Thanks

Your Monday Photo Shoot: Show something you're thankful for this year. It doesn't have to be the thing you're most thankful for; even the little things count. But of course, picture whatever you'd like.

What I am thankful for? Gosh there are a lot of things. Here's one.

I hate washing dishes. In addition to the usual reasons for hating to wash dishes, sinks are about a half inch to short. If I stand there washing for a while, I find myself leaning over just a hair and my back kills me later. I also am thankful for the timer feature (you can almost see the red light), so I can run the dish washer while I'm asleep. For some reason, pretty much no matter what I do I can always smell the dish detergent, unless I'm upstairs, so I don't like being around when the dishwasher is running. And it's noisy. (OK, I got the idea for this from someone I used to go to church with, but I am thankful for this.)

Here are some others:

Awesome Sister! (yeah, again)

So my little sister's best friend in the whole entire world, J., had to clean out her toys. Her paternal grandmother is coming for Thanksgiving and her mom said clean it up, sort out what goes to charity, or toss it. (MIL have this effect on people, I don't get it.) So J and her sister sorted through their old toys and came up with a box of Bratz dolls to go to the thrift store. When my Dad and Nettie got to their house to pick of J (after she'd finished cleaning her room), J asked Nettie if she'd like some of her old dolls. Nettie said sure and brought the box home to pick through.

The eight dolls were all naked, had ratty knotted hair, and no feet. (Instead of little shoes the Bratz dolls have interchangeable feet. At least they don't have to wear high heels all the time.) Nettie didn't think they looked very good, certainly not good enough to give away.

Sunday afternoon she gave each doll a bath and washed their hair. (Granny had a special Downy solution recipe that works wonders on doll hair and stuffed animals.) Each doll got her own little cupful of rinse so her hair would untangle. Then her hair was combed smooth. Then Nettie, out of her limited selection of Bratz clothing and shoe-feet, found an outfit for each doll and feet for all but one.

Mom encouraged her but the idea for the bathing, etc. came from Nettie. She is so awesome. (most of the time;))

P.S. This is my 101st post!

Change

Weekend Assignment #191: Show us, or tell us a story about, change.

A before and after picture of the street where you grew up, a story about meeting an old friend after many years, two pictures of yourself separated by a number of years, a tale about changing your life, or showing or tell us about something in the process of changing itself. Any of these is good. And doesn't have to be a negative, because sometimes change is a good thing.

Extra credit: Do you feel that you are changing in some way right now?

So this one day I went over to the drink machines across the street (we don't have any in our building) and the damn machine was sold out of Cherry Coke and wouldn't give me my money back. I didn't have enough more change to get a drink. And one time I hit the change return and even though I'd put in a bunch of nickels and dimes, I got quarters back!

Oh...you mean the verb 'to change' not coin money.

Seriously, here are some puppy pictures at a day old, one week, two weeks, and three and a half weeks old.


You can't tell in the 2-wk old pic but their eyes had just opened. They are three of the cutest little handfuls you will ever see. Anyone want a Chihuahua-Feist puppy for Christmas? They'll be 8 weeks old the Sunday before. Please. My sis and bro-in-law really need the cash and I'm not adding any more semi-permanent residents to my house. If a puppy stays my BIL will have to move into his truck. (Actually...hmm...well, my sis might not like that option.)

Extra Credit: No. A lot in my life has changed in the last 10 years or so but mostly I feel just like I did when I was 20. In someways this is a good thing, in someways it isn't.

I care.

So I got this email the other day (for at least the second time, from the same friend) where a woman goes on about why she doesn't care if we violate some one's human rights, violate some one's civil rights, offend them....because it was Arab, Muslim terrorists who attacked us.

When I hear that a prisoner, who was issued a Koran and a prayer mat, and fed "special" food that is paid for by my tax dollars, is complaining that his holy book is being "mishandled," you can absolutely believe in your heart of hearts: I don't care.

Well, I'll delete it and certainly without passing it on because I do care. I think we, as citizens of a country that holds itself up as the greatest in the world, should behave better than terrorists and thugs. If the US wants to put itself up on a pedestal and say we are better than you to countries that don't hold democracy and freedom dear, than we need to act the part.

I think the rule of law, while not perfect, is one of the most important things about the US. We have a Constitution, that everyone has to follow (even you Mr. President!). We have rights granted us as citizens that have to be respected by the police and the government. (I think those rights should be extended to everyone, as I believe they are part of the founding principles of our country.)

If we don't follow our own rules why should anyone even listen to us?
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And so the day isn't a complete downer: Puppies! (I've added more pictures to the album.)

Puppies and more

Bloo-oo-ooo Grass!

The other day Sarah wrote about how boring her life was. Well, last night was my first "real concert" (non-orchestral, I wasn't playing in it, had an opening act). This would be the first time I've gone to hear a band play that didn't involve some other activity (arts festival, drinking,...). I think much of the audience was dead. I was about 2/3 of the way back and saw very little seat dancing. Some whooping and whistling, though. I think I like hearing bluegrass in outdoor settings better, it's a more relaxed atmosphere. That way I can stand in the back and dance a bit without feeling as stupid. Maybe I should have sat on the back row, then no one would have seen my head bobbing and swaying. On to the performers:

Ruby Jane, the opener, has some mad picking and fiddling skillz. Wow, just imagine what she'll be doing when she can drive. Her voice is young but I heard potential in it.

