeff's work area down in the basement and lightened a bit of that load. The workbench had been littered with all kinds of crap for months. Projects that will never be finished, containers of things opened but not returned to their spot, pens, packing material.<br />
<br />
That corner is just about the last vestige of stuff left by the former owners mingled with some of our own junk. If you ever need a screw, a nail, a washer, a tool, old doorknobs, wall anchoring supplies, sandpaper, etc... we probably have what you need no matter the size or color. Some of it dates back to the 1950s. Nails and screws, man, they don't perish. Seriously. Amil Gelb was a keeper.<br />
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Clearing some of it away is a tiny step toward convincing Jeff to make that corner a wine/beer/liquor cellar. All of that will have to find its way to the garage or shed. Even on prednisone, I'm not up to <i>that</i> task<br />
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Yesterday, we took a trip to a Vintage store near our house where the first Saturday of the month, everything is half off. Even in a purge, bargains must be reviewed. The most flagrant purchase was Ali's. "I'm so tired of being short on campus," she claimed as she clutched a pair of 4-inch boots to her chest. Doubtful she would realistically wear them, I tried to dissuade her but gave in.<br />
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She put them on in the car as we finished our trip with the library, Target and Lowe's. She and I went to Target and then walked over to Lowe's to meet Jeff. On our walk, she said, "When we went into Target a group of ladies looked at me and said, "That girl is going to break her ankles." I just turned up my headphones.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWUmh0AbE2u0Dk46TUNS-G2wQFF89fT88hdr04RB1lOZK_xZBvvjvZwKyiKHn65HaN_neUGuEVsrnjuYqFkxyj5QrHKQ_XJYUwbGq2NDybxAH52zs3fcsuQTpKqzuXAc2sM1s8dWt2W0/s1600/IMG_1808+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1105" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUWUmh0AbE2u0Dk46TUNS-G2wQFF89fT88hdr04RB1lOZK_xZBvvjvZwKyiKHn65HaN_neUGuEVsrnjuYqFkxyj5QrHKQ_XJYUwbGq2NDybxAH52zs3fcsuQTpKqzuXAc2sM1s8dWt2W0/s400/IMG_1808+1.jpg" width="276" /></a><br />
I laughed, remembered my days of always wearing heels, and said, "They're just jealous. Heck,<i> I'm</i> jealous."<br />
<br />She laughed and said, "Right?! I saw my legs in these things. I'm never taking them off."<br />
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Right now, the house is full of cooking smells and music. I sou-cheffed for a while, then Jeff took over, but now it's just Ali puttering around in the kitchen, me on the couch and Jeff downstairs with a game on.<br />
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It's our last day together unencumbered with other responsibilities. It's a good day.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-86788484368521601502019-12-30T11:14:00.001-08:002019-12-30T11:14:43.693-08:00Itchy, scratchy but working through itSomewhere in the usually fabulous state of Maine, I encountered something that irritated 97 percent of my skin. Not in a mildly annoyed way. In a full-on I-am-going-to-make-you-beg-<wbr></wbr>for-death kind of way.<br />
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Dermatitis was the diagnosis. It's not contagious, but it's dug in deep. Prednisone is supposed to help it, and lucky for me, CVS delivered on that pretty fast.</div>
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Four days in, I'm better, but Ali woke up the day after Christmas with a sore throat and snotted up the friendly skies while I scratched my way home. It was a good thing we had an all-Reed set of seats.</div>
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Ali's sneezing was a come-and-go thing while my itching was fairly constant. Despite her illness, she and the Captain also feel compelled to instruct me on how to behave in public. Mostly it started with two words whispered loudly, followed by a command and then them falling against each other laughing. </div>
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“Stop scratching!”<div>
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<li>You look like you’re in need of more crack.</li>
<li>You look like you’re masturbating.</li>
<li>You look like you’re a girl just released from a convent trying to talk to the first man she sees.</li>
<li>You look like a 5-year-old who has to pee.</li>
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Later, as we waited at a restaurant for our connecting flight, Ali ran out of Kleenex but not snot.</div>
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"We can buy you NyQuil and Kleenex," I said.</div>
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"I don’t want NyQuil and I have napkins," she said.</div>
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I pick up my napkin, from which I had torn a sliver for myself and given the rest to her because she’d used up all the napkins within reach.</div>
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"I have napkin," she said.</div>
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We both cracked up in delirium.</div>
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Jeff wanted to walk to another terminal to get ice cream. Sweet Jesus Ice Cream. A favorite that Ali and I have had for breakfast on prior flights. We both declined. That’s how you know how bad we were feeling.</div>
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Jeff peeled off searching for ice cream and, let's face it, a deserved break from us. Ali and I leaned against each other and struggled to the appropriate gate.</div>
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"Mom, I want to die."</div>
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"I want to die with you."</div>
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We discuss how to get killed in an airport. I said I wanted it to be a quick death and was concerned that nothing we did would result in a quick shot to the head. She said I was too demanding. Before the prednisone took effect, I could feel myself swelling up - especially my eyes. There for a while, I thought I might swell up like Violet Beauregarde in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and float home.<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Roboto, arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white;"> </span></span></div>
