Picture This

This blog is getting desperate for some pictures. I have several I am wanting to share. But still no progress on the software download and excess picture transfer. Too bad, so sad.

So, here, direct from the STP's image file, is a pseudo-map of the Grand Canyon. (There are very limited choices in the STP's image files. Unless you are interested in power point backgrounds from recent sermons.) I am so tempted to just download my software to the STP's computer and start dumping my pictures onto it. (I have already started blogging from here, whenever he is not home.)

But I know he will find out and be less than happy with me if I do that. He is quite tolerant of my cluttering my own spaces. Much less when his spaces are involved. So I refrain. But I would like to get some credit for refraining.

Also, we are planning a trip to the Grand Canyon around Memorial Day. You should come. I plan to take a lot of pictures. But don't count on ever seeing them.

Smucker Up

Invited a couple to join us for supper last evening. They volunteered to bring something. The STP suggested rolls or bread. Because 'bringing the rolls' in our world is a minimal effort contribution. They showed up with a loaf of homemade white bread still warm from the oven. They left the leftovers. I went to bed early so I could get up and have homemade bread with butter and jelly for breakfast.
The Goob packs a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every day in his lunch. For ever we have used the store-brand or generic grape jelly. But last week the STP shopped and Smuckers was on sale. So he bought it. And even the Goob commented how much better it is than the usual jelly. I guess the commercial is right. With a name like Smuckers, it has to be good. Cause it was delicious. Took me back to breakfasts at Aunt Ag's kitchen counter.
I'm already planning to have salad and bread for lunch. Can you eat lunch at 10:00am? Or can I just be Hobbit-like and have second breakfast?

I'm So Bad

at cooking that I can even mess up a blog entry about it.

Call Me Jewel OR Is It Summer Yet?

Watched Julie & Julia last evening. So my name doesn't start with 'J'. I still have a lot in common with those ladies. I married a great guy. I moved somewhere where I don't quite fit in. I lack a real direction in my life. I love to eat. I have a blog. I'm known for my cooking.
No, really. Just last week I volunteered to take a meal to someone following surgery and they expressed surprise, if not delight. "Oh," they said, "We didn't think you cooked." A common misconception. I do not cook in the summer. And I do not cook well most other seasons. And that is pretty well known.
Talked to Amidala after supper the other night. Told her there was one piece of garlic bread left on the table. "Is it black?" she asked. Of course it was. Found out last month they sell garlic bread at the store in little heat and eat bags. Who knew?
Yesterday I worked 4 hours at the IBHCF and 4 hours at Dodge City Federal. When I was ready to leave the bank, I could not find my coat. After some inquiry, we decided I hadn't worn a coat. I was surprised, because it was about 20 degrees outside. When I went out to get in my car, I couldn't find my car. I forgot the STP came and got it to drive to visit at the hospital in the medium sized town about an hour from Dodge City. So I had to walk home, without a coat. (Okay, I live about two small town blocks from the bank.) It is scary what I will be like when I am really old. (Evidently the definition of 'really old' is about 20 years older than I am currently.) Decided there is one thing my children will not have to worry about when I am really old and suspiciously senile: What if I forget to turn the stove off. My plan is to retire somewhere where it is summer year round, and I will never even think to turn the stove on.
I did get a few ideas for celebrating Valentine's Day from Julie and Julia.

Not Invited

The STP went ice fishing with the guys on Saturday. I stayed home and did laundry. The STP asked the Goob if he wanted to go. The Goob is not a big fan of the outdoors. On single digit snowy days especially. Pretty sure he knew the answer before he asked. Pretty sure that's why he didn't ask me. I bought my fishing license good for all of 2010. I'm not sure I would have gone on such a cold and snowy day though. But he could have asked...
I made him clean his own fish and cut its head off before I fried it. (And I didn't carry his laundry downstairs.) I hope he learned his lesson.
The next time he asks me if I want to go fishing with the guys, I'll just say no. That'll really learn him.
What am I--a junior high girl?
I had a swap meet at my house on Saturday morning. The idea was to bring something you just wanted to get rid of and maybe someone else could use. On Sunday an older woman offered these excuses for why she didn't come. It was snowing. It was too early. Her husband was home. Maybe no one would like her stuff. Maybe no one would like her stuff??!??!! So she thought maybe her garbage wasn't good enough. So evidently it is possible to think and function like a junior high girl until you are at least 80 years old.
Next time I go ice fishing, I'll be a grown-up and I'll invite the STP to go along.
Do you want to go ice fishing with me?
Check YES_________ or NO__________

Things To Make

Music
Friends
Love
Time
Peace
A wish
Dinner
Amends
Jokes
Magic
Art
Believe

Julia Would Be Proud

I currently have in my oven a cake which has in it a pound of butter, 16 ounces of semisweet Ghiardelli's baking chocolate and eight large eggs. Oh, life is good.
On the negative side, my computer thinks it is August 28, 2004. I don't think this is good. If there is a big crash, I will have to type my thoughts on a typewriter and use carbon paper and snail mail to transmit them to you. I will never be Julia.

Julia Would Be Proud

I currently have in my oven a cake which has in it a pound of butter, 16 ounces of semisweet Ghiardelli's baking chocolate and eight large eggs. Oh, life is good.
On the negative side, my computer thinks it is August 28, 2004. I don't think this is good. If there is a big crash, I will have to type my thoughts on a typewriter and use carbon paper and snail mail to transmit them to you. I will never be Julia.

Zumba, Zumba. Here We Go Zumba. Come On.

Started a Zumba class at the Dodge City Rec Center. It is like an exercise video--only live. (And there is no couch to sit down on when you are tired.) There is a lot of hip swinging. And shoulder shimmying. Given my sense of rhythm, I have to watch the instructor very carefully. And concentrate very hard. So I think it is good for my brain function as well as my heart. Plus it takes a good deal of courage to shake and shimmy with other people in the room. Brains, Heart, Courage. I could end up in Emerald City getting a complete makeover before you know it.
Or just carried off by flying monkeys...

What Not To Underwear

From CNN: President Barack Obama in remarks on Thursday took ultimate responsibility for security failures that led to the botched bombing and ordered reforms aimed at thwarting future attacks.

This comment interests me. Having inherited the messy gene, I have struggled with organization since I moved out of my mother's house. I manage a pretty good front, but private areas suffer. I never quite get to cleaning out the closets. I loved when my car had an actual trunk. (I loved having an actual car.) And my underwear drawer is a sight no one should ever see. So I have arranged with my daughters, when they hear about my death, to go immediately to my underwear drawer, empty the entire contents in to a brown paper bag, and throw it away. Did I mention that the word immediately? There is nothing in there anyone else will ever use. Trust me.
I flew the day before the underwear bomber did. I wore slip on shoes to aid my passage through airport security. I flew back home before the new security measures were in place. I am glad for this. If the shoe bomber results in my going barefoot through security, what will be the result of the underwear bomber? Will there be airport security approved panties, like there are airport approved ziplock bags? Or will I have to strip down and put my panties in the little basket with my shoes? Will holes in my undergarments show up on a full body scanner?
It took us two days to travel each way. When I packed for the return trip I only had one pair of clean underwear. So I borrowed a pair of the STPs boxers for one day. I chose NOT to wear them the day we flew. Just in case.
Anyway, I am puzzled that the President is taking responsibility for all of this. Does this mean that he will be ultimately responsible for my underwear as well? Will he come with the brown paper bag when I am gone, or just legislate the way I fold and store my underwear? Will there be an additional tax if I borrow underwear?
Also, I'm thinking 'commando' may not be appropriate to say when you are passing through airport security. I'm just saying.