Claire Lynch's band members all have fingers of gold. Well, Claire herself may have fingers of silver (on rhythm guitar) but she has a voice of gold. I heard a few years ago at Kentuck. She was, I think, even better last night. (Except for the more staid audience.) Missy Raines is an awesome bassist. Jim Hurst is great on guitar and banjo. Jason Thomas was excellent on the fiddle and mandolin. They could have done two sets, or three.

It was the best reason I've had for staying up late for a long time. Hate it for all of you who missed it.

Images

Is the such a thing as sub-pathological body dysmorphic disorder? Can it be a disorder if you think you look better than you do? I ask because....

In my last post I said I looked fat in a picture, now I know part of that is the camera angle, clothing, etc. but part of it is my image of myself. Most of the time when I look in the mirror I see myself basically they way I've seen myself since I was 17 or so. A size 12/14, pale, with bad acne. That's what I expect and if I don't look too hard it's what I see. Sometimes when I look at the mirror I see myself as I am now or maybe even a little bigger (for measurements see this post). When that happens I think "I fat!" or "This outfit makes me look huge!" (usually followed by "oh well, I'm dressed now.") But most of the time I barely notice my waistline, just whether or not my clothes still fit it.

With my skin it's even weirder. I know my acne is WAY better than when I was a teenager (Look at the before pictures on a Proactiv commercial, that was me.) but I got kind of numb to it so I still don't notice my skin much. Years ago, I'd have to concentrate on what I saw in the mirror before going to the dermatologists to decide if it looked "better, worse, or about the same as the previous three months" (the doc asked that every time). I usually could not have given a accurate answer; I always said 'about the same.' This morning I really looked at my face for a minute because it was a little dry/tight and it made me think about it. But most days I just see 'my face' and don't see the details. When I put on make-up or pluck eyebrows, I'm only concentrating on a small part at a time so small flaws stand out or I just discount the good. I know other people often can't see the scar in my left eyebrow but it jumps out at me (line of no hair, not really a flaw just an oddity.)

I guess this is why it is good to see a picture of yourself every once in a while. Because most of us don't see ourselves as other do, at least figuratively and some of us literally.

P.S. I'm still pale.

Weekend Roundup

Warning: Long and rambling post follows.

Saturday:

On "Splendid Table" one of the callers asked about how to spice up meatloaf. This discussion started me thinking about 2 things. One - where could I get meatloaf for dinner? Two - Dad's forays into meatloaf.

Dad will get on kicks and cook the same thing over and over for weeks. Try pork chops 3 times a week for a month or rice pudding. Sometimes good, sometimes not so much. Years ago he decided to make meatloaf (I think it was the first one either of my parents had made my entire life.) and he kept making it for about 6 months. Luckily we didn't have it multiple times a week. He never made the exact same recipe twice; he kept trying new ones. Well, one time he ran out of bread crumbs and he had some leftover popcorn from lunch, so he substituted popcorn for about half the breadcrumbs. Then he thought mozzarella cheese would be good in the meatloaf. But he didn't shred it, he used the string cheese in the fridge. The resulting meatloaf, while tasting fine, was a little weird looking. It was medium grey and the slices had lighter spots where the cheese slices were. One of my brothers, his wife, and kids were staying with us at the time. The kids didn't even try it; they went straight for the peanut butter and jelly.

After "Splendid Table", APR airs "Travel with Rick Steves". One of his callers talked about how wonderful it was to travel with his son. His family had been to Europe 14 times with his now 19 year-old son and it had been great for his education and broadened his horizons, etc. This made me think of a funny story from an uncle and aunt of mine.

My Uncle Danny was a french teacher and they went to France several times while my cousins were growing up. One summer they went to southern France, including the beaches. If you've never been to Europe you may not know that going topless on the beaches is pretty common and women don't necessarily cover up before leaving the beach. (Similar to going to the Walmart in Panama City Beach and there being girls shopping in a bathing suit and towel, only less.) My cousins were a pre-teen and teenagers on this trip. Just the perfect age to see topless woman walking nonchalantly down the street. Their jaws hit the ground when the first lady walked by. Aunt Judy just looked at her boys and said "You say one word and I'm doing it." The threat of seeing their mother topless was enough to keep Jonathon and Robbie in line.

Saturday afternoon Ellen and I took Honey and Izzy to the park. Izzy was tuckered out from the mile long walk. We would've eaten at Roly Poly's but they were closed, "gone to the game." So we sat at Ken's next door. The next restaurant over (New Orleans Bar and Grill) was, apparently, the place for all the LSU students without tickets to hang out, in the outside seating. They had been drinking since at least kick-off and when we got there, towards the end of the 2nd quarter, several were getting loud. And the first half didn't go their way. Note: The f-bomb really loses its punch when it is every other word out of your mouth.

Sunday:

If you want service go to the Centerville McDonald's. They had more people working at late lunchtime, at a small store than the Micky D's in Taylorville ever has. Didn't make them terribly fast with the iced coffee, because they were out of cups, but they gave Mom two apple pies for making us wait. After picking up Nettie, we went riding. Patches was a bit of a snot. He settled down for me, but kept giving Nettie trouble. She did an awesome job handling him. She made him back-up by accident a couple of time, but did really well. I think part of the problem was she has to use these extra stirrups (which were a little short for her) and the regular stirrups were bouncing a bit on him so Patches was getting some mixed signals.

(My hair looks weird and, God, I look fat. Don't know why Nettie looks so serious.)

Then I had to come home and scrub out the dryer so I wouldn't get candy or gum or whatever that purple stuff was on my clothes.


Oh, the puppies eyes are open (They are two weeks old.) and Ellen started a new job Friday.