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We got home about midnight and Jeff sent us to showers and bed, agreeing to drag in all our suitcases and stuff. For the first time since I can remember, I didn't unpack right away. Ali and I spent yesterday on separate couches. I don't think I did one productive thing except apply calamine lotion and take the drugs. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2C4j0cTpls7DxjwboCUW_09cF-pEBInCw3Wc4ZQGNzyC90X7AA2nzqut-kd3l32dPx3o-tcn5NUEydVrpC56suRw3XvfiD_dLaqXzDEviwZvJe9-hxa67USZcY9ylrQnB8vlV5IIEAk/s1600/20191228_151332209_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgw2C4j0cTpls7DxjwboCUW_09cF-pEBInCw3Wc4ZQGNzyC90X7AA2nzqut-kd3l32dPx3o-tcn5NUEydVrpC56suRw3XvfiD_dLaqXzDEviwZvJe9-hxa67USZcY9ylrQnB8vlV5IIEAk/s320/20191228_151332209_iOS.heic" width="320" /></a>Today, the swelling is down, the itching is better and Ali is better, too. I'm halfway to getting the tree taken down. Jeff is off shopping so we'll have fun stuff for New Year's Eve. I should be back to near normal by then.</div>
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Prednisone is supposed to make you really energetic. I'm looking forward to that.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdWyXxgJRVSrTC88u0sOnI3WT6j4Dl6DwlEJ5irv2JKNEM1OALjQMcPTzoUVpLYqXfZ4KczbBAmGQp9s2cLNIzc7ScYp_mE7N45yfifRUJrZMfVVun4SneJe_FzaCVxCUY0xrkEjZ5Zc/s1600/20191225_210658860_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgdWyXxgJRVSrTC88u0sOnI3WT6j4Dl6DwlEJ5irv2JKNEM1OALjQMcPTzoUVpLYqXfZ4KczbBAmGQp9s2cLNIzc7ScYp_mE7N45yfifRUJrZMfVVun4SneJe_FzaCVxCUY0xrkEjZ5Zc/s320/20191225_210658860_iOS.heic" width="320" /></a>Christmas wasn't all itchy and scratchy. Gary crushed Jeff at cribbage. Ali had her fill of crab legs at our annual trip to the China Buffet.</div>
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We took a great walk up Jen's mountain-like hill and ended up with a postcard-like photo of Team Chase and Ali. We also met Mary's new love, the puppy Rory, who is super cute and about the size of a dust mop.</div>
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Rory is also suspect No. 1 for the source of my dermatitis. (Sorry, Mary.) Jeff and Ali have cat allergies, but I haven't had such issues before. </div>
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We had lobster rolls at Allagash Brewing and drowned each other in gifts and food.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2lAXgedMguQkBmED4GojKao_senfc2vqU8Y0aL5dZUzRN4rVYF95E9uXpqc-QEEmiv9OPL6RApCElS7a0JhLUww-jInJhPRdkizxDKt-9wbq8wJgIZeI_QsPFaqlxzoyLe8cZIa5MiQ/s1600/20191228_173241401_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi2lAXgedMguQkBmED4GojKao_senfc2vqU8Y0aL5dZUzRN4rVYF95E9uXpqc-QEEmiv9OPL6RApCElS7a0JhLUww-jInJhPRdkizxDKt-9wbq8wJgIZeI_QsPFaqlxzoyLe8cZIa5MiQ/s320/20191228_173241401_iOS.heic" width="240" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY32i-jLtCKMHZ4V1fOfIZCorHvjTodel2hXbsxkjqQnDLc59RkvRaFM46Mat40ib43utkkvoSTmrZWXzZhNz1z0CVq5Pww3dT4jZ4mS9Q40-fvwlwTv-v9X3eC2XKSVDWTAjI2gg9K7U/s1600/20191228_173202245_iOS.heic" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjY32i-jLtCKMHZ4V1fOfIZCorHvjTodel2hXbsxkjqQnDLc59RkvRaFM46Mat40ib43utkkvoSTmrZWXzZhNz1z0CVq5Pww3dT4jZ4mS9Q40-fvwlwTv-v9X3eC2XKSVDWTAjI2gg9K7U/s200/20191228_173202245_iOS.heic" width="150" /></a> It was a great trip and will be -- overall -- a great holiday break.<br />
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Happy New Year!<br />
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Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-19628883944366216322019-12-15T11:20:00.001-08:002019-12-15T11:20:57.379-08:00All I want for Christmas is some willpowerNot as in <a href="https://www.indycar.com/Series/IndyCar-Series/Will-Power">Will Power</a> the race car driver. (He couldn't handle me.) But as in will power.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILNapYQxVoefQ1mBexoFf6Ps8sW3YqKvtH3tSIPBSrTAbB5ctLAgJ59VcY6EADGKiBKueqra2UBdTO_eQsYVEWqQLtpc97aEKMqfGvGqHMvBAgi5WOtHC18GD1fd1AboPrDUkAjQPVJs/s1600/IMG_1726.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhILNapYQxVoefQ1mBexoFf6Ps8sW3YqKvtH3tSIPBSrTAbB5ctLAgJ59VcY6EADGKiBKueqra2UBdTO_eQsYVEWqQLtpc97aEKMqfGvGqHMvBAgi5WOtHC18GD1fd1AboPrDUkAjQPVJs/s320/IMG_1726.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
My pants already don't fit. A couple weeks ago, I grabbed the wrong pair of jeans, struggled into them and hoped they'd stretch. They didn't, and I'm pretty sure I sported a camel toe the rest of the day. This wasn't a muffin top situation. It was more like an overstuffed bratwurst that's been on the grill so long it's split open and oozing its stuffing.<br />
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My pants held that day, but barely. Had my waist button not managed to stay attached, it would have put someone's eye out, or embedded itself like one of those ninja stars had it sprung free like it was trying to.<br />
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Anyway, Ali is home from Purdue, which makes me happy regardless of my size.<br />
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She's baking coconut macaroons today and will soon dip them in dark chocolate. For my Book Club on Friday, she dipped strawberries in chocolate. And this is just the beginning.<br />
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She's been separated from the Kitchen Aid for weeks now. She has visions of cupcakes and cookies for her friends and the neighbors. I'm going to have to go work in an office to escape sampling and stealing licks from the bowls.<br />
