Stuff

It seems like I have spent 99% of my life worrying about stuff. Either I didn't have any stuff or the stuff I already had needed to be cleaned or packed or put away. I have gotten jobs solely to buy more stuff and then taken vacation days to sort, organize, repair or wash my stuff. I have even bought stuff to organize my stuff. When my children lived at home with all their stuff and of course my husband had his share of stuff so our home was pretty much stuffed with stuff. I have been working very very hard the past few years on thinning out, giving away and handing down our stuff and I think I'm making real progress. I was feeling very good about this progress until I realized that I spent the first half of my life in a giant quest devoted to "getting" stuff and am spending the second half of my life "getting rid" of the stuff that I just had to have. I know there is a message in here someplace and I sincerely hope ya all can find it in the midst of all this stuff.

Fun Times

Rod (my starter husband) and his good buddy Jim loved old cars and in April of 1970 they bought a 1930 something Ford Coupe that was hardly more than a chassis. OH, it had an engine but most of the engine was in multiple greasy boxes that were sitting where a seat should have been so of course they towed their prize to our house and put it in the barn where they planned to restore it to it's former glory. After many many nights and weekends they finally had the engine back to "sorta" running and were dying to get this thing out on the road. There were lots of problems with that plan but one of the main issues was that the car did not yet have a usable gas tank. Soooo, these two geniuses filled a gallon jug with gasoline and ran a plastic tube from the jug to the engine. We lived way out in the country and they really had waited longer than I ever dreamed they would wait before they just HAD to try it our on our road. Jim won the coin toss and got to drive so that meant Rod was sitting in a folding lawn chair with a jug of gasoline in his lap. Now...when I say we lived in the country I mean COUNTRY. You had to drive on two gravel roads to even get to the dirt road where we lived. I can only imagine how surprised the boys were to see flashing blue lights come up behind them and they immediately pulled to the side of the road. The state trooper circled the car three times taking note of no license plate, no windshield, no doors, no windows and of course the folding lawn chairs. The state trooper shook his head, checked out the lawn chairs, gasoline jug, plastic tubing and said, "Boys...I don't have enough paper in this book to even begin covering every law you have broken. How about you take this thing back to the barn and we just pretend we never saw each other." Ah yes, the good ole days.

I wish I was Amish

I have discovered how the Amish have time to take care of all those children, milk the cows, home school, bake bread, plant ginormous gardens and make their own clothes. Their religion forbids photographs so they don't have to spend half their lives sorting pictures from 1890 through 2008! Heck, if I wasn't up to my elbows in negatives and a butt load of photographs of people with beehive hairdos and buck teeth I might find the time to bake a loaf of bread, stitch a Holly Hobby frock and maybe even a bonnet or two. I have decided that THIS IS THE YEAR that I am getting all of these old photos into albums. This is not the first time I have taken on this project but the other 28 dozen times I have gotten discouraged, shoved the photos back into HUGE BINS and collapsed in the recliner while cursing Mr. Kodak and slurping a margarita. I think I've been going about this project all wrong so this time I'm starting out with the margarita.

Happy Birthday Polly!

My baby girl is 38 years old. Oh wait, I forgot she decided to stick at 29 again this year. Of course that means instead of being one year older than her baby sister, Eddie, Polly is now eight years younger. Eddie is beginning to get a little ticked but we decided Polly Land must be a very happy place and we would LOVE to visit there someday. Polly weighed 10 pounds when she was born and had these darling little fat wrinkles on her wrists and thighs that had to be cleaned with a Q-tip. She was bald but had these six inch strands of hair beginning right at her ear lobe which made her resemble a blue eyed, blond Hasidic Jew. My mother was so excited that we had a little girl to play dress up and have tea parties with that she just couldn't help herself and bought a very frilly, rufflled (and probably itchy) dress for Polly to wear home from the hospital but unfortunately Mom bought the Newborn size. Well, Pol wore the dress but the top two buttons were not able to be buttoned and the sleeves were so tight her chubby little arms looked like sausages. Polly Ann completely stole my heart at 2:37 PM on April 15, 1970 and even though she has passed her fat wrinkles to me...she still has my heart.

The difference between boys and girls.

Oh don't get all panicky and nervous, I'm not talking about THOSE differences. Montana Granddaughter Sarah is in the 5th grade and her class has been studying European countries. On Friday each child brought a food item from a European country and costumes were optional but encouraged. Costumes? Did somebody mention costumes?? Heck yes Sarah wanted a costume! She choose Germany for her country and Polly found a square dancing skirt (I don't even want to know where), a crinoline, white tights and a puffy sleeved blouse that laced up the front with ribbon. Polly also had enough of the matching ribbon to braid into Sarah's hair and Sarah looked even more adorable than usual. Polly and Sarah spent DAYS getting ready for Friday and after much discussion Sarah finally decided she wanted to make a German pork loin with potatoes and sauerkraut. Thursday night Polly was on the way to the store to buy the pork loin and since her friend, Janelle, has a son in that same class Polly called to see if Janelle needed anything at the store. This is their phone conversation:

Janelle: Hello
Polly: Hey Janelle, I'm on my way to the store do you need for me to pickup anything for you?
Janelle: Uhhh....no but thanks for asking.
Polly: Oh OK, I'm on my way to get sauerkraut and a pork loin for Sarah to take to school tomorrow and thought you might need something.
Janelle: Pork loin??? Are you kidding me? For tomorrow? For European day?
Polly: Uhhhh....yes, why?
Janelle: Well...Conner came home from school today and said, "Mom I'm wearing shorts tomorrow and I need a package of swiss cheese.

We are guessing that Conner has chosen Switzerland for his country.

That my friends is the difference between boys and girls.

Ever give a cat a shot?

I'm not talking about Tequila and a lime wedge I'm talking about an injection. I figure if you are giving your cats shots of Tequila you aren't the type of person who would be even mildly interested in anything I have to say and probably stopped reading when you figured out I wasn't talking about liquor. The first time I gave Gingles her shot we did just fine as I had the element of surprise on my side. The second day, ummm.....not so much. She is feeling better and is more alert which means when she saw that syringe all hell broke loose. For a cat who was near death two days ago let me tell you what, that old girl can flat out move. I pulled her out from behind the couch, chased her down the hall and seriously considered throwing that syringe like a South American poison dart. Mission accomplished but I sure hope PETA wasn't watching.

Warm and gooey PB & J

Don't know what it is about PB & J but when the world around me is not behaving as I think it should a PB & J on toast can be a marvelous attitude adjuster. It can't be just ANY peanut butter...oh no, it has to be PETER PAN PEANUT BUTTER and it has to be smooth, not crunchy. I'm not as fussy about my jelly but my favorite is Dickinson's seedless black raspberry or sometimes the strawberry...don't want my J too sweet as it would outshine the PB and that will not do. Dickinson's has just the right combination of tart and sweet, perfect. Ever tried your PB & J on toast? Oooooh, if you haven't then get up right now and get out your toaster. The warm toast makes the peanut butter all gooey and yummy. Sooo, I'm sitting here eating my favorite PB & J sandwich when ole MortMan jumps up on my lap and shows mild interest in my sandwich. I'm bored, I need entertainment soooo....I put a dab of peanut butter on each of his front feet. Why didn't I do this months ago! OH MY GOSH...I could sell tickets! Morty with peanut butter on his feet is waaay more entertaining than Dancing With The Stars!

P.S. Hmmm, OK....very funny, very entertaining but I have to go now and figure out how to get peanut butter off of my new lamp shade, comforter and carpet. Yeah...brilliant idea, I simply MUST do that again real soon.