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This morning after she cleared the cobwebs from mixer and it was humming happily in tune with her iPhone music, she said, "Oh I've missed that sound." Later, she signed and said: "It's good to be in a kitchen again."<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8t48c2KwTlIx0xamtUmavwFDWnAqg8eKp1YNSn9zkCSlfS-iNfXUQPrdpIh42TKScIb8EkTJIk5hG3X9sLbBBe9EmNCXzXnVX6FwF826VhXb3igG8Hz1wjx7RqvqmlN903xr-9daHIcg/s1600/desserts.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="461" data-original-width="1058" height="139" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8t48c2KwTlIx0xamtUmavwFDWnAqg8eKp1YNSn9zkCSlfS-iNfXUQPrdpIh42TKScIb8EkTJIk5hG3X9sLbBBe9EmNCXzXnVX6FwF826VhXb3igG8Hz1wjx7RqvqmlN903xr-9daHIcg/s320/desserts.JPG" width="320" /></a>It's not just my child who's contributing to my growth. There's a pile of cookies and popcorn and chocolate everywhere I go these days. I thought I'd save some calories by not drinking until Christmas.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWrv0iP85Z_QSktnPaxHJXP_S1VooO9GT22mtMiK-yTg6BvaBmJSedRh4M-1WIYms08u3RWsIK5_wEp1KttvUrMUAhxyY6EOvx3QYGRms-gybqalHzWAM9X13I0UdVINd53qQIfigkwE/s1600/IMG_1730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWWrv0iP85Z_QSktnPaxHJXP_S1VooO9GT22mtMiK-yTg6BvaBmJSedRh4M-1WIYms08u3RWsIK5_wEp1KttvUrMUAhxyY6EOvx3QYGRms-gybqalHzWAM9X13I0UdVINd53qQIfigkwE/s320/IMG_1730.jpg" width="240" /></a>But today, the Captain came back from Kroger with 10 bottles of great wine that he found in a bargain bin to add to the Advent calendar of wine Tracy and Eric Wiseman dropped off just after Thanksgiving. And of course you can't have Book Club without some champagne. And Bree's Book Club lasagna was so good I almost ate more of it than the damn strawberries.<br />
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Have I mentioned that I'm a weak, weak person?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdM3wxuflCY458e4KvJqB5a3DPpXrFXnkzN3OLryqvk0_xVRmk2F2ebIE2VoThGw1ulGTf1FUWlWdQwLttvz2pekFOrbjHg_DBRzm1rnEM2ZW4I14MaURfveTvHuHRqn54bkXwsU9cMQ/s1600/IMG_1718.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXdM3wxuflCY458e4KvJqB5a3DPpXrFXnkzN3OLryqvk0_xVRmk2F2ebIE2VoThGw1ulGTf1FUWlWdQwLttvz2pekFOrbjHg_DBRzm1rnEM2ZW4I14MaURfveTvHuHRqn54bkXwsU9cMQ/s320/IMG_1718.jpg" width="240" /></a>I should just give up now and amend my Christmas list to elastic-waist pants and oversized shirts. I'm definitely staying away from the colors red and green this year for fear of being mistaken for Santa's largest elf.<br />
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Oh well, that's what resolutions are for, right? And everyone knows you can't start working on a resolution until the new year. We're starting a new decade come January 1 -- so it's probably good to have a meaty challenge for it.<br />
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Looks like it's leggings for me for the rest of the year.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CO0JUlVOdnqdsSNStEQzQQHyHkVucMAYbReg3s5bLtO1XqxjweEABRPku1WKezGIbFraxJm2s6X8doViiELPDdn2_p2Qf6ANPIACR2p8TN2q7hSq0cYN3lXaWhyHJKc_aQ-w_wA_Zkw/s1600/IMG_1722.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1428" data-original-width="1600" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9CO0JUlVOdnqdsSNStEQzQQHyHkVucMAYbReg3s5bLtO1XqxjweEABRPku1WKezGIbFraxJm2s6X8doViiELPDdn2_p2Qf6ANPIACR2p8TN2q7hSq0cYN3lXaWhyHJKc_aQ-w_wA_Zkw/s320/IMG_1722.jpg" width="320" /></a>The picture of Jeff isn't of him with his Kroger treasure, but him yesterday preparing to deliver craft beer to his friends before we set out for the Kahn's champagne tasting where we found Kate, Niki and Shelly there to sample as well.<br />
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Today, if I can wrest her away from the kitchen, maybe Ali and I will drop by the gym. That'll work off a bite or two...<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-38485824436340993062019-12-01T15:24:00.001-08:002019-12-01T15:25:48.274-08:00Team Reed is lit<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ali brought a friend home from college, and the Captain claims I abused the poor kid.<br />
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I'm fairly certain I didn't, though I did doubt myself there for a while. I put that nonsense away when Ali told me that Jason confided in her that he was glad put in so many hours of labor. "I ate a lot," he said.<br />
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Didn't we all, Jason?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPu8ppK51zXa7JhLGNlV2YXUV9el1oJxBUPB8h56kZoPc6cUOAZK0AZPoTofmVBoaZtUNWn6Jp0_qmCpiKbczekLXcZsrpNvflmLP2cWDlaNDTDBB7knNeqN-_eakXBX9gzx3t-0S_3X8/s1600/IMG_1665.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPu8ppK51zXa7JhLGNlV2YXUV9el1oJxBUPB8h56kZoPc6cUOAZK0AZPoTofmVBoaZtUNWn6Jp0_qmCpiKbczekLXcZsrpNvflmLP2cWDlaNDTDBB7knNeqN-_eakXBX9gzx3t-0S_3X8/s320/IMG_1665.jpg" width="240" /></a>Decorating for Christmas has always been a tradition for Ali and me. We put the tree together the morning after Thanksgiving. I do the lights, but she pretty much sets the theme and decides what goes where while I set about with other areas of the house. Most of the decor is concentrated in the living/dining room, the kitchen and the porch. So, we put in a bunch of CDs from the House of Merle Christmas collection and blast the holiday spirit into being into every room of the house.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqstJ6Ff8HjTjvRNeZTzR94nYr_U20zmO4W9kdX_p4SYqjm6HH_DdfIh515awK-gCJRdk0fIr8DM_d_LqKU9WGR3HxH98UpYhCkRHd83cBlVZFhSbojkPg92UgpmAB5Nj_Cp_LGSelStU/s1600/IMG_1674.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqstJ6Ff8HjTjvRNeZTzR94nYr_U20zmO4W9kdX_p4SYqjm6HH_DdfIh515awK-gCJRdk0fIr8DM_d_LqKU9WGR3HxH98UpYhCkRHd83cBlVZFhSbojkPg92UgpmAB5Nj_Cp_LGSelStU/s320/IMG_1674.jpg" width="240" /></a>Ali usually turns off Toby Keith's "Santa I'm Still Here," but this year, she just cried through it like she did the first time she heard it and realized it was a story about a little homeless boy. Most of the other songs aren't as sad, and Jason jumped right in to hum and sing along.<br />
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As the weather was good and I had labor, we started outside. Ali and Jason took on the lights while I got rid of leaves that were clogging prime decorating space. I really didn't mean to bag leaves -- I've been mulching to minimize the need for that duty and was planning to chop them into bits with the mower.<br />
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But it turned out to be a bigger pile than Id envisioned and I didn't want to spoil the ambiance. At about bag three, Jeff came out and decided we needed to do even more leaves, so it turned into a big leaf production alongside the light display.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2iM_Na2DvV9E900zI9um2y-iSLZFKtF8T2WDKrnjVrJfG_vOPVY9sy7XCgvHooXPYs5MJf8eJSdq9FwMpI7w4zRqBv4NV3iRbS6ENJ3Bc9gq9rh6euS8r0hOp-bVzfcaLZatg6J_pn8/s1600/IMG_1681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1272" data-original-width="1600" height="254" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv2iM_Na2DvV9E900zI9um2y-iSLZFKtF8T2WDKrnjVrJfG_vOPVY9sy7XCgvHooXPYs5MJf8eJSdq9FwMpI7w4zRqBv4NV3iRbS6ENJ3Bc9gq9rh6euS8r0hOp-bVzfcaLZatg6J_pn8/s320/IMG_1681.jpg" width="320" /></a><br />
With Jason supporting from the ground, Ali went high and was on the roof when Jeff came out, so of course he set her to work on the gutters as well.<br />
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At a loss for hands-on work, Jason asked if I wanted him to switch to leaf duty. But I the Captain on that job, which was the worst job in the yard. So Jason went back to finishing up the lights.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPjaOCOqomhOWqGRIYfJBjxmGyhD08_pujfgetMZupHJH8cTBPh52EbufLZfavMVE8Al5-FGJmuv3iX6nWLPztEhfNxfQeZ0lhgUjoySK97XrnOL7mzp1JJSOjzJbxg7eiyin9WE7kwqg/s1600/IMG_1680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPjaOCOqomhOWqGRIYfJBjxmGyhD08_pujfgetMZupHJH8cTBPh52EbufLZfavMVE8Al5-FGJmuv3iX6nWLPztEhfNxfQeZ0lhgUjoySK97XrnOL7mzp1JJSOjzJbxg7eiyin9WE7kwqg/s320/IMG_1680.jpg" width="320" /></a>Jason's usual holiday job in California involves putting lights on his family's two-story house, so he was in his element albeit 40 degrees colder than his norm. But he was a super trouper and their work turned out great.<br />
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After a Thanksgiving leftovers lunch, we turned to inside work, which involved a bit of structural integrity assessment. We nearly worked too close to time to meet the Jacksons for our annual Friendsgiving dinner.<br />
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That was its usual amazing time. We love the Jacksons and our tradition, which I think started when Ali was two-years-old. Jason slid right in. It helped that he's a Boilermaker.<br />
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If you think Jeff is proud of Ali, double that emotion for Patrick when he found out she'd gotten into his alma mater. I suspect Ali will be seeing the Jacksons on campus in the coming months.<br />
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I had to return my workforce Saturday morning as Ali was meeting another friend for the Old Oaken Bucket game, which had a 12 noon kick-off. I'd have kept them longer if I could. Start to finish, it was a great, great holiday weekend.<br />
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I'd heard a bit about Jason, but hadn't met him until Tuesday when I picked him and Ali up. Before we hit the interstate, I asked them if we needed a snack before leaving campus, and Ali told Jason that, on road trips, if I ever ask if anyone's hungry, it really means that I'm hungry and am looking for support to stop for food. (That is only occasionally true.)<br />
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On the return trip, Jason had gotten up later than Ali and me. I made them take a bunch of leftovers and various snacks I had around the house, but only Ali and I had breakfast before we got in the car.<br />
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Because I'm polite and also I was fretting a little bit about whether I'd worked him too hard, I advised Jason that we'd have plenty of time to stop for a drive-thru breakfast if he was hungry.<br />
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From his spot in the backseat comes, "I'm fine, but are YOU hungry?"<br />
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He's going to have to learn to take her statements at face value...<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-54953672984680556582019-11-29T09:04:00.002-08:002019-11-29T09:04:19.818-08:00Starch, anyone?Nutritionists say starchy foods should make up about a third of a healthy human diet that should include carbohydrates (aka starch), protein, fat, vitamins, minerals, fiber and water.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv70Z4G8DR6b3OH0tKviqs2S5mg432Ko0r0tszvcsjbqm1Tj26tDzjObES_DUF1HvC_2qSKCcIXNaCAhEOLM-2B-4CgXravQVLQTCl4jgEKzH1Ue_olQDyhWhko9oQobfTNXURKcKx1Vs/s1600/Diana%2527splateofstarch.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiv70Z4G8DR6b3OH0tKviqs2S5mg432Ko0r0tszvcsjbqm1Tj26tDzjObES_DUF1HvC_2qSKCcIXNaCAhEOLM-2B-4CgXravQVLQTCl4jgEKzH1Ue_olQDyhWhko9oQobfTNXURKcKx1Vs/s320/Diana%2527splateofstarch.JPG" width="240" /></a>I'm pretty sure my family, several generation back, stopped listening after carbohydrates. They definitely heard the "fat" portion and took it to mean fat wa essential to make all the other stuff palatable.<br />
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Evidence? A plate from Thanksgiving past <span style="font-size: large;">➨</span><br />
Here you have your basics of a decent holiday meal:<br />
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<ul>
<li>Noodles on a base of mashed potatoes</li>
<li>Macaroni and cheese</li>
<li>Corn</li>
<li>Not pictures but surely within reach is one of Donna's home-made, buttery rolls (soft butter if Jason Bradbury is in the house.)</li>
</ul>
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You really only need two color schemes to have a fabulous Bickel holiday meal: white and yellow.<br />
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There will be other colors available, but they're not the stuff people dream of and fight over:<br />
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<ul>
<li><span style="color: #e69138;">Orange</span> for the sweet potatoes with or without marshmallows depending on who's hosting but surely with butter</li>
<li><span style="color: #38761d;">Green</span> for the green beans bathed in either cream of something soup or swimming in a bacon-grease shimmer and featuring great hunks of iron-skillet fried bacon from a pig that may have spent the better part of a year with you.</li>
<li><span style="color: #ea9999;">Pink</span> because that pig had more to give and you must have both ham AND turkey available</li>
<li><span style="color: #783f04;">Brown</span> for the turkey, which could be roasted, grilled or deep-fried.</li>
<li><span style="color: #bf9000;">Beige</span> for the gravy that goes with the turkey but not the white potatoes because they get the full-fat chicken-stock broth that makes another kind of gravy.</li>
<li><span style="color: #38761d;">Ca</span><span style="color: #f9cb9c;">mou</span><span style="color: #6aa84f;">fla</span><span style="color: #bf9000;">ge</span> which is the only color I can ascribe to the dressing, which may or may not include oysters but started out with bread, butter and a bunch of herbs.</li>
</ul>
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We got to host Thanksgiving this year and all of the above mentioned items were there. Our Jasheway friends brought a mac-and-cheese that was every bit a Bickel production. My guess is there were two pounds of cheese for every box of pasta and probably the same portion of butter. Kirstin attended a family wedding with me once, so I think she must have gotten infected then.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHrYgyT9CPMwZUGiDh6_ZRA6rrE13_iBhi6OvOwyRrTUJ3LszvDzwdSKfqtLFFBhn6VVRzMB_L9UR-wRYL0uSn-OGAJgAyzc9CwrLjBYfsTMIbe3j7D402G-M3mQW_ZmBvqkYGD686fI/s1600/Thanksgiving2019Kitchgroup.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuHrYgyT9CPMwZUGiDh6_ZRA6rrE13_iBhi6OvOwyRrTUJ3LszvDzwdSKfqtLFFBhn6VVRzMB_L9UR-wRYL0uSn-OGAJgAyzc9CwrLjBYfsTMIbe3j7D402G-M3mQW_ZmBvqkYGD686fI/s320/Thanksgiving2019Kitchgroup.jpg" width="320" /></a>Alison's friend Jason Hickman (not to be confused with my nephew, Jason, Donna's cossetted baby boy for whom she ensures there's softened butter for the rolls. Jaime, Donna's eldest daughter and her daughters claim they get cold, hard butter if Jason isn't around...) made the pies. Including home-made crust.<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfUYZfZQ_k-Hmxekg2JwQEQbhXFQdK0Wv5FtyT1HeEa2okm2CvkpYzwnnNAdxHPoqaWQU_BxoERC8OYbDuiwP9PYnEbqkwiEg_JmBMWQSenAJNJn1PvSHsmFmZunN-sjr8Qno_4ppFyw/s1600/Thanksgiving2019JeffandTurkeyFryer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1133" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGfUYZfZQ_k-Hmxekg2JwQEQbhXFQdK0Wv5FtyT1HeEa2okm2CvkpYzwnnNAdxHPoqaWQU_BxoERC8OYbDuiwP9PYnEbqkwiEg_JmBMWQSenAJNJn1PvSHsmFmZunN-sjr8Qno_4ppFyw/s320/Thanksgiving2019JeffandTurkeyFryer.jpg" width="226" /></a><br />
One pecan and two pumpkin. We had a bit of an issue with the pecan pie but it did get consumed first. Ali's chocolate-chip pumpkin cookies were also a big hit.<br />
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Jeff deep fried four turkey breasts after brining two of them. Jim Bradbury kept watch over the flames from the chimenea and made sure Jeff didn't burn anything down with the fryer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuLEZbNozgaYnZ6_oU_t2du9HGLE3NrSt_bErcwWge88xOjo4fzIAIDQENO_OXX1Eohgt-zMG3tBVf85w17e_dQJDf9DsWHfVr_g2n539EdTTdkWJWzle4cq1s1ertTKl9pgxaUElIEw/s1600/Thanksgiving2019Firelovers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmuLEZbNozgaYnZ6_oU_t2du9HGLE3NrSt_bErcwWge88xOjo4fzIAIDQENO_OXX1Eohgt-zMG3tBVf85w17e_dQJDf9DsWHfVr_g2n539EdTTdkWJWzle4cq1s1ertTKl9pgxaUElIEw/s320/Thanksgiving2019Firelovers.jpg" width="320" /></a>My main job, per usual, was sous cheffing and clean up. It's just safer for everyone. I peeled 30 carrots, six sweet potatoes, 10 pounds of white potatoes and halved about a million brussel sprouts. Two pounds of bacon went into the weekend, but Ali and Jason ate half of that. The rest was for green beans and a shrimp appetizer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHupy_fZGa7rOrJhOU0ipjJQsk5rkW9hyt8waDa3VmKaWmx1N1dtVWSc5H8_rJDRkQ2te9mGIYCoXhM2jC0OrERdXEIdNRP3TLeV_5bYUzhyphenhyphen0aZMku6GA8t-DMSKE8evnK6Ml-jNxawLQ/s1600/Thanksgiving2019EuchreHand.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHupy_fZGa7rOrJhOU0ipjJQsk5rkW9hyt8waDa3VmKaWmx1N1dtVWSc5H8_rJDRkQ2te9mGIYCoXhM2jC0OrERdXEIdNRP3TLeV_5bYUzhyphenhyphen0aZMku6GA8t-DMSKE8evnK6Ml-jNxawLQ/s320/Thanksgiving2019EuchreHand.jpg" width="320" /></a>It all seemed to go fairly well. We moved the couches and added tables so everyone could be together, and that provided ample room for euchre with dessert.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoW28PLgeLQU392UlB-X_V85GmR0V0HB6G4-zMgIUzpA_lArjn2cnJYSArduI_ZbujhwmVqitG1H4AExXMuqUmBvZaebff0Foc-dlFd5__49MPijZ-CinLBmc3lcQ7Ul17zlGdIVMGGM/s1600/Thanksgiving2019PurduevIU.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzoW28PLgeLQU392UlB-X_V85GmR0V0HB6G4-zMgIUzpA_lArjn2cnJYSArduI_ZbujhwmVqitG1H4AExXMuqUmBvZaebff0Foc-dlFd5__49MPijZ-CinLBmc3lcQ7Ul17zlGdIVMGGM/s320/Thanksgiving2019PurduevIU.jpg" width="213" /></a>In my least hospitable act, Jim and I handily beat our guests, Joyce Jasheway and Jason. To make up for it, I gave Joyce a recipe and fed and housed Jason and then promptly abused him by having him help with Thanksgiving prep soon to be followed with Christmas decorating.<br />
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It was a really great day despite Rachael (IU Hoosier freshman) making the most of the bitter in-state rivalry with Alison (Purdue Boilermaker freshman) and the usual claims of cheating at euchre. <br />
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Like pie tops off a great meal, our holiday finished with a visit from Eric, Tracy and Elizabeth.<br />
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Next up is Christmas. Ali got up early and is visiting some high school friends. But Jason is now awake, and he made the mistake of saying that at home in California, his day-after-Thanksgiving job is to decorate outside. So, he and I can get to work while we wait on Ali to come back and tackle the tree. I really thought he'd still be asleep, so this is like an extra bonus.<br />
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Jason is my new best friend. He and I will be in the shed soon figuring out the inventory and where lights should go. He's tall! I love him. I would totally soften the butter for him.<br />
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Jeff started out the day at 4:15 a.m. at a beer share/Bourbon County beer shopping so I expect he'll be down for the count and out of my decorating way any time now. Because I'm an excellent wife, I tried to get him to nap in our bedroom. (It's more comfortable there. Plus, he won't hear what I'm planning next and try to interfere...) From the looks of thing to my left, I've lost that battle.<br />
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It's not going to last for him, poor thing. Because part of the tradition of decorating the tree involves cracking out the House of Merle Christmas CDs. I know Auntie Jen will be doing the same, so we'll decorate together even though we're apart.<br />
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And later, I'll review the starch inventory. We sent a lot away with hungry college students, but there's plenty of white and yellow food to heat up. We'll be fully starched before our traditional Friendsgiving with Team Jackson tonight.<br />
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It truly is the best time of the year.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-33232557675872960122019-11-17T07:09:00.001-08:002019-11-17T07:13:35.714-08:00A voice for phone sex, a throat for Vick's.The Captain's voice had never been more sexy, so I knew I was in for it.<br />
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<div>
The "it" in this scenario wasn't the good kind. The sore throat he'd been complaining about had morphed into his first cold of the season. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
I quickly took evasive action.<br />
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<div>
I slept on the couch. (The guest room is clean and ready for a healthy guest, and I was too lazy to event contemplate the decontamination efforts that would be required if I stayed there.) </div>
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I avoided being too close to his air space when he emerged from his sick bed. </div>
<div>
I took Tracy Wiseman's advice and started pounding Vitamin D3. </div>
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I got my 10K steps but otherwise rested. </div>
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I had soup.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div>
As a result of my proactive stance, my voice should take on a deeper, throatier sound (ala the Captain) today. Or so I suspect. I'm hoping not as I have a lot of work to do next week.</div>
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I may not get my 10K steps today. </div>
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This is what marriage gets you. Someone should have warned me.<br />
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Jeff is feeling better, so I figure I'll survive. And Ali called to check in yesterday, so it's not all bad.<br />
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Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-89878686922961353722019-11-03T15:56:00.001-08:002019-11-03T15:56:21.522-08:00Goodbye, old friends. You've been a real and lasting pain, but I'll miss you.My Pentecostal grandmother kept a hamper of fancy shoes and dresses that my cousins and I would dive into every once in a while when we were little girls.<br />
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Mind you, she was Pentecostal. They weren't high heels, but they were fancier than anything she wore during the day. This grandmother made all of her own clothes, wrapped her long hair in a bun and her only nod to makeup was a paper box of loose powder that I think she used for church. Oh! And she wore a broach or some kind of a pin on her church dresses.<br />
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But we still loved dress-up from that little hamper. My favorite item was a pair of shoes that had to be fake snakeskin or crocodile low, chunky heels with a buckle. They might have been worn out and hideous even when new, but I must have loved them because I remember the hamper and I remember those shoes.<br />
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I've been thinking about those shoes as I consider bidding farewell to some shoes that my grandmother would never have worn.<br />
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I started wearing serious heels when I started working as a news reporter. I was 18 when I started getting paid to report. I had reached my full height by then, so I was not just young, I was short and the heels were a power boost. I had heels in every color, height and fabric. I had real snakeskin shoes that I remember wearing to Mesker Park Zoo. Not that I'd go into a snake exhibit, but I did want to show them what I was capable of should they ever escape and slither after me.<br />
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Years of wearing heels coupled with a gene pool that runs deep into bunions and bad knees have taken an obvious toll. This weekend, I decided I could wear these beautiful, red suede bootie heels to a fancy event. I've had them a couple years but never worn them out. They live with the other heels in my collection, on the high shelf in my closet.<br />
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The spikiest heels I own were debuted in New York City when I staffed a media event and thought I needed to fit in. The black and white ones went to an Oscar party. In those days, I wasn't smart enough to sneak a pair of flats along.<br />
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I made it about 30 minutes at the fancy weekend event before I limped upstairs and put my boots back on. I knew I wouldn't make it all night. I DID think I'd make it longer than I did.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOtCYsCtDFyCFQeDpJZKl6oPyhGjfxe3p5dpDc4scVrrkItZqv-aRp5Vwv8qDct8dmFVxH84ENNC_RNTuH0vd8pdaLPMKgQlPBRO7jUUBUgB6pARmfutne4flQbIC7wHN8sxVDUzYs5o/s1600/IMG_1619.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="563" data-original-width="790" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvOtCYsCtDFyCFQeDpJZKl6oPyhGjfxe3p5dpDc4scVrrkItZqv-aRp5Vwv8qDct8dmFVxH84ENNC_RNTuH0vd8pdaLPMKgQlPBRO7jUUBUgB6pARmfutne4flQbIC7wHN8sxVDUzYs5o/s320/IMG_1619.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Table 37 at Taste 2019.</td></tr>
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I would toss the shoes and some fancy dresses into a hamper, but the chance that I'll have a pack of grandkids wanting to play dress-up is as thin as those Stuart Weitzman heels.<br />
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I'd give them to Ali but they're size 8s and she's an 11.<br />
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I've considered donating to Dress for Success, but they're not really<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAXhh_lxkyLSoEzJlSNw7CajqqwHb2hu_6j478VbCA9mm0IqC0nWkmwGPuxj3XOZDXWSPAGfXhxhfjAk4l3nwXMR1j2TRM-COXbeSuCpG9i15GeX4q7wIogARpA3PX_XNJZKFuS0m_GI/s1600/IMG_1620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="649" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigAXhh_lxkyLSoEzJlSNw7CajqqwHb2hu_6j478VbCA9mm0IqC0nWkmwGPuxj3XOZDXWSPAGfXhxhfjAk4l3nwXMR1j2TRM-COXbeSuCpG9i15GeX4q7wIogARpA3PX_XNJZKFuS0m_GI/s320/IMG_1620.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 16px; text-align: center;">Here's just the girls. I would have been as tall as Karin<br /> had I kept my red shoes on.</td></tr>
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business-y.<br />
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Jeff claims they still have plenty of life left in them and that they won't hurt at all if I just relegate them to horizontal use. Because he's helpful like that.<br />
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My guess is that next time I host Book Club, I'm going to see if the young bloods in my posse can wear them. Maybe we'll skip the books and just play dress-up.<br />
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In other news, Jeff and I visited Ali for Parent's Weekend recently. She's still doing amazingly well in West Lafayette and should receive part of our leftover Halloween candy in her latest care package. It was a monsoon when we drove up and so we skipped out to shop and have gourmet grilled cheese before coming back to a really competitive -- and looonnng -- volleyball game.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHKKjGkr4rK2sBSpjisvHVn-wsWRMpE6aVM1pkGSCOUhWhkD4e-Fkqj-JsAZz39IMVD80flqPEiA5Bm31UL0kLvJdqoA8eoMTPOE-TCinbnIWFoIF92BpfN3OyVIeyB9-MJMeP5i7oc8/s1600/IMG_1596.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1258" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrHKKjGkr4rK2sBSpjisvHVn-wsWRMpE6aVM1pkGSCOUhWhkD4e-Fkqj-JsAZz39IMVD80flqPEiA5Bm31UL0kLvJdqoA8eoMTPOE-TCinbnIWFoIF92BpfN3OyVIeyB9-MJMeP5i7oc8/s320/IMG_1596.jpg" width="251" /></a>Ali was going to Rocky Horror Picture Show with some friends and shockingly, didn't invite us to go a long. We had super fun, though, and I'm kind of glad the rain chased us off campus so we could just hang out together. Jeff scored a new Purdue sweatshirt for his birthday, and Ali and I conspired to also smuggle home a Purdue bumper sticker for him.<br />
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Jeff's always represented Ali's school via bumper sticker. I'd get a tattoo before I'd put a bumper sticker on my Mustang. It doesn't mean I don't love or support her. I just wear it in my soul rather than on my car.<br />
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Here's us at the volley ball game. We had trekked about six miles through the Tippecanoe County Mall before criss-crossing campus to get to the game, so we were a little damp. And I was super glad I was wearing flat boots.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-24560942414723631432019-10-13T07:12:00.002-07:002019-10-13T07:12:45.326-07:00Back Home again in IndianaI drove alone to my home town recently and snapped some photos along the way. I often lament the lack of great job opportunity in that part of the state, but I've been remiss in not commenting enough on some of its beauty.<br />
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Here's a look at part of my drive, which seems like kind of a country music song in pictures. I might have had the tunes blaring and I might have taken some curves a little too fast, but it was a beautiful day -- one of the last top-down days of the year -- and I was mostly alone on the two-lanes.<br />
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Gold stars if you can match the closest town with the shot. The first one doesn't count as there's a huge clue in it.<br />
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I should do this again now that the fall colors are coming in and there are pumpkins on display along the route.<br />
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<br />Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-51264738609788246522019-10-10T17:57:00.002-07:002019-10-10T17:57:18.378-07:00Sorry I'm late... I was hanging with my kidOne day, several years ago, Jeff returned from doing something super important to find Ali and I lazing about. We were probably binge watching Total Drama Island or something educational like that.<div>
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Anyway, he accused us of laying around like dogs. So of course we cabbaged onto that phrase and looked forward to the next time we could lay around like dogs. Or maybe it was a phrase that I came up with. I don't really remember. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLMyoPnhBL5j6rUSC8xILp0NBtlSapQbfqjiHGS99DhDE2yiz-pcfsSu_00eOYKKSoyZTSw7nrTIvW9vkqDzwWTgzs4N5s7CXiJ1Vz5LEQoF5gzL-rmQMT8YcHrwy5Dz5TZOhDb2o4mk/s1600/IMG_1550.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1296" data-original-width="1445" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNLMyoPnhBL5j6rUSC8xILp0NBtlSapQbfqjiHGS99DhDE2yiz-pcfsSu_00eOYKKSoyZTSw7nrTIvW9vkqDzwWTgzs4N5s7CXiJ1Vz5LEQoF5gzL-rmQMT8YcHrwy5Dz5TZOhDb2o4mk/s320/IMG_1550.jpg" width="320" /></a>But Ali and I laid around like dogs this past weekend. And it was wonderful. We'd gotten up early so she could hang out with her friends a bit. I worked while she did that and then took her to a dental appointment and worked more while she went under the scraper.</div>
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But then, we went home and binged on South Park. </div>
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It was the first time she'd been home since she went to Purdue. We'll see her again this weekend because the Misadventures of Bindu, a movie filmed in Broad Ripple, will debut on Saturday. She was an extra in it, and we're going to see if she made the cut. Otherwise, we wouldn't see her again until Parent's Weekend and then Thanksgiving.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGLnwD1OLcdcStPO-HAwlThqB8sL48PZ6pYuLT-Fh4z_fnt9DyLN22cr3dnFMFNcbGO5CBjRslguIynKDrWa1PLismpWrrEFDmp4qa_Ptfzb6-5ypoSaD8ZGTL81jN77AmXIINTRf83g/s1600/IMG_1551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXGLnwD1OLcdcStPO-HAwlThqB8sL48PZ6pYuLT-Fh4z_fnt9DyLN22cr3dnFMFNcbGO5CBjRslguIynKDrWa1PLismpWrrEFDmp4qa_Ptfzb6-5ypoSaD8ZGTL81jN77AmXIINTRf83g/s320/IMG_1551.jpg" width="240" /></a>From Lafayette we went straight to Petite Chou for French onion soup. We didn't even care that to get a table we had to sit outside and bundle up with blankets from the car. </div>
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Afterward, she and Jeff saw the second iteration of It. I'm a chicken and I avoid traditional horror shows and shows that involve tortured children. I did go with them to Joker the next night. We had poutine.</div>
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We also had a girls' dinner with Aunt La, Jenna and Amy, which was fabulous. The girls agreed that going to college was an adjustment with ups and downs. But it's evening out for both of them, and for their poor parents as we all find our new normal.</div>
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All in all, it was a fabulous four days. I miss her all over again.<br />
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Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9107216189891054743.post-7472870594550940742019-10-01T17:22:00.001-07:002019-10-02T13:54:59.437-07:00I might be a bit twisted, but I'm fixing that.Let me just say that I have a longstanding rule about going to the doctor: I do not web surf to determine what this or that pain might be or to learn what may lie ahead of whatever fix I have coming. I'm a world-class worrier already. I don't need more anxiety from the myriad possibilities the interwebs offer.<br />
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I didn't do it when I had a child.<br />
I didn't do it when I had my first root canal.<br />
I didn't do it when my knee hurt so bad I couldn't walk.<br />
I didn't do it when I was sure I was dying of uterine cancer.<br />
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Spoiler alert: the baby arrived just fine while I was in a morphine coma; my only root canal pain came from having my mouth open for so long, which surprised me as I <i>can</i> yammer on; I didn't need knee replacement; and it was a UTI easily fixed with meds<br />
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So when I was first encouraged to see a chiropractor, I laughed politely and said I'd consider it. I can pop my own back, thank you very much, I was thinking. Years later, still in pain, I capitulated. How bad could it be? Tons of people see chiropractors every day. And my friend Bree Emsweller owns the place I went to. You may remember her from steering me toward <a href="http://teamreedblog.blogspot.com/2019/02/naked-monkey-v-hairy-beast.html">lip waxing</a>. I was temporarily less hairy, but man, I'm pretty sure that's on the list of things Homeland Security does in dark rooms in third world countries.<br />
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At Book Club the other day, I was complaining about my leg. Bree pushed and prodded on me awhile and suggested I visit the <a href="https://www.thejoint.com/indiana/indianapolis/broad-ripple-19006">Joint in Broad Ripple</a>.<br />
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I was expecting a strenuous massage.<br />
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I kind of got beat up.<br />
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Don't get me wrong: it's been helpful. But I was really expecting something different than what I got. Remember, I did zero research other than Googling to figure out what to wear.<br />
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So I was a little tense, not knowing exactly what to expect. There was a moment when I was sure the good doctor had mistaken me for a chicken on a Sunday when the preacher was coming over for dinner.<br />
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After a couple of twists and jerks, he said, "I think we'll try something different; you don't seem to be relaxing enough to make that effective,"<br />
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I thought: "You got that right, buddy." I mean, it was like he was Tom Cruise and I was a bad guy who had to die silently. Who can relax in a situation like that?<br />
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The alternative was he took something like a hammer -- I was face down by this time on the table and didn't see the device he used -- and commenced to thumping on the sides of my neck like I was a watermelon he wasn't sure was quite ripe.<br />
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It was waaaaaaay better than the wrenching thing. but all things being equal, it's not something I'd generally pay for.<br />
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If you haven't been to a chiropractor to get what they call an "adjustment", let me clue you in: an adjustment requires the chiropractor to prod and pull and push on your body until your joints cry "Uncle." You're on a table that pops with every vigorous pummeling. It sounds like a jail door slamming shut on your innocence.<br />
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Sometimes he'll just pull your leg, but not in a fun kind of jokey way. He literally yanks on your leg.<br />
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And when you stand up at the end, you feel.... better.<br />
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Or I did. I'm still analyzing it, but apparently I have a twisted/tilted/uneven pelvis that needs to be pushed, pulled and prodded back into place. It's been the issue affecting my walk and potentially is why I have had leg pain for the last several years.<br />
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I'm kind of excited about it. Until, you know, I have to lay down again and have my joints pummeled back into the position they should have been in all along.<br />
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I think I recommend it. But I'm twisted/tilted/uneven.<br />
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Take my word for what it's worth.Cherylhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02653405802122627521noreply@blogger.com0